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brunchable · 4 months ago

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The Stakeout - Day 1 || Steve Rogers × Agent!FReader

Day Two Words: 4.1K Themes/Warnings: Unspoken feelings towards each other. Growing tension. Sexual Attraction. Eventual Smut. Being stuck with each other. Summary: You've been assigned to do a stakeout with Steve for 5 days. Your accommodation: a cramped room with one mattress and a table with two rickety chairs. A/N: This is the tone setter. Steve's POV will always be at the end, and it'll be in 1st person. I don't have a tag list so. . .let me know if you want to be kept updated.

Steve Rogers pushed open the door to the small, dimly lit apartment, scanning the room with a soldier's eye. The place was a far cry from what you’re both used to—a single, cramped room with barely enough space to move around.

You stepped in from behind him, your eyes taking in your temporary home. The first thing that greets you is the unmistakable scent of “eau de mildew” mixed with a hint of something burnt—probably dinner from three tenants ago. The wallpaper is peeling off in a way that makes you wonder if it’s trying to escape, revealing patches of cracked plaster that look like a map of an unknown, crumbling country.

The carpet is a masterpiece of stains, each one telling a story you’re pretty sure you don’t want to know. It’s so worn down that you can almost see the floorboards underneath, which might actually be an improvement.

The lighting is dim, with a single, flickering bulb that casts just enough light to make the shadows in the corners look even more menacing. In the middle of the room sits a mattress that looks like it was dragged out of a dumpster and lost the fight. It’s lumpy in all the wrong places, sagging in a way that suggests it has long given up on supporting anything heavier than a guilty conscience.

The only other furniture consists of two rickety chairs that look like they’re competing to see which one can collapse first. They wobble precariously even when they’re empty, as if they’re just waiting for the right moment to give up entirely.

The kitchen is a museum of outdated appliances, each one looking like it’s plotting against you. The stove has a layer of grease so thick it could probably survive a nuclear blast, and the sink faucet drips with the rhythm of a horror movie soundtrack.

You glance at the bathroom door, which is hanging slightly off its hinges, and decide that whatever’s in there can stay there. The mirror is so cloudy that it’s practically a portal to another dimension, and you’re pretty sure the toilet is older than Captain America.

The windows are streaked with grime, and one is patched with what looks like ancient duct tape. As you take it all in, you can’t help but think that the apartment is less a living space and more a haunted house that’s too tired to actually scare anyone.

“Cozy,” you muttered, trying to inject some humor into the situation. But even you couldn’t hide the discomfort in your voice, “If these walls could talk, they'd probably ask for a lawyer.”

Steve looked at the walls and instinctively covered his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to stifle the chuckle that slipped through—the urge to laugh bubbling up inside him.

The apartment was a disaster, a place so far beyond repair that it almost seemed comical in its neglect. And yet, it wasn’t the state of the place that got to him; it was you. He could already sense the sharp comment forming on your lips.

Steve had always known you for your back-handed comments—remarkably clever, often brutally honest, and always perfectly timed. You had a knack for finding just the right words to undercut a situation, leaving everyone around you—Tony Stark included—scrambling for a retort. And in moments like these, even in a rundown apartment that could make the bravest Avenger cringe, you managed to make Steve smile, reminding him just why you were the perfect partner.

“It’s not much, but it’s all we’ve got for the next five days.” Steve turned to you, his expression apologetic.

“I've had worse.” You shrugged, tossing your bag onto the table. “At least the cockroaches seem to have packed up and left.”

You had worked together countless times before, but this was different. The close quarters, the extended time alone—usually you have the luxury to be in different rooms.

“I can sleep on the floor. You take the mattress.” Steve said, his eyes drifted to the double-bed size mattress on the floor.

Your eyebrows shot up. “And have you waking up with a bad back on day one? No way. We can both fit.”

“I don’t mind the floor. Really.” Steve hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

“We’re both adults, Steve. It’s just sleeping. We’ll make it work.” You crossed your arms, giving him a determined look.

He finally relented with a sigh. “Alright, if you say so.”

You spent the next few minutes in silence, each of you slipping into the familiar rhythm of setting up, though the state of the apartment made even the simplest tasks a challenge. The floorboards groaned underfoot with every step, and you had to be careful where you placed your equipment, wary of the spots that felt like they might give way entirely. The walls, pocked with holes and uneven surfaces, made it nearly impossible to secure the cameras properly; more than once, you found yourself muttering under your breath as the adhesive strips refused to stick, sliding down the peeling wallpaper as if in protest.

“Stick, you stupid tape!” you grumbled, pressing the strip back against the wall with more force than necessary, only to watch it slowly peel away once more. The tape seemed to be mocking you at this point, and your frustration was reaching a peak. But at the end, you made it work, as long as the equipment is working—you tell yourself.

The stakeout had reached that inevitable point where the monotony had set in. Hours of staring at surveillance footage had taken its toll, and both you and Steve were in desperate need of a break.

"Alright," you declared, tossing the deck of Uno cards between you. "We need something to keep me from going crazy."

Steve raised an eyebrow, looking at the cards with a mix of skepticism and amusement. "Uno? Seriously?"

"Come on," you teased, sitting cross-legged on the floor and motioning for him to join you. "It’s a classic. Plus, I promise not to go easy on you."

"I’d be disappointed if you did." Steve chuckled as he took a seat across from you, leaning in just slightly as he settled down.

"Good. I wouldn’t want to let you down.” You grinned, shuffling the deck with practiced ease.

The game started off lighthearted enough, with both of you trading cards and quips in equal measure. But as the game progressed, you couldn’t help but notice Steve’s hand growing increasingly full of cards, while yours remained relatively manageable.

"Got something against me, Y/N?" Steve asked, his tone playful as he drew yet another card from the deck. His hand was practically bursting with a rainbow of colors, and you couldn’t hide your grin.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you replied innocently, sliding another card onto the pile—a +4. "Just playing the game. Fair and square."

"Another +4? You sure this isn’t personal?" Steve stared at the card, then at you, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice, your smile turning teasing. "What if it is, Rogers? Think you can handle me?"

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. "I can handle a lot of things, but you might be more than I bargained for."

You laughed softly, enjoying the banter. "I’ve been told I’m a handful."

"That’s one way to put it," he muttered, drawing four more cards with an exaggerated sigh. His amount of cards was now so large that he had to hold it in both hands, and you could see the struggle on his face as he tried to keep his composure.

The next round, you drew yet another +4 card, and Steve’s eyes widened in disbelief as you placed it down with a flourish.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," he said, shaking his head, "Are you sure you’re not stacking the deck?"

"I would never," you replied, feigning shock. "It’s just pure luck."

"Pure luck, huh?" Steve shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "If this keeps up, I’m going to need another hand just to hold all these."

You leaned back, giving him a playful look. "You know, Steve, if it’s getting too much for you, you could always forfeit. I wouldn’t judge you. Much."

He met your gaze, a glint of challenge in his eyes. "Oh, I’m not giving up that easily. But if I win, I expect some proper appreciation."

"Appreciation?" you echoed, amused. "What do you have in mind?"

He shrugged, trying to keep a straight face. "Maybe something that shows you really understand what it’s like to lose to me."

You tilted your head, your smile turning sly. "Careful what you wish for, old man. I might just surprise you."

By the time you dropped yet another +4 card, Steve threw his hands up in defeat. "That’s it! I’m calling it—this game is rigged!"

You were laughing so hard that you could barely speak. "It’s not rigged! You’re just—oh man, I can’t even—"

Steve couldn’t help but start laughing too, the ridiculousness of the situation finally breaking through his usual stoic demeanor.

"I can’t believe I’m losing this badly at Uno," he said, shaking his head with a grin. "To you, of all people."

You leaned back, still chuckling. "Hey, I’m just that good."

He gave you a playful glare, but there was no hiding the smile on his face. "Remind me never to play cards with you again."

"Afraid of losing?" you teased, leaning a bit closer, your voice dipping into something softer, more suggestive.

"Afraid of getting a hand full of +4s," he corrected, still grinning. "You’re ruthless."

You shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eye. "All’s fair in Uno and war, Rogers."

He shook his head, still laughing, as he began gathering up the cards. That’s when he noticed something odd—a few extra +4 cards peeking out from under where you were sitting. His eyes narrowed, as he zeroed in on the cards.

"Wait a minute," Steve said, his voice laced with suspicion as he pointed to the cards. "What’s that?"

Your heart skipped a beat as you quickly tried to shift, but Steve was faster, leaning forward and grabbing the edge of one of the cards sticking out from beneath you. You immediately tried to cover it up, sitting down harder to keep him from seeing the whole stack of +4s you had hidden.

"Nothing!" you blurted out, trying not to laugh as you squirmed to keep the cards hidden. But Steve’s grin only widened as he tugged on the card, the two of you now playfully wrestling over it.

"Nothing, huh?" he teased, managing to pull one of the cards free. "You’ve been cheating this whole time!"

You burst out laughing, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably. "I couldn’t resist! You should’ve seen your face every time I drew a +4!"

Steve wasn’t giving up, though. He leaned in closer, trying to snatch the remaining cards from you. "I knew it! I knew there was no way you could’ve drawn that many +4s!"

Still laughing, you tried to twist away, but Steve was persistent, his hands now playfully wrestling with yours as he tried to pry the cards from your grasp.

"Alright, alright!" you finally gasped, surrendering the cards as you fell back into a fit of giggles.

Steve held up the extra +4 cards triumphantly, shaking his head with a mix of disbelief and amusement. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

You wiped tears from your eyes, still giggling. "I’m sorry, but it was just too easy. I didn’t think you’d actually fall for it!"

"I’ll get you back for this, you know."

You flashed him a teasing smile. "I’m counting on it, Rogers."

“Yeah, yeah—let's get back to work.”

× × × ×

As night fell, you settled into your positions by the small window that overlooked the building you both were surveilling. Steve had the binoculars up, his posture rigid and focused. You sat beside him, close enough to see the reflection of his serious expression in the glass.

The target this time was Elias Novak, a crime boss who had been operating under the radar for years. He wasn’t just any criminal—Novak was careful, methodical, and always seemed to be two steps ahead of the authorities. But the intel they’d received suggested that Novak was planning something big, something that could have far-reaching consequences if they didn’t act quickly.

For weeks now, whispers had been circulating about a major arms deal in the works, with Novak at the center of it. The specifics were still murky—where the weapons were coming from, who they were being sold to—but one thing was clear: if the deal went through, it could unleash chaos. Weapons of that scale and sophistication in the wrong hands could destabilize regions, spark conflicts, or worse.

“Anything?” you asked quietly, not wanting to break his concentration.

“Not yet,” he replied, his voice a low rumble.

You leaned forward slightly, trying to get a better view yourself. Without thinking, you placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder to balance yourself as you leaned in. The sudden contact made Steve freeze for a moment, but he didn’t move, his focus still on the building across the street.

You didn’t notice the slight tension in his body as you peered through the binoculars. The movement brought you even closer, your shoulder brushing against his arm.

“Let me see,” you murmured, your breath brushing against Steve’s ear as you took the binoculars from him.

You adjusted the focus, squinting into the lens. “Hm, odd,” you said, your tone slightly disappointed.

You handed the binoculars back to him, but instead of moving away, you stayed where you were, still leaning against him slightly. Steve took the binoculars, his fingers brushing your for a brief moment, sending a spark of electricity through you.

You stayed like that for a few minutes, pretending to be absorbed in the task at hand. Finally, you realized how close you were and pulled back, clearing your throat awkwardly.

“Sorry,” you said, your cheeks slightly flushed. “Didn’t mean to crowd you.”

Steve shook his head quickly. “No, it’s fine. We’ve got to stay close to keep an eye on things.”

You nodded, but the moment of closeness had left you slightly off-balance. You resumed your watch, but both of you were acutely aware of the other’s presence.

Eventually, you decided to call it a night. You changed into your sleepwear first, turning your back to Steve for some semblance of privacy in the open room. When you turned around, you found him already settled on one side of the mattress, his broad frame taking up more space than he probably intended.

You slid in beside him, the mattress dipping under your weight. The proximity was inevitable, and you both tried to ignore it, lying stiffly side by side, your shoulders almost touching.

“Goodnight,” you said softly, staring up at the ceiling, trying to make yourself relax.

“Goodnight,” Steve replied, his voice equally tense. Minutes ticked by, and neither of you could sleep.

Finally, you sighed, breaking the quiet. “This is going to be a long five days, isn’t it?”

Steve chuckled softly, a low, warm sound that made your chest tighten. “Yeah, it might be.”

You smiled, turning your head slightly to look at him. In the dim light, you could see the outline of his face, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, just like yours had been moments before.

“We’ll get through it,” you said, more to yourself than to him.

Steve turned his head to meet your gaze, his expression softening. “Always do.”

There’s a pause, and you decide to lighten the mood a little more. You grin mischievously, knowing it’s a little ridiculous but hoping it’ll ease the tension.

“Just watch out for bed bugs, Rogers. I’ve heard they love big, strong super soldiers.”

He laughs, and it’s a genuine sound that makes your own smile widen. “Good to know. Guess I’ll have to keep the shield close, then.”

“Might want to sleep with one eye open,” you tease.

“I think I can manage that,” he says, his voice lighter now, more relaxed. You can tell that your little joke did its job, easing some of the tension between you. It’s a small victory, but it feels good.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, a smile still tugging at his lips.

“Goodnight, Steve,” you replied, and you can hear the warmth in his voice this time.

As sleep finally began to take hold, your last conscious thought was of Steve beside you—so close, yet still feeling so far away.

The mission had barely begun, but the real challenge, you realized, would be surviving the next five days without giving away the feelings you had tried so hard to keep hidden.

STEVE’S POV

The room is silent, except for the faint hum of traffic outside and the occasional creak of the old wooden floor. I keep my eyes fixed on the building across the street, trying to ignore the cramped space around me. We’ve been here for hours now, watching, waiting, but so far, nothing’s happened. Just another quiet night in the city.

I lift the binoculars again, scanning the windows across the way. Everything looks normal—too normal. The target hasn’t made a move yet, but I know better than to let my guard down. That’s when things go wrong.

Beside me, Y/N is sitting quietly, her presence a constant distraction. I’ve been trying to focus on the mission, but it’s hard when she’s this close. It’s not that I don’t trust her—hell, I trust her with my life—but there’s something about being alone with her, in this small space, that’s got my nerves on edge.

“Anything?” she asks, her voice soft, not wanting to disturb my concentration. I can hear the hint of curiosity, maybe even concern, in her tone. She’s as invested in this as I am, which only makes this harder.

“Not yet,” I reply, keeping my voice low. The tension between us is thick—to me at least, and I’m not sure how much longer I can pretend it’s just the stress of the mission.

All of a sudden, she leans in closer, placing a hand on my shoulder to steady herself as she peers over at the building. The contact is so casual, so innocent, but it sends chills through me. My muscles tense, and I have to remind myself to keep still, to act like this is nothing.

She’s close enough that I can feel the warmth of her body, smell the faint scent of her shampoo. Her shoulder brushes against my arm as she takes the binoculars from me, and I swear, my heart skips a beat. I’m a soldier, trained to handle high-pressure situations, but this—being this close to her—is more than I bargained for.

“Let me see,” she murmurs, her breath brushing against my ear as she adjusts the focus. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickens. I’m supposed to be watching the target, not getting distracted by the woman beside me.

She spends a few moments peering through the binoculars, her face so close to mine that I can feel the heat radiating from her skin. My mind races, trying to think of anything but how it would feel to close that small distance between us. How it would feel to—

Stop it, Rogers. Focus.

She finally pulls back, handing the binoculars back to me. “hmm, odd,” she says, disappointment lacing her voice.

I nod, taking the binoculars from her, our fingers brushing for just a moment. It’s like a spark of electricity, and I have to force myself to keep my expression neutral. I can’t let her see what she’s doing to me.

She doesn’t move away, though. Instead, she stays close, leaning against me slightly as we continue to watch the building. Every second feels like an eternity. The heat of her body, the soft sound of her breathing—it’s all too much, but I can’t bring myself to step away. I’m not sure if I want to.

Minutes pass, and the tension between us only grows thicker. I’m hyper-aware of every inch of space between us—or the lack of it. My mind keeps drifting, imagining what it would be like if I just turned my head a little, if I just—

She pulls back suddenly, clearing her throat. “Sorry,” she says, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Didn’t mean to crowd you.”

I shake my head quickly, trying to sound like everything’s fine. “No, it’s fine. We’ve got to stay close to keep an eye on things.”

She nods, but the awkwardness lingers. I can feel it in the air. We resume our watch, but it’s like there’s a wall between us now, a wall built by unspoken words and feelings I’m not ready to admit.

Finally, after what feels like hours, we decide to call it a night. Y/N changes into her sleepwear first, giving me a bit of space. I keep my back turned, focusing on the mission, the window, anything but her. But no matter how hard I try, my mind keeps drifting, slipping into dangerous territory.

I hear the soft rustle of fabric as she pulls off her shirt, and my imagination runs wild before I can stop it. Images flash through my mind—her skin, smooth and soft under the dim light, the way her hair might fall over her shoulders as she changes, the subtle curve of her waist as she slips into something more comfortable.

Damn it, Steve. Stop.

I clench my fists, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. This isn’t the time for those kinds of thoughts. She trusts me, and I owe it to her—and to myself—to stay professional. But it’s hard, harder than I ever thought it would be, and the guilt gnaws at me.

I’m supposed to be better than this. Stronger. I’ve faced down enemies that would make most men run in fear, but here I am, struggling to keep my mind from wandering to places it shouldn’t.

The sound of her footsteps breaks through the haze of my thoughts, and I snap back to reality. I settle onto one side of the mattress, trying to take up as little space as possible. But when she slides in beside me, the mattress dips, and suddenly, she’s right there, close enough that I can feel the warmth of her body through the thin sheets.

I stare up at the ceiling, every muscle in my body tense. This is going to be impossible.

“Goodnight,” she says softly, her voice breaking the heavy silence.

“Goodnight,” I reply, my voice tighter than I intended.

I can hear her breathing beside me, steady and soft, and I know she’s not asleep either. The tension between us is unbearable, a constant reminder of everything I’m trying to ignore, everything I can’t afford to feel right now.

She sighs, and I hear the frustration in her voice. “This is going to be a long five days, isn’t it?”

I can’t help but chuckle, a low, warm sound that surprises even me. “Yeah, it might be.”

She turns her head to look at me, and I do the same. In the dim light, I can see her eyes, the soft curve of her lips as she smiles. It’s a small moment of comfort, a brief reprieve from the tension that’s been building between us.

“We’ll get through it,” she says, and I can hear the determination in her voice.

I nod, “Always do.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then she adds with a mischievous grin, “Just watch out for bed bugs, Rogers. I’ve heard they love big, strong super soldiers.”

I can’t help but laugh, the tension easing just a bit. “Good to know. Guess I’ll have to keep the shield close, then.”

She chuckles softly, and it’s that laugh—the one that always catches me off guard. It’s light, pure, and it cuts through all the heaviness like a breath of fresh air. I could listen to that sound for hours, and never get tired of it.

“Might want to sleep with one eye open.” she adds, still teasing.

“I think I can manage that,” I reply, still smiling.

Her laughter fades into a comfortable silence, and for a moment, the weight of everything feels a little lighter. It’s a small joke, a silly one, but it’s enough to make the space between us feel less heavy, more manageable.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” I say again, this time with a little more warmth.

“Goodnight, Steve,” she replies, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

We both settle back, and though the tension isn’t completely gone, it feels like we’ve taken a small step toward something better. Maybe these five days won’t be as long as it seems.

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ohhappyday123 · 6 months ago

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The Office - Communication Breakdown

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - DAY

The usual hustle and bustle of the office fills the air as employees go about their work. The camera pans across the bullpen, capturing snippets of conversations and the clatter of keyboards.

Y/N'S DESK

Y/N is seated at her desk, working on some paperwork. Dwight approaches with a stern look on his face.

Dwight: [seriously] Y/N, I need you to tell Jim something for me.

Y/N: [looking up, amused] Sure, Dwight. What's up?

Dwight: [glancing around to make sure Jim isn't nearby] Tell him that his prank was amateur at best and that he will never best me in a battle of wits.

[Y/N chuckles and nods, turning to find Jim.]

Jim's Desk

[Jim is leaning back in his chair, fiddling with a paperclip. Y/N walks over and delivers Dwight's message.]

Y/N: [smiling] Jim, Dwight wants you to know that your prank was amateur at best and that you'll never best him in a battle of wits.

Jim: [grinning] Oh, really? Well, tell Dwight that his sense of humor is as outdated as his haircut.

[She laughs and walks back to Dwight.]

Dwight's Desk

[Dwight is busy organizing his desk meticulously. Y/N approaches and delivers Jim's message.]

Y/N: [trying not to laugh] Jim says your sense of humor is as outdated as your haircut.

Dwight: [fuming] Tell him that I’m shunning him for the rest of the week, effective immediately.

Y/N: [sighing] Dwight, don't you think this is a bit much?

Dwight: [seriously] No. This is a necessary measure.

[Y/N returns to Jim's desk to relay the latest message.]

Jim: [smiling] Ah, shunning. Classic Dwight.

Interview - Dwight

Dwight: [looking serious] Shunning is an ancient Amish tradition. It's a way to show someone that their behavior is unacceptable. Jim needs to learn that pranks have consequences.

Interview - Jim

Jim: [grinning] Dwight shuns me about twice a month. It's kind of our thing. It's annoying, but also, it makes him easier to mess with.

Interview - Y/N

Y/N: [laughing] Being the middleman between Jim and Dwight is like being a referee in a game where only one person knows they're playing. It's exhausting, but it's also kind of hilarious.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - LATER

BREAK ROOM

[Y/N, Pam, and Jim are having lunch together. Dwight enters the room, looking determined.]

Pam: [whispering to Y/N] What's going on with Dwight today?

Y/N: [whispering back] He's shunning Jim. Again.

[Dwight clears his throat loudly, getting everyone's attention.]

Dwight: Y/N, tell Jim that he needs to stop leaving his dirty dishes in the sink.

Y/N: [sighing] Dwight, he's right here. You can tell him yourself.

Dwight: [stubbornly] No. I will not acknowledge his existence.

Jim: [smiling] Well, Y/N, tell Dwight that I will stop leaving my dishes in the sink when he stops labeling all his food in the fridge. No one wants his beet salad.

Y/N: [laughing] Okay, okay. How about we all just clean up after ourselves?

Pam: [amused] Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.

Dwight: [grudgingly] Fine.

Interview - Pam

Pam: [smiling] Watching Dwight shun Jim is like watching a soap opera. You can't help but get invested in the drama.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - AFTERNOON

BULLPEN

Y/N is at her desk when Michael approaches, looking confused.

Michael: Y/N, why is Dwight shunning Jim again?

Y/N: [smiling] Jim pranked him, and now Dwight's using his Amish shunning technique to teach him a lesson.

Michael: [nodding thoughtfully] Ah, classic Dwight. Well, keep up the good work. You're doing great as the office mediator.

Interview - Michael

Michael: [confidently] Y/N is like the glue that holds this office together. Without them, we'd be in chaos. More chaos than usual, I mean.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - LATER

CONFERENCE ROOM

Everyone is gathered for a meeting. Dwight and Jim are sitting on opposite sides of the table, with the reader between them.

Michael: [excitedly] Okay, team! Today we're going to brainstorm some new ideas for our sales strategy. Y/N, why don't you start us off?

Y/N: [clearing their throat] Sure. I was thinking we could focus on improving our customer service by...

[The camera cuts to Dwight, who leans over to Y/N and whispers something in her ear.]

Dwight: [whispering] Tell Jim that his idea for the new sales strategy is idiotic and will never work.

[Y/N rolls her eyes but obliges, whispering Dwight's message to Jim.]

Jim: [whispering back] Tell Dwight that his idea for the new sales strategy is so outdated that it belongs in a museum.

Y/N: [exasperated] Guys, can we focus on the meeting?

Interview - Dwight

Dwight: [seriously] Communicating through Y/N is actually quite efficient. It ensures that Jim understands the severity of his actions.

Interview - Jim

Jim: [laughing] It’s like we’re in middle school. Dwight thinks he’s making a point, but really, it just gives me more opportunities to mess with him.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - AFTERNOON

BULLPEN

As the day continues, the shunning persists. Y/N is caught in the middle of increasingly absurd messages between Jim and Dwight.

Dwight: [smirking] Tell Jim that he should be prepared for a battle of wits tomorrow. I won't go easy on him.

Y/N: [sighing] Dwight, maybe you should just talk to him directly?

Dwight: [firmly] No. This is how it must be.

Jim: [grinning] Tell Dwight that I look forward to it. And that he should bring his A-game.

Y/N shakes her head, amused by the ongoing feud. As she turn back to het work, they catch a glimpse of Stanley watching the whole exchange with a bemused expression.

Interview - Stanley

Stanley: [chuckling] I stay out of their nonsense. But it’s always entertaining to watch. Y/N does a good job keeping the peace.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON

Y/N'S DESK

Y/N is working when Jim walks over, looking slightly sheepish.

Jim: [softly] Hey, sorry for dragging you into all this. I know it’s a lot.

Y/N: [smiling] It's okay. It keeps things interesting.

Jim: [smiling back] How about we get dinner tonight? My treat.

Y/N: [grinning] Sounds like a plan.

[As Jim walks away, Y/N catches Dwight watching them intently.]

Dwight: [seriously] Y/N, remember to relay my message about the battle of wits.

Y/N: [laughing] I will, Dwight. I will.

Interview - Y/N

Y/N: [laughing] It's exhausting, but I wouldn't have it any other way. This place is like a second home, and these people are like family. A very dysfunctional family.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - END OF DAY

As the day winds down, employees start packing up their things. Jim and Y/N walk out together, exchanging smiles and quiet conversation.

Pam: [smiling as she watches them leave] Those two are perfect for each other.

Michael: [beaming] Y/N and Jim make a great team. They're like the Romeo and Juliet of the office. But, you know, without the tragic ending.

[The camera captures Dwight watching Jim and Y/N with a mix of suspicion and grudging respect.]

Interview - Dwight

Dwight: [seriously] As much as it pains me to admit, Jim and Y/N are a formidable team. But that doesn't mean I won't crush him in our battle of wits.

Interview - Jim

Jim: [smiling] Dwight will never admit it, but he likes having Y/N around as much as the rest of us do. Even if he shows it in the weirdest way possible.

Interview - Y/N

Y/N: [smiling] At the end of the day, we’re all just trying to get through the workday with a little bit of fun. And if that means playing messenger between Jim and Dwight, so be it.

#jim halpert #jim halpert x reader #jim halpert x fem! reader #pam beesly #dwight schrute #the office #the office us #michael scott

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attibar · 27 days ago

Text

"Yup, that's me. You're probably wondering how I ended up surrounded by a bunch of criminals."

It all started when I first went after the Toppat Clan. We heard that their former leader still lived and we learned his location. It took too many attempts but I finally captured the infamous Terrence Suave. Only to realize that any information he had was long outdated. Now any criminal of sound mind would escape as soon as possible and never come back. Apparently Suave only got half of that memo. It's either him getting "captured" again by ignorant soldiers that want to help me, or him sneaking back on base to be a nuisance. Since Terrence burned his relationship with the clan we weren't too worried about him sending them information on us. At least he makes good conversation.

And then there's Henry Stickmin. Now in his defense I did essentially blackmail him to steal evidence from the Toppat Clan, but it was for the greater good I swear. As luck would have it Henry appeared to have no problem lending a hand in future missions despite his criminal status. Yes, he never quit stealing. I've needed to have stacks of pardons on standby. At least Charles has been able to somewhat keep him in line on base. Though I really want to know where Henry gets all his tools; they just pop into existence.

When Charles brought back Henry for stopping the launch of the Toppat's space station I hadn't expected him to bring along a woman named Ellie Rose. I choked on my drink when he explained that Ellie and him escaped that damned Wall Complex. I didn't even know Henry was in there. Where was I? Right, Ellie does steal like Henry and Terrence but seems more interested in mercenary, or criminal-for-hire work. I can actually hire her to do missions and not worry about her stealing everything not nailed down, it's great! Compared to the last two she's not so bad. At least she keeps everyone else in line. I think she has decked over half of the base at this point.

I thought it would have ended there. Three criminals hanging around. But no, life is never that easy. Some of the Toppats escaped custody and regrouped. With their space launch failed, their finances almost dry, and many of them still locked up I suppose they needed someone to blame. And blame they did. They exiled their own leader and second in command, Reginald Copperbottom and Right Hand Man. I don't know what black magic they used to escape justice, but it has a sense of humor. I was visiting Terrence at his home and found a sobbing Reginald with Right trying to console him. To be honest I'm shocked that Terrence even let them in considering their history.

Now here I am with three former Toppats, a merc-for-hire, and a kleptomaniac with strange powers. I'm going to need to print out so many more pardons.

#my art #the henry stickmin collection #general galeforce #ellie rose #henry stickmin #terrence suave #reginald copperbottom #right hand man

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ethansluvbot · 2 years ago

Note

my requests r so broken so idk if this will go through 😭 but if you write for jack champion (i think u do) maybe jack champion x reader where reader doesn’t like showing her face a lot (especially on camera) but jack still attempts to include her in livestreams and such? :) lik she’ll be off scream but he’s admiring her mid-stream— HWGDHWHD thanks gurlll

PRETTY BOY | JACK CHAMPION

warnings: nothing just fluff!!

an: WAIT THIS IS SO CUTE. i’m basing this off of the neighborhood “pretty boy” because i love that song.

you always felt pretty with jack, jack made you feel perfect. he was the one thing you needed to be happy. even though you struggle with insecurities he always would help you through them.

he would always make sure to include you. that was including his live streams that he would have often. you hated showing your face to thousands of people and even speaking to them freaked you out.

you couldn’t understand how jack did it? your social anxiety wouldn’t allow this to happen. jack was currently going live as you laid on his bed.

“y/n come over here,” he patted his lap for you to sit in. you thought about it for second before shaking your head. what if they wouldn’t like you? what if they would make fun of you?

he walked away from his phone kneeling down in front of you, “you’ll be fine, nothing that they say should have a effect on you. you’re so gorgeous and i doubt they would think any different. we can take it slow if you want?”

the corners of your mouth rise up. you were so grateful to date someone like him. someone so considerate, charming and hilarious.

“fine. i’m not showing my face though.” those were the only conditions jack had to follow so he would take it. taking your hand into his he say you next to his phone.

“my beautiful girlfriend y/n is here with me! i wish you guys could see how perfect she was,” you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks. it was weird being treated like this. treated like you actually mattered to him, which you did.

in past relationships you were treated like shit. so having someone that was always there for you was great. his hand sat on your thigh drawing shapes with his fingers.

you loved watching jack interact with his fans. he was great at it even though his sense of humor was outdated. you only hoped he would make a great dad one day.

you looked up to see jacks eyes fixated on you. maybe he was right just to show your face. it wasn’t going to be as bad as what you were thinking.

laying your head on his shoulder you waved to the camera. all he could think about was how special you were. you were the one girl that would stick out to him. the one that could make him smile everyday.

“i love you,” he mumbled out playing with your fingers.

“i love you too jack.”

#ethan landry #jack champion #avatar #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #jack champion x reader #scream 6 #scream 6 imagines

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lowkeyrobin · 10 months ago

Note

can i ask for qsmp reacting to new member reader who is russian??

yes of course!! I love this request sm, hopefully I got everyone you're looking for! sorry if these are a little ooc, I'm learning a lot and watching a lot about the qsmp still so hopefully this is good lol. kind of a mix of q! selves and cc! selves so 💀

QSMP ; meeting a russian creator

includes ; tubbo, quackity, cellbit, jaiden, roier, wilbur, foolish, slimecicle, tina, and nihachu

warnings ; language, probably ooc 💀💀

masterlist

TUBBO

"oh, hi! are you the new member???"

he's really nice, helps you build a house and stuff to get started and whatnot

you, him & sunny spend a lot of time together, especially because quackity gave you your own child too

sunny & your egg absolutely love each other, and perfectly balance one another out

tubbo teaches you all about his machines and factories and whatnot

welcomes you with open arms to the town of fobo

talks to you about the federation and whatnot, how they're basically the government and to just avoid them at all costs

even with a language barrier (if you don't speak English as well) you guys are so tight

always fucking around together somehow

he adds you into his lore as well

QUACKITY

welcomes you with kindness and open arms

introduces you to your own egg 😭🫶

he's got a lot of energy and is very chaotic, literally sprints around the whole smp showing you everything and catching you up into lore stuff

if he fucks up a first impression, he repeatedly tries to make it up and corrects himself and whatnot

doing dumb shit with him and richarlyson is a must

you guys become really good friends and make some great lore ideas together

if you speak a little/lot of English, you guys will just have chitter-chatter streams together and build a little tree house for the eggs

CELLBIT

"hello!!"

you teach him a little Russian and he teaches you a little French

even if you have a language barrier he's really nice to you

very selfless, if you need something, hes got you

if you get kidnapped, good lord is he holding a grudge

has a protective type of personality, makes sure to keep you and your egg safe if you two come across some federation funny business together

starts to learn Russian because he thinks it's a cool language

surprises you one day with a phrase in Russian and you're just like "???? hello cellbit?"

"was that a good pronunciation? I'm still learning"

puzzles >>>>

used to be a rlly good pvper so he teaches you some outdated tricks lol

JAIDEN

"Oh my God, hi!!"

teaches you all about how the smp works and tells you all about her adventures

also takes you on adventures with her when you stream together

through the language barrier, you still get along really well and enjoy each other's humor and company

building together >>>

such great inputs from each side

in lore, she's kind of just off to herself, and alone

she can't really trust other people whatsoever now

but when you come around, she's a bit more open but obviously wants to be left alone

teaches you all about her pets

she rubbed off her love for vocaloid on you

ROIER

welcomes you with a smile

teaches you all about lore and whatnot

mentions his and cellbits wedding at least 3 times

gives you a little referral to therapy

he's currently a rat in lore so uh

he kinda just uses you as a pedestal for now

"y/n, tell them that im the superior rat, please"

you repeat the phrase in russian to any other russian creators you joined the server with

becomes a co-parent to your egg

very level-headed, somehow always has a plan

"Oh, yeah, the federation kidnaps people, just stay away from them"

"Dude what"

everyday is his birthday

you play into the bit by singing happy birthday in russian and giving him some sort of food

WILBUR SOOT

very formal first impression

introduces you to tallulah

tallulah is kinda iffy about you and your egg at first but she warms up to you guys

if you're the building type, he'll do the dirty work to get you the stuff you need to make a house, or anything you wanna build

on top of learning french, dutch, and spanish, you get him invested in russian as well

in lore, he believes that most problems can be solved by love, and you just kinda go with it because he's nice enough and whatnot

teaches you some stuff about music

you guys do a lot of yap streams while grinding up some resources on the island to make some new locations and whatnot

"the pattern you're doing looks like upside down dicks"

"wh- wilbur, why would you say that?"

if you're still learning English, and it's kinda broken when you speak or you say something wrong, he kindly corrects you and teaches you correct pronunciations

becomes a co-parent to your egg as well

you teach the eggs the "scary fight like a badass" stuff and he's the "be nice, children" parent

FOOLISH GAMERS

you're immediately introduced to his laugh

kind of reckless, but pretty laid back

pretty playful as well, likes to joke around with you

he doesn't have a reason to not trust you yk

you're very overprotective of your egg and anxious that you'll let something bad happen, but if he becomes a co-parent, he releases your egg from the little plastic box you have them in when you aren't around

does the whole Batman bit with you on your first stream on the qsmp

holy shit the amount of laughter

he wants to leave a good impression on you, thinks you're really cool lol

you've mutually decided that he builds exteriors, you design interiors

SLIMECICLE

probably wasn't even aware new people were joining

"who the hell is that???"

like you're trying to let quackity teach you the basics and he's staring from a distance like he's gonna plot to kill you

tries to joke around and say hello in russian but ends up saying some random phrase that didn't make sense

"You just said your toes taste like cheese"

"Wait, what?"

makes you a bitch wife/husband asap

makes you curse people out in russian when he gets slightly offended

definition of the uwu cat boy and tall angry bully gay stereotype

in lore he's got some serious psychological problems but it's okay!! you can deal with it

quackity tells you about the whole gegg think and you sit there like "okay wtf"

TINA KITTEN

you guys just kinda run into each other one day and you ask her for help on something

something clicked man, yall are such an iconic duo

you guys build a whole mansion near the sea together for the eggs

in lore, she's pretty reserved and isolates herself, and you become one of the many tk worry about her and try and give her advice

secrets are safe with her 💳💥💥💥

you guys own a little farm together too

Em and your egg get along so well

she has a little proud mom moment

tetris competitions.

she likes to draw and she loves drawing you and your egg together it's so cute

NIKI NIHACHU

she's kind of shy but your personalities balance each other out

she's sworn to protect everyone, and you and your egg are quickly added to that list

baking with her>>

you work with her at empanadas bakery

she talks to you all about psychology and how it fascinates her and stuff

you learn a lot from her

lots of compliments whether it be builds or even outfits you're showing off to you're stream

she easily becomes a co-parent of your egg lol

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt preferences #mcyt x reader #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt oneshot #quackity x reader #nihachu x reader #tubbo x reader #qsmp #qsmp x reader #qsmp tubbo #qsmp cellbit #qsmp roier #qsmp jaiden #qsmp tina #qsmp niki

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tayraedoll · 2 months ago

Text

Drag Me to Hell

You purchase an old radio at an antique store that turns out to be haunted as fuck. Will you successfully banish the demon back to hell before he can take you with him? Just to be safe MDNI 18+ Only!

So I meant to write this as a one-shot but it quickly got away from me so now it is a full, multi-chapter fic. What can I say? I have lost all control of my life...

TW: Horror, Alastor is his own warning, blood, gore, swearing, crude and dark humor, hallucinations, reader is not an exorcist expert- don't try this at home, more tags to be added as the story progresses.

Part 2

"Do we really have to go in?", you whine to your best friend Kate, scrunching your nose in disgust at the literal shack with a rusty, old "Antiques" sign.

Kate giggles at your antics,"Oh come on; it'll be fun! Who knows what treasures we might find?" She grabs your arm and pulls you through the door behind her; the little bell atop the door chimes merrily to signal your entrance. You look around, as far as you were concerned there was junk piled high in every direction. Taking stock of the room you were in you notice old Coke bottles, cigar boxes, a china cabinet filled with those creepy ass 'Precious Moments' figurines, and a shit ton of clothes that were even too outdated for your grandmother to wear.

"You're counting literal trash as treasure now? That explains your dating history", you deadpan at your friend.

"Bitch I said we MIGHT find treasure! But you gotta dig through the dirt to reach it first", Kate rolls her eyes at you but smiles at your jab. Gentle bullying was just how you showed each other your love. She walks further into the store, perusing through all the trinkets on the shelves. You follow after her, trying your best to not make eye contact with those Precious Moments dolls whose eyes seemed to follow you as you pass by.

You enter an adjacent room, this one filled with tin cooking instruments in varying degrees of disrepair. A portly, older gentleman with greying hair sat behind a register with a large tabby cat on the table. The cat lets out a loud yowl at the pair of you but the man says nothing as he watches you carefully in case you try to steal anything. 'What in here is even worth stealing?' you think to yourself. You smile at him politely and quickly move onto the next room, this one filled with old toys...yikes.

"So how do you know when you find "treasure?", you ask, using your fingers to put air quotations around the word treasure. Kate picks up a particularly disturbing looking baby doll and wiggles it in front of your face.

"When you find something you just can't leave without!", she laughs as you flinch back, glaring at her- you had told her your hatred of dolls in good faith and here she was using that information against you. She places the demonic toy back on the shelf and you give it another glare for good measure- not today Annabelle.

The next area was only slightly less disturbing; it looked like a middle-aged housewife was allowed to decorate it with all the "Live, Laugh, Love" and "Wine a Little, Laugh A Lot" signs all around. "Jesus Fucking Christ does this place never end?! It didn't look this big from outside!", you exclaim in exasperation. Kate carded through a stack of pictures and paintings.

"Perhaps if you actually looked for something that strikes your fancy you'd have a better time", she absentmindedly replied. You sigh but raise your hands in surrender, she had a point there. You make your way to the back, knowing nothing in this basic Karen of a room was going to please you.

When you reach the next room your eyes light up,"A ha! Now this room is interesting!", you call back to Kate. It was a music-themed room full of old records, CD's, posters, and stereos. As a music major in college you felt your heart soar at the sight of all the little pieces of music history surrounding you. You immediately dig into the records, wondering if you could find something new for your collection that was in decent shape. Maybe it was old school of you, but nothing beat the crisp sound of a record; records made you feel like the music was surrounding you, like you could see and taste the notes making it a full-body sensory experience.

Kate joins you, letting out a curt laugh,"I should have guessed it would be a music room." Your frown slightly as you reach the end of the records without finding anything of note for your collection. You sigh heavily at the disappointment that fills your chest.

"Too bad this room turned out to be a du-", you trail off as you catch sight of it. On the top shelf at the far end of the room sat an ornate, antique radio. It was cathedral-shaped, made of a dark- almost black- wood, the face painted a bright crimson. The speakers resembled a throne and below the control panel were large, yellow slices that resembled flames...or a very creepy smile. You gently plucked the fragile-looking radio from the shelf; it was a lot sturdier than it looked, feeling pretty hefty in your hands. You turn it around in your hands, it appeared to be battery-powered like most radios were prior to the 1930's. You wondered if it would work today.

"Find something interesting?", Kate asked beside you. She made a face at the old radio, "No offense but that thing is creepy AF!"

"It is no creepier than that doll earlier!", you defend your unique find. "I think I'll purchase it", you state with finality and make your way back to the front. The old man speaks little more than just to tell you your total cost, the cat joining him as they stare at you distrustfully. 'Jeez, cranky old coot', you think.

Back at your home you tinker around with the radio, polishing it up a bit and adding some new batteries. Your home was small, just a 1-bedroom and bathroom place that you were renting on the outskirts of New Orleans. You decorated modestly, a bookshelf with your favorite novels and records took up an entire wall of your small living room. The TV was small and pushed into a corner, you really only used it for background noise most days. You had one small but comfortable couch that you mostly used to work on. You were a writer for OffBeat, New Orleans' local music magazine. It was a great gig that let you work from home, even if you weren't compensated the best being a new writer on the team. You spent most of your days writing about Jazz and The Blues, local concerts and events coming up, and interviewing rising artists.

You placed the radio up on top of your bookshelf, you'd try to get it to work tomorrow. As you were pushing it back onto the shelf you felt a sharp sting in your finger, "Ah! Fuck!", you exclaim as you quickly pull your finger back. You inspect it, finding a drop of blood leaking out of your skin; you must have accidentally cut yourself on one of the yellow ornamental parts. You raise your bleeding finger to your lips and gently suck the small wound to soothe it. Sparing one last glance up to the radio, you turn off the light and head to bed.

Completely missing how the smile of the radio that just bit into you started to eerily glow in the dark after you.

#hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #fem reader #alastor is in hell for a reason #alastor the radio demon #horror #demonic possession

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jokeringcutio · 11 months ago

Text

The Grabber x Female Reader “Just as Dangerous” (Explicit/Smut)

Fandoms: Black Phone | Pairing: The Grabber (Albert Shaw) x You (F identifying) Reader Rating: Explicit (see all warnings!)

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Consensual Rough play, Chocking/Belt-play, Daddy-kink, older man/younger woman, Reader is a brat, Reader is just as bad, reader wants it badly, Reader is in true control here, (probably more tags but you know what it is just pure filth and you’ve been warned) fucking the Grabber. For @likoplays

Just as Dangerous

The creaking of the heavy basement door signaled his approach and you quietly listened for his footsteps to come down the stairs.

There he was, finally. He’d left you here on your own for a good while. Too long, in your opinion.

The door closed behind him, his presence filling the space with an electric charge. The mask he wore was a grotesque caricature, its exaggerated frown setting a macabre tone for the encounter. His clothes were either to be called outdated or quirky, with flare pants and an unbuttoned jacket above it, revealing a smooth and nearly hairless chest.

You remained on the worn mattress, your coat underneath you for comfort and isolation, your arms resting on your knees as you stared ahead.

Your pulse was a steady drumbeat in your ears.

He came to a halt in front of you, content to just stare at you before he knelt to be at eye level with your seated form. The man then cocked his head inquisitively, left arm resting on his knee as he crouched in front of you.

"Well, sweetheart, it seems you’ve got something to tell me," his voice sounded muffled, but the urgency of his statement was unmistakable.

You met his gaze, or at least the dark eyeholes of the mask, and watched him in silence. How long would it take before he would snap, you wondered. Would he be easy to rile up?

But his gaze was unwavering and the silence between you stretched longer and longer. Seeing how he remained in front of you, unmoving, his gaze full of expectation and heavy upon you, made your skin crawl. He was resilient, you had to give him that.

"I wouldn’t know what," you responded, injecting a note of nonchalance into your words.

He chuckled—a sound devoid of humor. "Well, I don’t think you’re being honest with me.” A click of his tongue as he stretched his arms in front of him. You noticed the glinting of the silver rings on his fingers. No marriage bands, just ornaments.

“In fact,” his voice lowered a notch, “I don’t like girls who don’t tell the truth. They’re naughty.” You could hear the sharp intake of breath, how he started to struggle with it behind his mask, as if he was getting excited by all this. Did the idea of you being a bad girl get him going? It wouldn’t explain why he’d mostly captured boys till now though.

Oh yes, you knew about the missing children in this area. You had no doubt who you were dealing with.

The Grabber.

“And you don’t want to be a naughty girl,” the man in front of you murmured, “do you?”

His words could have been seductive, his voice low and carrying that dangerous edge that always got you going. Even now, you had to squeeze your legs together at the sound of him. But you knew the game he was playing, how he tried to lure you into a punishment.

You had to force back a chuckle when you saw how the devilish mask tilted to one side as he looked at you questioningly again. Like a puppy pleading for an answer. Yet, you knew it was all a game to him. He must be one of those manipulative men then, you thought. Luring you into a false sense of security, playing the good guy, making you doubt your own brain.

You knew the type and decided not to grace him with an answer, not knowing anything that wouldn’t instantly make you a brat in his eyes. Was it a good thing if you talked back? Or would it spell your doom? No matter how much you liked it when men got rough with you, you were keen to survive. You had your own agenda and no time to die.

If he was looking for a good girl he should look elsewhere. You just weren’t the good girl he was hoping you to be.

“Tell me something,” the man now hissed, his voice still obscured by the mask but low and deliciously dangerous. “How did it feel when you got rid of them?”

Oh.

Now that sparked something in your eyes, like fires that started to burn. It became increasingly hard to suppress your smile when he brought it like that, a simple statement nothing more.

“Delicious,” you purred.

The black coals of the mask started to shimmer, a reflection of the look in your own eyes. The Grabber repositioned himself in front of you.

“So you admit it was you,” a dangerous low growl while he rested his hand against the cold concrete floor, like a predator ready to strike its prey.

You feigned ignorance again, well aware of how you had dropped your guard. But you were smaller than him and you could do the cute look. Most men fell for that – if you played your cards right.

“Oh, don’t play innocent with me,” the Grabber instantly rasped when he saw the look you gave him and deduced what you were trying to do. “You’re no innocent lamb.”

A laugh escaped his throat, heartily and raw. It sent shivers of pleasure down your spine. Then he ran a hand over his head, feeling if the hair was all still strapped behind the bands of his mask. Shoulder-length hair, you noted. Either a dark color, or perhaps already starting to turn grey. It was hard to tell in the artificial yellow glow of the basement’s one little bulb.

But the veins on those hands betrayed age and strength. Strong hands with long, thick fingers. You could feel your juices flowing, moist collecting between your folds as an ache appeared between your legs. Gosh, you were feeling empty.

“I noticed a few familiar names in your contacts list. Made me curious,” he started, but you could hear the grin in his voice despite the mask hiding his expression. You cocked your head and listened to him, curious about how far he had gone and what he had found – but also hooked on the lowness of his voice. You felt a slight throb inside your core, your nipples growing hard against the fabric of the clothes you were wearing.

“Had to dive in a little deeper,” and the way he said it sparked dark fantasies in you. “Found some more. Some deleted conversations. Others only connected via profiles on sites. It made me think.”

"Did you browse my phone?" you asked, staring at him with what you hoped was as little emotion as possible. “That is incredibly rude.”

"Merely happened to find a few names that sounded familiar," he returned casually, as if discussing the weather rather than the contents of your personal communications.

"Can't say I'm sure what you're on about," you lied smoothly, your mind racing as you tried to gauge how much he knew. But you had an inkling. It didn’t take a genius after all.

"No?" He leaned forward slightly. "Let me show you."

To your surprise, the Grabber fished out his own phone from a back pocket. You had half expected him to either reveal your own confiscated cell phone, or to see some printed newspapers. But he was opening Google and had been looking things up. Your gaze flicked to the screen before you could stop it, just to check, but there were no bars. The signal was dead down here, just like everything else that crossed the threshold into this forsaken basement.

"Look," he said, swiping through the device with a careful finger. The soft glow illuminated his mask, casting shadows that danced across the frown etched into its surface. The headlines he showed you were no surprise – men found dead. Murdered. Each face that scrolled past was a victory, a wrong righted by your hands. But seeing them there, in his possession, felt like a noose tightening around your own neck.

Not that you minded a little choking. Made things more thrilling.

He stopped on an article, the face of the last man you had seen alive staring back at you from the screen. "Not willing to admit it yet?" His voice was low, the words slithering through the cold air between you.

"Admit what?" Your heart hammered, but your voice was steady, cold. "So that you might turn me in? Go ahead. Who's going to believe the Grabber?"

His laugh was a low rumble, circling you like a predator. "Why would I go the cops? I am not gonna risk that, love," he said, his voice a taunt, his eyes behind the eyeholes were fixed on you. “Won’t risk you telling on me.”

"Me?" You tilted your head, feigning confusion, even as your mind spun furiously. "Why would I do something so foolish?"

“It doesn’t matter,” the Grabber said, shrugging as he made himself once again comfortable in front of you. You couldn’t help but notice how behind the mask, his eyes kept drifting toward your bound hands. And your cleavage.

"You thought you’d get out of this alive, darling?”

"Hope dies last," you quipped, your tone laced with venom you didn't feel. "But I suppose you wouldn't know much about that, would you?"

His hand moved faster than your eyes could follow, striking your cheek with a force that whipped your head to the side. The sting of the ring on his finger made the hit all the more special. Pain radiated like spider webs across your face, but it was the moan that slipped from between your lips that seemed to freeze the moment, hanging thick in the stale air.

"Fuck, you're a twisted little cunt if you loved that," he hissed. His voice had somewhat changed, became rougher, coarser, and took on a sinister tone. As if a devil was unleashed within him.

He stood in front of you now, panting rapidly. You could see the rise and fall of his naked chest. The way his belly moved, how you longed for him to strike you again.

"Maybe I am," you taunted, even as the ache bloomed into something darker, something forbidden. “Maybe I am so fucked up, I need a good fucking to set me right.”

For a moment it looked like he was going to hit you again, raising his hand in the air until the light reflected on his ring causing a shimmer. You mentally prepared, got excited about it even, sat up a little straighter. But then he reached for you and you felt his fingers grasp your chin tight, holding it in his hands, squeezing your lips together as he chuckled down at you.

“You want it badly, don’t you?” His voice was dripping with sin, his thumb gently brushing past your lips, fingertip pressing down roughly on your tongue until you tasted salt and grime before he roughly let go. Your head snapped to the side but your eyes were still upon him.

"Why don't you hit me, Daddy?” you said, a grin spreading on your face. “I know we both want it."

Another slap hit your cheek instantly, this time, the ring wasn’t present. Not a backhanded slap but he must have used his palm. Your skin grew red and tingled, and you brought up your bound wrists so that you could brush a hand past the soreness.

"That's all you got? I know you can do better, Daddy." Okay, so perhaps you got a little overexcited. But you just loved to tease.

Another slap, this time harder, and while you moaned he was already upon you, his hands firmly on your shoulders. He pounced, testing your limits, his weight pressing you into the musty mattress. His hands slid from your shoulders to your neck and you felt him press his thumbs into your skin.

"Look at what you do to me," he hissed, his arousal unmistakable against your thigh. His hands were iron bands around your neck. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body betraying you with its own treacherous heat.

“What’s that?” His voice was low but you recognized the tease as his hands took away your airflow completely and only choked noises escaped your lips. He pressed the mask closer to your face, the wood brushed against the sensitive skin of your red cheeks.

“Fuck me, Daddy.”

He sat up a little straighter and you heard the chuckle behind the mask as he put his weight on you with his hips and legs alone, trapping you effectively underneath him. His hard cock pressed against your stomach through the layers of clothing, but he made no effort to hide it, bumped his hips against you so you were made extra aware.

“Aren’t you a little fuck doll for me?”

You thrashed underneath him, trying to nod, but his grip was too tight. Your throat started to feel deliciously sore, just as he let go.

“Beg me for it.”

The way he said it made tingles run down your spine. Your walls clamped down feebly around nothing, so eager for his cock.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you rasped as you tried to lean up on your elbow and stare the masked man in the eyes. “Now.”

A moment of silence passed as the Grabber stared you down, then he moved up, away from you.

“Not good enough,” he muttered to your irritation, and you instantly sat up, core aching to have this man’s cock inside of you now. You noticed he had started to undo the lower strap of the mask and watched with bated breath how he slowly removed it, the ugly devil’s chin and grin were disposed of, the straps loosely falling to the sides as it hit the concrete floor.

The man removed his belt next, rolling it around one fist until his knuckles turned white and the grin on his face imitated the one you’d seen earlier on the mask.

“Seems like I’ve got to learn the brat a lesson or two about how to suck up to someone.”

He took a step closer to you again and you felt the slick gather between your folds. God, you were wet for this man. How dominating he was, how forceful as his hand curled behind your neck, grasping your skin and forcing you with your head to look up at him.

“Open up,” and you did. You parted your lips and watched as the Grabber spat a big glob of phlegm straight in between your lips, then forced your mouth closed.

“Swallow.”

You made sure your eyes never left his as you did as you were told. The right reaction.

“Hmm, you swallow nicely. Makes me curious…” You felt how he gently rubbed circles with his thumb against your sore cheek, massaging your skin as he seemed to take you in, studying you, before he let go again.

“Stay just like this,” The low rasp came, and you weren’t surprised to see how the man eagerly disposed of his clothes. With hunger, you watched how his erection snapped free from his pants and smacked against his naked belly. His cock throbbed, globs of pre-cum gathered at the slit.

Daringly, you glanced up at him, seeing his smirk as he leered down at you. “Oh, this is no surprise to you, is it, sweetie?”

And then he guided the head of his shaft to your lips. “Open up.”

The salty taste felt like a relief, but it wasn’t enough. You encircled the head of his cock with your lips, sucking greedily and taking pride when he let out a throaty moan. Bobbing your head to take him deeper, you took pleasure in feeling his fingers on your shoulder, fingertips digging deep. It spurred you on, and you only let the cockhead slip from your lips so you could ask for more.

“Hurt me, Daddy.”

Your words set off a new glint in the Grabber’s eyes as his hold on you became more forceful. With his other hand, he gripped the back of your head, forcing you down on his cock until the head bumped against the back of your throat, going so deep it took your breath away.

He held you there, unable to breathe, while he wrapped something cold and hard against your throat. The belt, you recognized. So he hadn’t put it down?

With a rough movement, he bucked his hips, allowing you a moment to breathe before his belt was around your neck, constricting and guiding your movements. Your hands shot up instinctively to try and loosen it, but you lowered them again when you realized what he was up to and smirked at him instead.

“Na-ah,” he teased you, clearly enjoying the sight of you being choked by his belt and his hard cock. “You’re gonna suck Daddy’s cock and you’re gonna like it, sweetheart.”

And that was exactly what happened, as he gave you no other option but to move along his shaft. It only took a tug at the belt, gripped in his fists, to bring your lips closer to his hips. You felt his hot cock deep inside your mouth, the head bumping the back of your throat a few times before he pushed you back until the head nearly popped from between your lips. But then he tugged the belt again, forcing you closer and spearing you on his cock whilst the belt cut off your airflow.

The process was repeated a few times, with you struggling to take him in and to breathe. Low moans escaped the Grabber’s lips and you felt his hips bump against you while his cock hit the back of your throat, sliding in deep. His juices coated your tongue, pre-cum richly flowing from the tip as he made you hum and gurgle around his hard erection. And then he pressed in so deep that your nostrils were pressed against his pubic hairs, taking in his musky scent while he kept you there for a moment too long, enjoying the feel of your throat working around his cock.

“Hmm, lovely,” he murmured as he finally let go, his hands slipping over your head like a caress, allowing you to breathe again. You slipped from his grip, falling onto your ass, hands still bound, while you struggled to catch your breath. You glowered up at him, pussy all wet and excited, wishing he would just fuck you now.

He seemed to catch your silent wish, licking his lips with the tip of his tongue, pausing while he took himself in his own strong hand. You watched, enchanted, as he tugged at his own cock, hand running up and down his wet shaft a few times. It looked delicious, the way he was teasing his cockhead, pushing and pulling at the slit until new pre-cum bubbled out the top, streaming down the side of his shaft.

“Oh, is the poor pussy sore? Does it to milk my cock?” He teased, but you could tell his balls were heavy and loaded. You could see his cock twitch at the prospect of finally getting into your tight wet heat.

Your eyes turned wide at the suggestion. Apparently, he saw the internal struggle in your eyes, how you craved his cock, as he cooed you mockingly. “If you want me to fuck you, you must beg nicely.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, your bound hands in front of you, fingers digging into your own thighs to keep some form of control in this situation and stabilize yourself. “Fuck you. Stop stalling," you dared, your voice a husky whisper, throat deliciously sore after having deep-throated the Grabber to the full of your capabilities. "Show me what you've got."

"Brat," he spat, but there was a grudging respect in his grip, a recognition of equals in this twisted dance of dominance and desire.

His hands were rough as they seized the fabric of your shirt, ripping it away with a violence that sent shivers down your spine. Each tear echoed in the hollow basement, a symphony of destruction that sang to the darkest part of you.

“Eager, aren’t we?” you taunted, a smirk playing on your lips even as he stripped you bare.

"Shut up," he growled, but there was no malice in his voice – only hunger, raw and unbridled. He grabbed your pants next, yanking them down with an urgency that left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest like a caged bird desperate for release.

"Can't wait any longer, huh?" you whispered, a challenge laced with desire. Your pulse raced, adrenaline and arousal mingling in a potent cocktail that made the world seem sharper, more vivid.

"Neither can you," he shot back, his eyes locked onto yours. You could feel him, hard and insistent, and you arched your back, inviting him closer.

"Then what are you waiting for old man?" you urged.

With a moan that sounded like it had been torn from the depths of his being, he complied. He sank into you, rough and unyielding, and you gasped at the intensity of it all—pain and pleasure intertwining in a dance as old as time.

Fuck, it felt good. The man’s cock was definitely one of the bigger ones you’d ever had. His thrusts were raw and powerful, the sound of your arousal slickening the way reached your ears while the scent of sex hung heavy in the air.

His hands, strong and large compared to your frame, captured your breasts, wasting no time as he started to fumble with them, roughly knead them, his thumbs ever so often flicking past your nipples until they started to feel sore.

His touch was just right, the balance of pleasure and pain exactly what you needed.

And then, his lips were capturing your nipple, sucking so hard it would surely bruise. You couldn’t withhold another moan as you arched your back, pressing your breasts closer to his face while he tugged with his teeth, biting your nipple before lapping at it with his long wet tongue.

If you had known the Grabber had been like this, you’d have crossed paths with him sooner. Because the man was amazing.

He moved his head to the other side, grey hairs tickling your skin, the cold material of the mask brushing past your naked chest as he repeated his motions with your other nipple, nibbling on it like he was hunger for more of you.

You felt his hips press against yours, felt his cock hit you deep and hard. Your whole body was filled with desire, like hot flames licking inside your core. Your walls pulsed around his cock, begging him to take you deeper, to be rougher.

He was.

His hips moved more brutal, the wet and slick sounds reaching your ears as the hot stench of sex filled your nostrils. He drew his head back, one of your nipples still caught between his teeth, and you watched as he let go. Your nipple deliciously sore and erect as he kept pumping.

You could tell he was gritting his teeth and you tried to move your head closer to his so you could nip at his lips, biting gently until he let out a raw moan.

Deep inside of you, his cock hit that magical spot that made you see stars and you felt your orgasm was near. Just a few more thrust and he would chase you over the peak.

And then he moved angles, hooking one of your legs over his arm so he could hit you deep and hard and you cried out as you reached your peak, walls fluttering around him, milking him for all you were worth.

He didn’t come yet, though.

His thrust were firm as he kept up the pace. A low guttural moan escaped his lips. Your pussy sensitive around him as you came down from your high.

“Thought you were done, love? Think again, doll. I am just getting started.”

You whimpered when he retreated without a warning, his cock slipping from your sopping wet core with shaming ease. You looked up at him, cheeks flushed, still in the afterglow of your orgasm. But then he flipped you over, pushing your chest down on the filthy mattress and forcing your cheek down.

Another cry of pleasure escaped your lips as his cock slid back inside with ease. You felt a hand on your back, gently tapping, as he positioned himself with shallow thrusts. And then there was a rough smack against your ass before he started pounding harshly again, taking no pity on your poor cunt.

You gasped and moaned, trying to support yourself while you felt his hands roam your body, gently brushing past the nape of your neck before roughly squeezing down again.

And when that familiar belt encircled your neck, tightening with each thrust, you did not resist. Instead, you let him maneuver you up to your knees and leaned into the constriction, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps that fueled the fire within you.

In this angle, he was so deep inside, you could feel all of him inside of you. The hardness of his pulsing cock, the veins and all the ridges.

The loss of oxygen made your body squeeze tight around his pulsing shaft, your pussy clamping down like a vice on his hard cock. You tried to move your hips back, riding him as he rode you.

"Fuck, you really do love this, don't you?" he panted, his grip firm yet calculated, knowing just how far to push before it became too much.

"More," you managed to gasp out, riding the razor's edge between suffocation and ecstasy. His pace quickened, desperation clawing at his movements as he neared the precipice of release.

He was battering you now, your insides hurt so much that it felt so good. You weren’t going to be able to walk straight for days. Just the right kind of rough fuck that you had needed.

The man above you grunted as he buried himself balls deep. You could feel his cock pulsing, his balls tightening as he was close to tipping over the edge, His thrusts became rougher, harder, stroking you even deeper inside while his hands squeezed your breasts hard.

"Going to pull out," he warned, voice ragged with the effort of control. But you wouldn't have it. It wasn’t as if coming inside would have any consequences and so, you gave the command.

"Inside," the word a siren call that shattered his last semblance of restraint. With a guttural groan, he spilled himself within you, the act marking you in ways that went beyond the physical. You felt hotness flood deep into your core, felt how his cock hit you deep inside, balls pressed against you tight. It tipped you over the edge and you came again, not noticing he was squeezing one of your breasts tightly in his hand until you started to slowly come down from your high for the second time.

Had you really just done that? Had you really had one of the best fucks in your life?

As you both fought to catch your breath, an absurd bubble of laughter escaped your lips, the sound seemingly out of place in the grimness of your surroundings. He joined in, the chuckle muffled against your skin as he rested his forehead—still masked—against your naked shoulder.

"Didn't know I could enjoy something like this," he murmured, almost reflective amid the panting aftermath. His fingers worked quickly, deftly twisting your bounds until they had loosened. You flexed your fingers before you started to rub your wrists to try and get the blood flowing again.

“So,” he started, his voice a low murmur. “Those men…”

“Exes, almost lovers, men who cheated on my friends or were complete assholes.”

Although he was silent, you saw the slight movement of the mask as his chin tilted. So he had to think about that, huh?

“Like a little angel of justice,” he finally said, but you couldn’t tell if it was meant as a compliment or if you had disappointed him with your explanation.

“More like an angel of terror,” you matter-of-factly replied, brushing your hands past your thighs. “Dang, that was a good fuck though. I could get used to that cock of yours.”

A low hum escaped from behind his mask and you saw his hips jerk slightly. He seemed to like the compliment.

"Could keep you," he mused, the words hanging heavy between you. “Would be nice to have someone to share this all with. Talk to. Work together. Blow some steam off once in a while.”

A hum vibrated in your throat, noncommittal yet laced with dark intrigue "Yes," you whispered, the word slicing through the tension. "I could grow to like this... arrangement."

"Then I’ll better keep you alive, won’t I?" His voice was rough with amusement, the complete opposite of the frowning emotion on the mask.

“If you want to do this again,” you said.

He leaned closer to you and for a moment you feared what he was going to do. But when you felt his chapped lips press against your forehead you had to suppress a chuckle, because you had not expected for him to show this much sentiment.

With a push, he slid himself off the mattress. His bare feet sounded on the dirt floor like dull thuds. He turned, reaching for his discarded clothes.

A mistake.

With a grin, you revealed his belt from behind your back where you had kept it hidden while you had talked in the afterglow, the leather cool and smooth in your grip.

Carefully, you slipped from the mattress, naked feet on the floor, trailing after him. He was kneeling to pick up his pants when you, as silent as a ghost, came to stand behind him. He didn’t notice your presence until the belt was looped around his neck, catching him by surprise.

"Well, I really enjoyed our night together,” you said airily, like you hadn’t been his prisoner until a moment ago. “But I really got to be going. There’s a man waiting for me. Can’t disappoint a friend.”

You tightened the belt, the knuckles of your fists turning white by the sheer force while you enjoyed the sounds of him gasping. His hands reached for the belt, fingers unable to wiggle their way in between and relieve the pressure. Too thick, you thought as you watched the man struggle in your grip from above. Nice fingers to feel scissoring your cunt. But nope, you had to store that thought away for another rainy day. Perhaps next time when you visit him, you could get him to do a little foreplay on you.

The fact you even considered returning to this criminal was perhaps telling enough.

“I’m sure you’re clever enough to understand that next time when I come around, we’re gonna be fucking on your bed… or your couch or your kitchen. Any place that is not your creepy little basement.”

Then, you smirked, allowing him a little more space to breathe again. Which reminded you…

“I’m sure you’ll think twice about upsetting me,” your grin grew as you leaned forward, the belt tightening around his throat again while you whispered near his ear.

“Don’t forget,” you breathed, voice a low murmur, “You're only breathing because I allow it."

A serpent's hiss escaped your lips as you rose to your knees. The belt slipped away from his throat, falling to the floor with a clatter. His choked laughter bubbled up, the sound echoing off the concrete walls as you wrenched his phone from his pocket.

"Go ahead, try me," you taunted, the thrill of control sending shivers down your spine.

With a swift push against his chest, you sent him stumbling back. Not waiting to see if he recovered, you picked up your coat so you’d at least have something to cover your nakedness, and ascended the stairs, his laughter chasing you, a mad symphony to accompany your escape.

You stepped out of the basement, coming eye to eye with a large dog. With a grin, you flung the Grabber’s phone aside and onto the kitchen table, the bars finally popping up onto the screen, a freshly sent message illuminating the screen.

“Sit,” you told the dog, ignoring his growling as your eyes caught sight of something much more important. You stepped over to the kitchen counter, globs of sperm dripping down the inside of your leg. The dog seemed to have noticed it and stopped growling, curiously coming closer with his snout to brush past the inside of your leg – probably smelling his own master and being confused by it - while you picked up your own phone from the kitchen counter.

The Grabber’s phone number flashed on your screen and you grinned. You added his number. It would forever be embedded in your list… another name among many.

The man’s laughter still rang in your ears when you left his house, pinning the location on your phone and saving it for later.

Oh, you’d be back. And he’d better not break your heart.

AN: Hello lovelies. There's more fics to come, another Grabber one, a bit of Stu Macher. Bit of Afton. You'll see. For more, follow me (:

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#albert shaw x reader #the grabber x you #the grabber x reader #brat reader

302 notes · View notes

starlightkun · 1 year ago

Text

❧ word count: 18.3k ❧ warnings: cursing, renjun gets CONSENSUALLY dosed with a magical aphrodisiac For Science ❧ genre: fluff, humor, one (1) heavy makeout scene but no actual smut, 0.1 seconds of angst if you can even call it that, academic rivals to lovers, modern magical creatures au, college au, siren reader, human renjun ft. siren ten, same universe as strawberry sunday ❧ extra info: in my lore, siren scales are visible when they’re in more human-like forms because of magic, and it’s not an indication of their skin tone at all. so when the reader’s scales are mentioned, please don’t take this as any sort of allusion to them being pale/light-skinned! i tried to take care and make sure i wasn’t implying that in how i wrote it, but please tell me if it reads like that this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday but can be read as a standalone! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe, they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!) ❧ author’s note: y’all. get ready for this one. no spoilers but renjun and reader r both crazy and nobody should be subjected to them except each other. like they both look at the other and think “i could fix them but whatever the fuck is wrong with them is infinitely funnier to me” but they’re both Wrong. they could not fix the other. i don't want what they have but good for them. anyway as always i had way too much fun writing this that it went over my projected word count and i hope y’all have a lot of fun reading it too

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

“Would you shut up?” You sat back up, grabbing him by the hair.

“Why?”

“I’m trying to kiss you again, idiot.”

2608, 2610, 2612…

The numbers of the study rooms you passed by went up, up, up, as you continued your hunt. You knew he’d be here. It was the day before the first test in your Linguistics in Magical Creatures Studies class, meaning he was going to be holed up in the library until closing time. Now it was just a matter of finding him. Somewhere quiet, obviously, which was why you’d completely skipped the first floor with its wide-open “collaboration areas.” The second floor was all bookshelves and private study rooms that would hold four or five students at most. You peered into the narrow window on each painted metal door as you walked down the hall. While the first floor was recently renovated with new technology and upgrades such as the “collaboration areas” and bright pops of your university’s school colors that made for great promotional photos to put on the website and pamphlets to hand out to new students, this floor hadn’t had seen anything more than a janitor in a good couple decades. The musty, stale smell of old, unused books was all around you, the air conditioning hummed and clicked irregularly, all the furniture had ugly, outdated patterns, and the exactly three desktop computers they did have in a far back corner were practically as old as you. Which, in the digital age, meant that they were artifacts belonging in a museum.

And of course, sitting at very last one, as if he had been hiding behind all of these bookshelves from you personally, was Huang Renjun.

Renjun was sat in the wooden chair facing the computer, clearly deep in thought. He had one foot propped up on the wide chair seat as both of his hands were on the archaic-looking keyboard, speedily typing something out. He wore a pair of jeans, yellow hoodie, and a red backwards baseball cap kept his hair out of his face. An open energy drink can and empty bag of chips on the desk next to him belied that he had already been there for some time.

Now that you had found your target, you put on a burst of speed, stalking up to him from the side and smacking your hand down on the tabletop beside him. “Renjun.”

The human jumped in his seat, looking up from his screen to you. Taking his hands from the keyboard, he made a couple quick clicks on the mouse as he used the other to take his headphones out of his ears. “Y/N. Fucking hell… is your new strategy this semester to give me a heart attack and kill me?”

“If murder was on the table as part of our little academic rivalry, don’t you think I would’ve just drowned you after our Intro course freshman year?” You asked, tilting your head innocently. After all, you were a siren, that would be much easier than scaring him into an early cardiac episode.

Huang Renjun was not your friend. Not necessarily an acquaintance either, you’d known him for going on four years now, since your first class on your first day of college. The two of you were in the same Introduction to Magical Creatures Studies class. He had sat in the very front row, you just behind him in the second row. When your professor had asked an open question to the class, both you and Renjun eagerly blurted out the answer, Renjun just a millisecond before you. Dr. Li gave him the credit, and also requested that you two raise your hands in the future. And from then on you hated Huang Renjun.

Well, hate may be a strong word. You overlapped in at least two classes every semester being in the same major, and were both chronic overachievers. The first to raise your hands when a question was asked, studying in the library until closing (separately), and visiting professors’ office hours just to discuss topics from class further. Your professors noticed this. Some would pit the two of you against each other, and others would try to pair you up, whether on projects, research, or just in general, as a meeting of the minds or whatever. And you two would get your project done, pocket your As, and part ways again. Academic rival slash frenemy was the best way you could describe who Huang Renjun was to you.

“Who knows, you might still, if they ask me to carry the banner,” he muttered, picking his pen up and spinning it between his fingers.

This was your last semester, both you and Renjun were graduating in just a few months. At commencement, each department picked one “outstanding student” to lead the progression, carrying a flag with the department’s name and seal on it. This semester it was Magical Creatures Studies’ turn to select a student for the College of Humanities and Social Sciences, and your program head had already heavily implied that they could choose either you or Renjun, but they hadn’t made their final decision yet.

This was actually a pretty good segue into what you were really here to talk to him about. Pulling your lips into an alluring smirk, you nodded, “You’re right. It doesn’t take a rocket surgeon to figure out that—”

“A fucking what?” He cut you off, his face scrunching up as he blinked at you in confusion.

“Obviously it’s going to be one of us two, since we’re the two best students in the program.”

“Well, yes.” He nodded, seeming to let go of what had presumably been another one of your jumbled human malaphors. You admittedly hadn’t been living among humans for terribly long, and for some reason their idioms just didn’t stick in your brain very well.

“I mean, we not only are dedicated to the field itself and the content we study in class, but the program too. We probably know everybody in it, professors and students, right? Between the two of us?”

Renjun considered this for a moment. “Yeah, probably. We’ve both taken on a lot of SI and tutor opportunities for lower-level classes.”

“Right. So, you know those forums the school has on the online class platform? The general message boards?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I’m going to need you to sit tight with me on this until I finish talking, okay?” You pointed at him sternly. He nodded slowly. “Good. Back in the fall, about the end of September, I was on the message boards, just browsing around killing time. I was in the Tips & Advice section and saw this post. It was a gryphon who was losing feathers on one specific spot on her wing, and she didn’t know why. The witch she went to didn’t know why, nobody could figure it out. I was about to reply asking if it was her left or right, when I saw that somebody else already had. It was her left, and she’s a lefty. The same person replied again, asking if she sleeps with her wings out or not. She sleeps with them out. It turns out she was stress-preening in her sleep. Username: dr_magic2303. A couple weeks later, same message board, Tips & Advice, a human is suddenly producing dark purple goop from his feet but it’s so slippery he can’t even leave to go see a doctor or a witch and he was typing the post from his bathroom. Within an hour, this Dr. Magic is back telling him someone’s put an aether ooze hex on him, and to sit down and scoot on his butt to the kitchen and gather up all these ingredients for a cleansing foot bath. And if he doesn’t have them, then he’ll have to butt-scoot his way to an apothecary or call one who does home deliveries. Now people are posting on there specifically asking Dr. Magic to come heal all their magical aches and pains.”

Renjun stared at you, unblinking. The pen had gone still in his hand.

You breathed in, continuing, “I tracked this Dr. Magic all the way back to their first post in the first week of fall semester of this year. Now, I’ve been trying to figure out who they are on my own, and I’ve made a lot of progress on who they aren’t. But I’m going to lose access to those message boards once we graduate at the end of the semester. I know Dr. Magic has to be an MCS major, there’s no way they would be able to have to breadth, depth, and flexibility of knowledge by just Googling this stuff. And you and me, Renjun, I know we can do this. Not only do we know MCS, but we know the department, the people in it. It has to be us.”

He was still staring at you, mouth slightly agape. Then, his whole demeanor shifted. He dropped his leg so that both his feet were on the ground, and he resumed spinning the pen.

“Okay. I’ll help you.” He nodded thoughtfully. “If you’ll do something for me.”

“Do what?” You straightened up.

“I’ll tell you after we find Dr. Magic.”

You crossed your arms. “No, tell me now or no deal.”

“I tell you after, but you can still say no then if you don’t want to do it.” He bargained.

“That just sounds even more concerning, Renjun. Tell me now or I’ll do it myself.”

“I’m hurt. What happened to ‘it has to be us?’”

“I’m a siren, I know how to sweet talk. Don’t take it personally.” You snorted. “Now, what do you want from me?”

“You’re a siren,” he echoed plainly, as if that were all the explanation you needed.

“And you’re a genius.” You retorted. “Tell me now or I walk out.”

“I... want to experience siren venom. For science.”

Oh, you could kiss him right now, no deal necessary. He was meeting your gaze head-on, a slightly unhinged glint in his eye. Not a hint of fear, just a craving for new experiences, unbridled curiosity. Yeah, he was a bit crazy, you were realizing four years on, and you wanted him.

“You’re insane.”

He leaned back in his seat, putting his hands up in front of him in an ‘I-don’t-care’ gesture, “If you don’t want to find Dr. Magic—”

“I didn’t say no, I said you’re insane,” you corrected him with a grin, dragging your eyes up and down his form as he sat so confidently, negotiating with a siren like it was any average Tuesday for him.

“So do we have a deal?” He set his pen down and held a hand out to you.

“You help me find Dr. Magic, then I’ll spit in your mouth.” You momentarily thought about the disparity in division of labor on that, but decided not to point it out aloud. Easiest handshake of your life. “Deal.”

You wanted to eat him alive.

“You’ve tried IP tracking?” Renjun asked, scrolling through your word document of notes that you’d accumulated on Dr. Magic.

“‘You’ve tried IP tracking?’” You mimicked him under your breath, making your voice so high-pitched to the point of mocking.

He rolled his eyes.

This was your first meet-up to try to hunt down Dr. Magic together. It was a couple weeks after he had agreed to help you in the first place. There was a test and some assignments in a few of your classes to get through first before either of you had enough spare time to dedicate to this. But now the two of you were back in the library, having taken a study room on the second floor and set up with your own laptops. You’d sent him your notes to look through on it while you perused the message board for any new posts from Dr. Magic.

“You do know that any geographical location an IP address can give you will just be the city, right? It’s not like the movies,” you snorted, dropping your voice back down to your normal intonation as you shook your head. “Anyway, I did do some extra legwork with the IPs, and matched most of them to desktop computers here in the library. I think the others are a personal device, their laptop or something.”

“They’re all different.”

You tutted at him, “Oh, you sweet Thursday’s child…”

“That’s not the say—”

“They’re all somehow on other continents. Now, I don’t think Dr. Magic teleporting abroad and cross-dimensionally to make forum posts.”

“VPN?”

“Definitely. They’re covering their tracks, they almost never use their own device, and when they have to, they use a VPN to cover up the IP address of it.”

He made a noise of acknowledgement, eyes still focused on his screen.

Then, something on the forum caught your eye. “Oh! Right here. Thirty-six minutes ago, a dryad posted that she can’t sprout daffodils from her body anymore. Every other plant and flower are fine, except daffodils. She posted it specifically asking Dr. Magic if they know what’s wrong with her.”

“Huh.” Renjun’s brow furrowed. “Just daffodils?”

“That’s what it says,” you confirmed, making a few clicks on your computer. “And… ‘notify me.’”

“You can turn on notifications for forum posts?”

“You can’t,” you informed him smugly. “But one of the sirens in my pod, he’s got a bunch of CompSci friends who I paid to write a browser extension for me that bookmarks forum posts and sends me email notifications when anybody replies to them. So I’ll know exactly when Dr. Magic responds.”

“You…”

“Have definitely spent too much time, energy, and money on this, I know. Sunken cost fallacy, look it up.”

“I was going to say ‘are insane,’” he breathed out, his voice a mixture of awe and disbelief.

When you looked up from your computer at him, you saw that he had a curious gaze fixated on you, eyes narrowed slightly, mouth parted, and head tilted ever so slightly to the side.

You leaned forward minutely, holding his eye contact. “Takes one to know one, Junnie.”

He looked down at his keyboard, shifting in his seat before he looked back up at you. “Why are you calling me that?”

“Do you not like it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So you do like it.” You smirked.

He frowned. “I didn’t say that either.”

“Well do you?”

“Answer my question.”

“Answer mine.”

“I asked first.”

“Ooh, how very primary school,” you teased, setting your chin in your hand.

“It’s only fair.” He pointed out.

“We could flip a coin.”

“Y/N.”

“Junnie.”

The human sighed, holding your eye contact wordlessly, looking entirely unamused.

You finally gave in with a casual shrug. “I just am.”

“Seriously? We’ve known each other for four years and you’ve never called me that—you’ve called me plenty of other things—but now suddenly you’ve got a nickname for me?”

“I’m not trying to be derogatory with it, if you’re worried about that,” you clarified. “Just sort of happened. I’m a siren, I flirt with cute people, sorry. Do you want me to stop calling you that?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing some off his face as he turned his focus back down to his screen. “It’s fine.”

“Anyway, I bookmarked the new forum post, so it’ll go on the board.”

“The board?”

“I, uh, I may be using a spare wall in my apartment to host a conspiracy theory board with you know, the red string and thumbtacks and stuff…” You admitted quietly.

“Can I see it?”

“Ho-ly shit,” Renjun breathed out, staring up at the multiple time-stamped printouts of forum posts, pictures of classmates and faculty, sticky notes, and yards of red string that you had pinned to a blank wall in your apartment.

You stood next to him, gazing up at your creation with a strange mixture of pride and embarrassment. This was the first time you’d let someone see this, and you were kind of glad it was Renjun. He actually seemed impressed. You were sure that any of your friends and family would be weirded out at best, and very concerned at worst.

“Yeah, I’m adding color copies off the school printers to the invoice I’m sending Dr. Magic at the end of all this.”

“You’re sending them an invoice for your self-assigned mission to hunt them down?” He snorted.

“Yup. It’s their fault for not using their school-issued login.” You crossed your arms. “Makes them enigmatic.”

Your classmate pointed to one of the headshots. “Is that Dr. Li?”

“Did you think our scope was narrowed to just students? Faculty have access to the message boards, too. And we’ve learned everything we know from our professors, so they obviously have the knowledge and skill to be Dr. Magic.”

“And their names also start with Doctor.” He added dryly, which you took to be a joke.

You decided that it wasn’t at your expense, though, and after giving a short chuckle, continued on with your explanation of why you specifically had your program head up on the board. “When I was grilling Dr. Li for information in the fall, he was giving me very duplicitous answers. Pointed me towards a freshman who I swear didn’t even know the difference between Arctic sirens and glacial sirens.”

“You think it was a diversion.”

“Obviously.”

Renjun tapped his chin thoughtfully. “What sort of questions were you asking him?”

“I couldn’t straight up ask him if he was Dr. Magic. So I was asking him things like... other than you and me, who did he think was the best student in the program, that kind of stuff. Said that kid reminded him of you and me on that first day of Intro to MCS.” You couldn’t help but let out an indignant scoff at the idea. “Can you believe? Didn’t know the difference between Arctic and glacial sirens…”

“Who was it?”

“Some basilisk in one of his Intro classes last semester. Uh…” You snapped your fingers as you tried to remember his name. “Seunghan! Hong Seunghan!”

“Seriously?” The human turned to look at you incredulously, clearly offended at the comparison as well.

“Seriously!”

He clutched at his chest like he was about to have a heart attack. “That’s who he thinks is the next us? I was an SI for that class…”

“I know! He’s not the brightest tool in the shed, huh?”

“So close, Y/N. So close…” He sighed.

“It almost completely threw me off my search for Dr. Magic. I figured I needed to seriously step up my game in his undergrad research or something.” You shook your head at the horrible memory. “Then I realized he might have been trying to get me to do exactly that.”

“Huh.” Renjun folded his arms over his chest as he looked away, pretending not to seem interested. “You did research with Dr. Li last semester?”

“Don’t give me those kicked puppy dog eyes, you’re doing research with Dr. Kwon this semester and she’s like, my academic idol!” You pointed at him accusatorily.

“And Dr. Li is mine!”

You waved your arms in front of you, shaking yourself out of the academic envy-induced frenzy you’d gotten worked up into. “We’re getting off-topic. We’re here to catch Dr. Magic, remember?”

“Right…” He took a deep breath, turning back to the conspiracy wall.

As Renjun studied your work, you studied him. You had a strand of fairy lights clipped up above the conspiracy wall for light and ambiance (mostly ambiance), and they now lit his features from the front. He didn’t have a baseball cap on today, leaving his brown hair to fall over his forehead, down past his eyebrows and just into his eyes. He blinked and shook his head slightly. A piece had presumably been bothering him. The curving slope of the bridge of his nose, his lips, his chin that he still had one hand propped up to hold, a finger tapping against his cupid’s bow like a metronome. You listened closer, curious if it would be mimicking the beat of his heart. The tapping was just slightly slower than his heart, and would stop if he found something that he took particular interest in, then start back up when he moved on again.

Not that you were going to tell him, but you were double motivated to find Dr. Magic now. Seeing Renjun under your venom was going to be a reward all on its own. You understood full well why he felt like he needed to ask you as part of an exchange like this, but he seemed to greatly underestimate his own selling value. Which was good for you. This was a win-win-win in your eyes.

Thinking of the deal made you curious, though. He had that request ready to go almost like…

“So, do you want to be petrified by a basilisk, too?”

Renjun didn’t take his eyes off the wall. “Already have been.”

“Really?”

“My friend Mark is a basilisk. When he had just gotten his powers a couple years ago and couldn’t control them, he kept accidentally petrifying his human roommate. So I figured out when it was most likely to happen, invited myself over and hid his sunglasses. It was strange, being able to think but not speak, see but not blink, and telling my muscles to move and not having them obey.” He casually detailed what sounded like one of the most horrifying experiences ever to you, leaning in towards a specific post from November. “But it only lasted one minute and twenty-nine seconds.”

You stared at him with both admiration and alarm. “You manufactured an opportunity to get petrified.”

“I knew he wouldn’t do it if I asked. He’s a wimp. That, and he couldn’t do it on command at the time, even if he did agree.”

“Have you had your blood drank?”

“Yup.”

“Been flying?”

“How so?” His eyes flicked over to you for a second, and you were glad that you had relaxed again with the more casual conversation.

“With a gryphon, phoenix, take your pick.” You shrugged.

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you have a list for this stuff or something?”

“Written down, no. But I suppose I have a mental list.”

“Poisoned by a wyvern?”

“Would have to find one first.”

You felt your eyes bug out of your head. “You want to be poisoned by a wyvern? You know there’s no cure for that, right?”

“Yes, I took the same class that you did on them last spring.” He reminded you tersely. Your head jerked back minutely, surprised for a second that he had noticed, remembered, and brought it up. The two of you didn’t have a spat in that class, taking an ‘ignore and pretend the other doesn’t exist’ approach that semester when you could, and hadn’t mentioned it since. Seeming to realize what he’d done, Renjun rushed to move on, “So I also know that there’s no cure because they went extinct hundreds of years ago.”

“Supposedly.”

“You think they’re still out there?”

“Maybe.”

“Hm.” He stepped to the side to read over the next post from the first week of December.

You scoffed. “Okay, coming from the guy who believes in aliens.”

“We haven’t explored all of space. But we know what habitats wyverns lived in, and they’re not there anymore.”

“They could’ve adapted, gone somewhere else,” you tried to argue. “I’m not exactly splashing around the ocean right now, am I?”

“Where did they go, then?”

“I... I don’t know,” you admitted, holding yourself by your arms protectively.

“Hmph.”

You tightened your grip, swallowing hard against the lump threatening to grow in your throat. “I just don’t want to believe they’re gone, okay?”

“So this isn’t a scientific hypothesis, but some rosy daydream?” Renjun’s disapproval of the lack of academic rigor in your argument was clear in his tone as his eyes never left your wall, following a red string up to your next connection for Dr. Magic.

“I don’t want to believe that wyverns went extinct because that means that sirens could too! Alright?” You finally snapped, hands squeezing tightly around your biceps as your claws came out with the raw burst of emotion. “I know that Magical Conservation was just some class to you, but I had to sit there and take notes on how exactly the native habitats of sirens—me, my friends, my family—are shrinking, and could theoretically lead to our extinction, and then write a discussion post on it after like it was some intellectually stimulating bit of information. So yeah, maybe I like to imagine that there’s still wyverns out there somewhere, because it gives me a modicum of hope that after everything, there could still be sirens, too. Sorry that that’s not academic enough.”

The image of Renjun that you had been yelling at in front of you was wavering as tears swam in your vision. He’d turned around to listen, mouth parting as he seemed to immediately realize his mistake. The human nodded regretfully, running a hand through his hair before finally picking his words.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to be so dismissive. I-I misread the tone of the discussion. Sirens aren’t wyverns, and you won’t meet the same fate they might have. Siren advocacy and conservation groups are making huge progress. The world now is a lot different than it was hundreds of years ago,” Renjun said, and you could hear both the remorse and firm belief in his tone. “And who knows, maybe there are still some wyverns out there. I could be wrong... it’s been known to happen before.”

You took a deep breath, your claws receding back into your fingers and just leaving your normal fingernails. As you looked down at your arms, though, you let out a sigh.

“Damn, I got myself.” You clicked your tongue in your throat regretfully, spotting a few drops of what looked like molten silver metal welling to the surface where you’d punctured your skin.

“Ooh,” Renjun winced sympathetically. “Do you have some… bandages?”

“Even better, I’ve got running water.” You started towards the door, then noted that there were no footsteps behind you. Turning back around, you looked at the human knowingly. “Do you want to watch, Renjun?”

He perked up. “Please?”

“Come on,” you jerked your head, holding your arms level as you shuffled towards your kitchen.

Thankfully, you hadn’t been nearly deep enough to get your scales, just the skin overtop. Turning the kitchen faucet on, you grabbed one of your sleeves, then looked at your classmate imploringly.

“A little help, Junnie?” You nodded towards your other arm, where the end of your sleeve was getting close to your blood.

“Oh, sure.” He surged forward to help you roll up the other one.

“I know you know this but be careful not to touch my blood,” you reminded him, finally pulling up the sleeve you’d started on well enough. Siren blood was a neurotoxin to humans—and not the fun kind like your venom, but a proper ‘kill you in an excruciatingly painful way’ kind.

“Uh-huh, got it.”

A couple drops on your left and a drop on your right had run down to your elbows, and you just managed to catch yourself so that they dripped into the sink and not onto your counter (or gods forbid, Renjun). Looking over to make sure he was watching, you stuck your left bicep under the stream of water first. The ocean blue scales that peeked through your skin shimmered in the kitchen lights directly above your head. Thankfully you hadn’t come anywhere close to nicking one of those. That would’ve actually hurt. Within a second of touching the water your skin had meshed itself back together. You turned your arm to rinse off the blood, then brought it back out to show that there was no scar left. Doing the same with the other, it healed just as quick, no mark left behind to indicate that anything had ever happened.

“Yep…” Renjun breathed out as you grabbed a hand towel and went to dry off your arms. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.”

“How many does that make?” You giggled.

“What?”

“How many creatures have you seen magically heal themselves? What number am I?”

“You make me sound so…”

“Like a common MCS whore?”

“I was going to say clinical, but damn, tell me how you really feel, Y/N.”

Both of you laughed, and you put the hand towel back.

“You’re the first siren,” Renjun answered your question genuinely anyway.

You hummed as you mulled this over. “I’ll take it.”

He made a dramatic motion of wiping sweat off his forehead, and you reached forward to smack his forearm. You two laughed again.

After a bout of comfortable silence, your eyes settled on him again, still thinking about exactly how you’d accidentally stabbed yourself in the first place.

“I forgive you, by the way,” you said. “I don’t think I said that.”

“You didn’t.” He nodded. “Thank you.”

“You really mean all that? You think I’ll—we’ll be okay? Sirens?”

“Of course I mean it. Or I wouldn’t have said it. It’s the most scientifically plausible. I did take that Magical Conservation class seriously, you know. I know it couldn’t have meant the same thing for me as it means to you, but I did my final paper on siren conservation projects in the Arctic. The progress that’s being made there is incredible. I-I don’t want to tell you about your own species’ problems, obviously, but—”

“I did mine on siren conservation in the tropics.” You let out a dry chuckle at the flawless symbiosis. “You can tell me about your paper sometime, Renjun.”

“And I’d love to hear about siren conservation in the tropics.”

“Ah, ‘a meeting of the minds.’” You did your best impression of Dr. Li, thinning your voice out to sound like an elderly man, which garnered a smile from Renjun. “Isn’t this what our professors always wanted?”

“Uh-oh. We’re giving them exactly what they want.” He shook his head ruefully. “Quick, you need to start yelling at me about something.”

“Well you need to say something obnoxious first.”

Another gentle lull in the conversation, and you watched as Renjun looked around your apartment a lot more carefully than when you two had first entered. Your destination then had been solely the conspiracy wall, but now he seemed to be really taking it in.

“So why don’t you have like… a fish tank or something?” He asked.

“Because that would be cruel! Imagine if someone kept you in a 2-foot by 2-foot box!” You jabbed a finger into his chest accusatorily.

He held his hands up in surrender. “You’re right. That was a stupid question.”

“I’m glad you said it, because I was about to.”

“So why don’t you reply? To the posts.” Renjun asked curiously, back to trolling the message boards for new Dr. Magic posts. You two were holed up in your second floor study room again. “You’ve been tracking Dr. Magic so closely, you’re getting to these posts before they do, and you can help all these students, too. So why don’t you just reply instead?”

Yours and Renjun’s search for Dr. Magic had been going on for a month now, and he’d been proving himself useful. He’d finally convinced you to rule out Dr. Li as a suspect when he found a message board post made from a school computer while Dr. Li was away at a conference giving a presentation. Confirmed to be done at the exact same time. So you’d found another wrong person, but you still didn’t feel any closer to the right person. The remaining people felt like they were going to turn out to be dead ends, and there was nobody good to rule in either.

Spring break was coming up in a few weeks, which meant that commencement preparations would be starting, which meant that the colleges would be announcing who would be chosen to carry their banners, which meant the actual students who were going to be chosen would be told at least a week or two ahead of time. Every time you thought about that you wanted to bite something. Maybe there was some ancestral link between sirens and werewolves. Another paper waiting to be written.

“They don’t want me. They want Dr. Magic.” You told Renjun, hating the irritable edge in your voice when you addressed him. You weren’t upset with him, you were just anxious in general. He didn’t deserve to have you take it out on him.

“Right. Sorry…”

“No, Renjun, I’m sorry,” you sighed, taking the wood pencil out of your mouth that you had been gnawing on. “I just want to get this Dr. Magic stuff over with before midterms because you and I are both going to get super busy studying for midterms, and then no matter which one of us gets picked to carry the banner, that’s going to suck up a lot of time preparing for commencement too. I shouldn’t have snapped at you though, sorry.”

He offered you a small smile. “It’s okay, I get it. It’s another deadline. But it’s a group project, remember? We’ve got this, Y/N.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I know. Just feeling the pressure. I’m going to get something from the vending machine. You coming?”

“No, I’ll keep chugging along.”

“Okay. You want anything?”

“Nah. Thanks, though.”

“Alright,” you nodded, standing up and rolling your neck out. “I’m going to stretch my legs while I’m up, so I’ll be a few.”

“I won’t sound the alarm then.” He gave you a two-fingered salute as you headed to the door.

You meandered around the second floor, taking your sweet time to get to the stairs. There was a vending machine on the second floor, but it had a limited selection. The good snacks were all in the vending machines on the first floor, by the collaboration zones. Your back cracked all on its own as you plodded down the steps, and you let quiet groans with each one, until you finally landed on the first floor. There was a noticeable hum to the first floor, which only increased as you neared the two-thirds of the floor that was taken up by the collaboration zones. The vending machines were on the boundary of the bookshelves and the open spaces filled with tables and TV monitors and so many students.

Stopping in front of the drinks machine first, you mused over the options for a moment. Picking out your preferred seaweed-infused iced tea—an option you only saw sirens and the really hardcore human health-nuts drink—you then sidestepped to the snacks. It took you just a second to select a pack of mini peanut butter sandwich cookies. Neither peanut butter nor peanuts themselves were in the regular diet of a siren, but Renjun sometimes had the cookies on him for one of his werewolf friends and you’d picked up a taste for them. You would’ve never considered even trying them before hanging out with Renjun. Being an MCS major, you didn’t like to admit it, but your social circle wasn’t very diverse species-wise. You had your siren pod, and you were very happy sticking with them, thank you. Renjun, meanwhile, seemed to be best friends or friendly acquaintances with everything except a wyvern. You knew plenty about other species, after all, you excelled in class. But practical experience, you were finding you seemed to be lacking in. Maybe you should start your own Renjun-esque bucket list. Something to consider after finding Dr. Magic.

Taking a step back over to the drinks machine, you made the split-second decision to get Renjun’s favorite non-caffeinated, non-alcoholic drink. Honeydew melon soda. He had already said that you didn’t need to get him anything, but you wanted to.

“Hey, Y/N!” A cheerful voice greeted you, and you spun around, your two drinks and bag of sandwich cookies in hand.

You already knew who it was going to be, smiling at the familiar face of Ten. He was not only another siren, but specifically a siren from your pod, ocean blue scales and golden eyes matching your own. You threw your arms around his neck to give him a hug. “Ten! Ah, hey!”

“Are those… peanut butter?” He looked at the snack in your hand suspiciously.

“Uh, human study buddy,” you brushed off his concerns nonchalantly.

“Right, gotcha.”

The two of you usually hung out a lot—about as much as you and Renjun were together now, you figured—but since your spare time had been taken up with putting the search for Dr. Magic on full throttle, you were blanking on the last time you’d seen him. The beginning of the semester. Oh shit, you felt so guilty now.

The apology immediately started spilling out of your mouth, “Gods, I am so sorry we haven’t hung out, I wish I could say it was classes, or even research or something, but I’ve got this project. I can’t even really explain it without sounding crazy but—”

“Woah, Y/N, it’s okay,” Ten reassured you with a laugh, the same bright smile on his face as always. “I know how you get when you get really into one of your projects. Just let me know when you’ve finished it, and we can hang. Or if you ever need a break from it, too. It’s fine. If you weren’t a little crazy and obsessive, I wouldn’t be able to recognize you.”

He ruffled your hair with a snicker for good measure, and with your hands full of food, you couldn’t fight back, just huff and try to duck out of the way. But he was genuine about his sentiments, which really did make you feel better.

“Thanks, Ten. I’ll get in touch soon, I promise. I think I’m almost done!” You told him proudly.

“Soon in normal person time or soon in Y/N time?”

“Me time…”

“That’s what I thought. I’ll see you in six months then.”

“I’m not that bad!”

“Remember when I wondered aloud if sirens at the North and South poles were related, and you ended up spending our entire winter break researching that?”

“It only took four weeks!”

“You said it would be a quick search.”

“Exactly! People will dedicate their entire lives to that kind of research! I vastly condensed it!”

He shook his head fondly at the memory, elbowing you gently. “Get back to your project so you can finish early again and we can hang out soon, okay? And scoot, I’m trying to use the vending machine. You’re always in my way, I swear.”

You playfully pretended to block him, laughing as he nudged you out of the way with his shoulder. Starting back off towards the stairs, you turned around to give a cheery, “See you, Ten!”

“Bye, Y/N!” He waved to you with one hand, punching in the vending machine code with the other.

In better spirits having seen your friend, you traipsed up the stairs with extra pep in your step. Except Renjun wasn’t in your study room. Huh. Well, nothing in the rules saying a guy can’t take a bathroom break.

Setting his melon soda down next to his laptop, you plopped back down in your chair and kicked your feet up on the table. You ripped open your peanut butter sandwich cookies and cracked open your tea. The cookies were sweet, and while you didn’t have any oceanic reference for what peanut butter tasted like (you were told that “nutty” was a flavor profile unto itself, which wasn’t very helpful), you had decided that you liked it.

Waking your laptop back up, you saw that you had a new email, and shot up in your seat when you saw the subject.

dr_magic2303 replied to a post.

8 minutes ago.

Holy fucking shit, 8 minutes ago. While you were in the library? They could still be there. You looked around frantically. Where the fuck was Renjun when you needed him? Shooting to your feet, you snatched your phone from the table and rushed to throw the door open. Into Renjun’s face.

He stumbled back, holding his face as he let out a string of curses.

“Shit! Sorry, Junnie!” You didn’t sound all too sorry as you bounced on your feet, antsy to get a move on with your search. “No time for an ice pack though. Dr. Magic just replied to that dragon post we had bookmarked eight minutes ago. Which means that they’re probably still in the library! We need to go look for them right now!”

You took off in the direction of the desktop computers on this floor, keeping your voice at a fervent whisper-yell. The second floor computers were their favorite, according to the IPs.

“I know!” Renjun hurried after you, still clutching his nose. “I saw the email, and I tried to call you, but you left your phone in the study room.”

Checking your phone, you did in fact have a missed call from Renjun from 6 minutes ago. Well shit.

“So I went to go get you, but you weren’t at the vending machines, so I came back up to the study room and then nearly got my nose broken.”

You looked over your shoulder at him with wide eyes. “You went to get me? Not look for Dr. Magic on the freshest lead we’ve ever had? When they were quite possibly around the corner?”

The two of you had arrived at the desktops, and there was nobody in sight. One was awake, on the account login screen, the other two asleep on the ancient screensavers. You let out a heavy sigh, looking over at Renjun.

“I went to get you because this is your thing, not mine. I don’t know, I’d figured you’d want the satisfaction of taking the mask off them.”

You nodded. “Thanks, Junnie. Next time, though, just get them.”

“And how about you keep your phone on you?”

“So we both fucked it up.”

He gave you a one-shouldered shrug. “There’s still three more floors, Y/N.”

“Right, come on. You take the first, I’ll go up to the fourth since I smacked you with the door.”

The other floors were busts, and when you finally met back up with Renjun in your study room, you were glad to have your cold bottle of tea waiting for you. Knocking back a third of it in one go, you let out a noise of relief. Renjun had already opened the soda you’d gotten him.

“Thanks, by the way.” He held it up gratefully before taking a sip.

“You’re welcome.”

“And, I’m sorry. That I let Dr. Magic get away.”

“We don’t even know what floor they were posting from yet. They’ve could’ve been on the fourth floor and would’ve been gone by the time you got there anyway.” You brushed away his apologies. “Or they could’ve been on the second and been a psycho and you would’ve been a poor defenseless human all by yourself.”

“Oh, right, without my big strong siren to protect me.” He scoffed. “Woe is me.”

“Exactly,” you laughed, shutting your laptop. “Anyway, I’ll take a look at the IP later. Who knows, they might not have even been in the library. Might’ve been one of those rogue VPN posts.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He looked over you packing up your things. “You heading out?”

You nodded, zipping up your bag and tossing it onto your shoulder. “Prior arrangements. Sorry to cut this short, completely forgot about it when we agreed to meet up.”

“You’re so popular.”

“I know!” You mimicked his sarcastic tone, holding the door open with your foot as you stopped in the threshold. “Oh, hey— the midterm in MCS Linguistics. It’s my only one this semester, I’ve just got papers in all my other classes. Do you want to study together for that?”

“Yeah, sure, sure.”

“First session Saturday? My place for lunch?”

Renjun grimaced, presumably remembering your typical stock of pantry items tailored to a siren’s food preference. “I’ll pack a lunch.”

“Cool. See you in class, Junnie!” You waved to him cheerily as you took off for the faculty advisor meeting with Dr. Kwon that you were going to need to run across campus to be on time for.

“What is it?” Renjun set his book down where he was sat across your coffee table from you, an inquisitive eyebrow quirked up at you.

“What? Nothing.” You bit down on your lip, eyes boring holes into your computer screen.

“No, it’s not ‘nothing.’ You’ve been staring at me ever since I got here, while also refusing to make eye contact with me. What? Something in my teeth? My hair look bad?”

Normally that would’ve made you chuckle—he was wearing a backwards baseball cap again today—but you just bit down harder on your lip and shook your head.

“Now you’re refusing to talk?” He scoffed. “Did you get hexed or something? I can’t believe you’re refusing to talk.”

“No, I can talk,” you insisted. “What uh, what’d you get for number four? On the review packet?”

“Don’t tell me you’re still stuck on number four. Y/N, I’m almost done, and there’s twenty-five questions on this.”

“I’m not, I finished and went back, it was just one that I didn’t—”

But Renjun had grabbed your computer and turned the screen around, and you knew he could see that you had only done the first one. You buried your face in your hands, your skin prickling uncomfortably with shame. Your friend’s sigh was audible, but surprisingly, the next thing said wasn’t a string of derision. Instead, you heard the shuffle of clothes against your rug, and then he was sitting shoulder-to-shoulder and knee-to-knee with you.

“Y/N, what’s going on with you today? Or, not today, the past couple days? You weren’t all there in class yesterday either. I left it alone then because it was Dr. Hyun, and nobody is ever all there for her classes but— what’s wrong?”

You slowly shook your head.

“You can’t tell me?”

You nodded.

“Okay. Is it bad? Like, dangerous?”

You shook your head.

“Alright, that’s good.” The relief was audible in his voice. “Is it family? Or, pod?”

You shook your head.

“School?”

You nodded.

“Alright, yeah. A lot going on. Is it like burn out?”

You shook your head.

“So, new stuff?”

You nodded.

He put an arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I know you already had a lot. Getting this midterm over with will be one more thing off your checklist, right? That’ll open a spot for this new thing.”

With a sniffle, you nodded.

“Ah, but you’re not going to be any good studying like this.” He sighed again, dropping his arm from around your shoulders and his presence shifted away from your side. “Come on, quick field trip. Then we’ll come right back to the MCS Linguistics grind. Sound good?”

You finally took your hands from your face to look up. Renjun was standing right next to you, offering you a hand. You tentatively put yours in his, and he tightened his grip to pull you up to your feet.

The two of you ended up in a froyo shop down the street from your apartment. You gleefully picked a gummy shark off the top of your swirl, biting the head off first before tossing the rest in your mouth. Renjun lifted a meticulously curated spoonful of froyo and toppings to his mouth, satisfaction on his face as he tasted his perfect bite. You watched in amusement as he went to start creating his next scoop that had the precise ratio of yogurt and every single topping he had chosen—each partitioned to their own area atop the froyo. You decided to save your second big gummy shark for last, and took a big spoonful from the melting edge of your froyo.

“Why not me?” Renjun asked abruptly, his gaze still on the dessert in front of him.

“Huh?” Your jaw dropped. How could he have known what—

“You haven’t asked me if I’m Dr. Magic. Why not?”

Ah, Dr. Magic. Of course.

“You were my first guess, and the first person I ruled out back in like September,” you admitted with a shrug.

His head snapped up at that. “What? Why?”

“Because you’re such an arrogant, neurotic overachiever that you’d want credit if you did all this. You wouldn’t use an alias.”

“Oh. Huh.” Renjun looked between you and his froyo, a sheepish smile coming to his face. “Strangely, that makes me feel better.”

You watched a dollop of froyo fall off your spoon and plop back into your cup. “And I nabbed your IP address off your laptop the first time we hung out in January and double-checked it with every Dr. Magic post. Just in case.”

“When I was in the bathroom?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Of course you did.”

“Were you taking it as an insult to your intelligence that I had apparently not considered you as an option?”

“Maybe…”

You laughed, and laughed, and laughed. You laughed so hard your sides hurt, there were tears in your eyes, and you genuinely started wheezing. Renjun pretended to roll his eyes, but you saw the smile on his face and knew what he was thinking: success, no more mopey siren.

Once you had enough air back in your lungs to talk, you pointed your spoon at him firmly. “See? Just proving my point. You want people to know you’re smart.”

He crossed his arms. “As if you don’t.”

“Oh, I definitely do. But I know I’m like that.” You put a hand over your chest, looking him dead in the eye. “Do you?”

With your head screwed back on the normal amount, you and Renjun were able to dive back into your study session at your apartment. Several hours into it, though, you noticed Renjun blinking like way too much and constantly rubbing at his eyes. It was to the point where it was distracting for you.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” You asked bluntly.

That immediately burst the Renjun griping dam (which was really held together with tape and prayers anyway). “The screens hurt my eyes and human blue light glasses don’t do shit and no fairy has let me try theirs out. I know I should probably just take the plunge and buy them but I really can’t justify the price and—”

“Try mine.” You stood up, walking over to a display shelf on the other side of the living room.

“You have a pair? Why? Sirens don’t—”

“You collect magical experiences. I collect magical things.” You said nonchalantly, grabbing the pair of silver frames from where they sat between a phoenix feather (a gift) and a small wristwatch that would tell the correct time until it was put on, then it would be set on the time and date most significant to the wearer in that moment until it was removed. Walking back over to him, you held them out to him insistently, “Here, try them.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Renjun gingerly took them, sliding the arms over his ears and the frames onto the bridge of his nose. The pair you had was a little older, admittedly. You’d picked them up at a novelty shop, so they had some retro charm to them. An older style of frame, thicker lenses. But you thought it added a quaintness to their look. Especially on Renjun, he just looked downright adorable in them.

You sat back down to watch with your head in your hand as his brown eyes blinked from behind the thick lenses, and he looked around your living room like a newborn woodland animal. His face had already relaxed, and he turned his focus down to his laptop screen next, messing with the brightness up, then down. After that, he took out his phone, doing the same with that device.

“Well?” You prompted him, though you truly would’ve been content with watching him look around as if he’d been born colorblind and it were his first time seeing in color. Which, you had an enchanted pair for that too, but he wasn’t colorblind to your knowledge.

The human looked at you, a giddy smile stretching across his face. “They’re perfect! Thanks, Y/N!”

His hand reached up to take them off, but you stopped him.

“Keep them—”

“No, these had to be so expensive!” He protested immediately.

“Just for a week or so,” you finished your sentence pointedly. He was cute, but not that cute. “Make sure you really like them before you buy, okay? If you end up hating them, give them back. If you like them and buy your own pair, you can give them back whenever yours arrive in the mail.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s not like I’m using them. Superior siren eyesight.” You tapped next to one of your eyes for emphasis.

“Thanks for not rubbing it in or anything.”

Scrambling to dial Renjun’s number, you put your phone on speaker as you fervently flicked through all of your Dr. Magic notes. You’d been laying in bed binging some mindless baking competition to numb your brain from all the studying you’d been doing when an email notification had popped up alerting you to a new Dr. Magic post.

“Y/N?” Renjun answered the phone, sounding utterly confused. “What’s—”

“New Dr. Magic post. I ran the IP and they’re in our city!” You blurted out.

“Okay… Well we already knew that, right?”

“Yeah, but this is an IP in our city that they posted from at midnight on a Saturday. Not any of the school computers.” You hit CTRL + F, typing in the string of numbers to quickly cross reference it with your extensive list. “This could be their IP. Like, their actual one, from a personal computer.”

“Oh, yeah. Could be.”

“Can you give me a little more enthusiasm here, Junnie? Did I wake you up or something? It’s only—” You stopped like you’d just walked face-first into a brick wall, eyes locked on the search result.

“Yeah, only quarter after midnight,” he scoffed.

You clicked the next arrow on the search bar, but that was the only match. 1/1 results.

“Y/N?” Renjun called for your attention. “You there?”

You hung up.

Not wanting to lose your nerve, you pressed the doorbell over and over insistently. You could hear the complaining tone of the occupant before his words were even audible.

“Christ, I have neighbors, you know?” Renjun swung open the door with a scowl. The human was in a big, slouching hoodie and pajama pants. His hair was stuck up in a couple different directions, making you think he might’ve just woken up. Except behind him, you could see that his kitchen light was on, and a couple books and his laptop were open on his kitchen table. Late night studying. And the fact that you’d just talked to him on the phone fifteen minutes ago.

“Can I come in?” You requested, fidgeting with the sleeve of your cardigan.

His face immediately softened. “Yeah, of course.”

“Sorry to just show up like this,” you said as you took off your shoes by the front door before following him further into his apartment.

“It’s okay.” He stopped you two in the kitchen, picking up a colorful, patterned cardboard box. “Uh, I was just about to make a midnight snack. Pizza bites, you want some?”

“I… don’t think I’ve ever had them.”

“Perfect, you can try one now then.”

“Mm,” you made a non-committal noise, leaning against his kitchen counter to watch him pour out the frozen food onto a baking sheet.

The oven beeped, and he put the tray in before pressing a couple more buttons.

“So, I was thinking about the Dr. Magic stuff. Not the IP stuff but like… What even is your plan for when you do find Dr. Magic?” Renjun asked as he put the remaining pizza bites in his freezer.

“What do you mean?”

He leaned against the countertop across from you, though in the narrow space of his kitchen, you were practically knee-to-knee. “Like, say we finally find out who they are, we run up to them in the library or on campus or something. Then what? What are you going to do? What are you going to say? You’ve done all this, and I know why you had to. I get it. But, do you know what you’re going to say to them?”

“Probably something along the lines of…” You trailed off, giving an exasperated sigh. Dropping your chin to your chest, you groaned, “Gods, I don’t know.”

“Hey, that’s why you got me. So you can bounce ideas off someone, do a dry run.”

“I thought the words would just come to me, and now that I’m trying, I can’t—”

“It’s fine, Y/N. Let’s think about why you did this. I know it’s really hard to put into words. I mean, I know why you did. I get it. It’s that need to know. Not because you can, but because you have to, right? It’s curiosity in its rawest form. So obviously it’s not going to be some schmaltzy ‘haha I caught you’ spiel or anything.”

Looking up from the kitchen tile to Renjun’s eager features, you shook your head in disbelief. “You’re still helping me… when I know it’s you, Junnie.”

He tilted his head to the side, a comical noise of confusion coming from his mouth, “Uh?”

“I know it’s you, and you know that I know that it’s you.”

“You already ruled me out, because I’m an arrogant—”

“Junnie, you made a post on the forums from your laptop. No VPN. When you knew I was still tracking Dr. Magic’s IP on every post they made, and that I had your IP. That’s not a whoopsie that you make unless you want to be caught.”

The human crossed his arms over his chest, but otherwise seemed entirely calm about being caught. “And you didn’t come in here guns blazing now that you’d caught me, either. Why?”

“I didn’t know how to say it. I mean, you’re right, I only did all this because I needed to know.”

“And now you know.”

“Why now? Why just give up now?” You asked with a shake of your head. “You started posting as Dr. Magic back in August, and I came to you in January. You knew everything I was doing; you could have cruised through the rest of the semester and I’d have never caught you.”

“You wanted to find out who it was by midterms. One less thing on your plate.”

“And now I know…”

“So how does it feel? Finally catching Dr. Magic?”

You wrinkled your nose and sighed, “Bit disappointing. I was right on my first guess.”

“And you immediately dismissed me out of hand for being an arrogant, neurotic overachiever on your first guess,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but I didn’t really know you then. If I’d known you then like I know you now, I would’ve known as soon as I saw the first post.”

Renjun batted his eyes teasingly. “Aww, Y/N…”

“Doctor underscore magic two, three, zero, three? Twenty-three, oh-three? That’s your birthday, Junnie,” you deadpanned.

“Right.”

Pushing off the counter to stand up straight again, you said, “Anyway, you did help me find Dr. Magic. So, my turn.”

“Oh, no, you seriously don’t have to do that. I rigged the deal—”

“Yeah, about that.” You took a step forward. “How did you think that was going to end up for you, anyway? Were you going to sell somebody else out as Dr. Magic and hope I wasn’t going to talk to them? Spit in your mouth first and ask questions later?”

“I was thinking on my feet.”

“Maybe think laying down next time, Junnie.”

“Ouch.”

“Anyway, come on, you’ll want to sit down for this.” You grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the living room.

“You don’t need to feel like you have to do this,” he reassured you.

Stopping the two of you in front of the couch, you turned to face him with a smirk. “Believe me when I say that it is going to be a treat unto itself for me to see you under the effects of siren venom. M’kay?”

Renjun’s surprise was evident on his face. “Oh.”

You stepped closer to him, delicately placing a hand on his chest. “Now unless you want me to literally spit in your mouth, I’m going to have to kiss you, to administer the venom.”

His eyes flicked between the hand you had on his chest and your face as he replied. “I’m okay with that—the kissing—if you are.”

“Renjun, I’ve been ready to eat you alive since you said the words ‘I want to experience siren venom for science’ to me.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. So why don’t you sit?” You guided him with the hand against his chest to sit back against his couch. Swinging one leg over his hips, then the other, you lowered yourself onto his lap. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, tentatively settling his hands on your thighs. “Is this okay?”

“More than.” You smiled, looping your arms around his neck. “Now, a couple things, before we get started.”

“We haven’t started?”

“You’ll know it when we do.”

“Right.”

“I know you think you know what siren venom is like, but whatever scientific articles you’ve read, or documentaries you’ve watched, or slides you’ve studied under microscopes in lab, cannot actually prepare you for what it’s like. Which, I imagine is why you want to experience it for yourself.” You smirked down at him as you watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down with a gulp. “So before I actually dose you up with it, I need you to tell me what you’re actually okay with doing and what you’re not. Because once you get my venom in you, you’re going to want to let me do anything and everything to you, up to and including kill you, remember?”

“Well that’s off the table.”

“Good to know,” you snorted, running a fingernail down the nape of his neck. You felt a shudder go through him. “Is this okay?”

“Y-Yeah.” He seemed to be fighting to keep his eyes open. You halted your motions to let him think, and watched in amusement as he blinked his mind clear.

Once enough time had passed, you prompted him, “So?”

“I think just kissing,” Renjun answered. “Like, making out, or whatever. If you want…”

You snickered. “What part of ‘eat you alive’ was I unclear about?”

“The ‘eat’ part, actually. How literal is that?”

“Guess you’ll find out,” you teased. Then, you focused again as you sat back a little. “Okay, making out. Making out means different things to different people. So… we know kissing’s on the table. Tongue?”

“Yeah.”

“Teeth?”

“Where?”

“Waist up. You got somewhere you don’t want them?”

He took a moment to think about this. Then shook his head. “No. You can use them. Anywhere.”

“Same goes for you. Hickies?”

“Giving or receiving?”

“Both. You first.”

“Both are okay. You?”

You were already zeroing in on his neck and a small part of his collarbone peeking out from under his hoodie. “Same. Touching over clothes?”

“Okay, as long as you don’t think it’ll be too much with the venom…”

“Oh, Junnie, everything is going to be too much.” You grinned down at him.

His breathing had picked up pace as the two of you were talking. “You? The touching?”

“Good. Great. Touching under clothes?”

Renjun squirmed underneath you, but maintained your eye contact. “Just under my shirt.”

“Smart boy,” you said approvingly. “Me too.”

“Is that it?” He asked quietly, eyes now flicking down to your lips.

“I think so…” You looked around the room to buy a couple extra seconds of thinking time. When you hadn’t come up with anything else, you looked down at the human below you once more. “Ready, Renjun?”

“Yes.”

You took one final look over him like this, how much he already wanted you before he’d even gotten any of your venom in him, and dragged the tip of your tongue over your bottom lip instinctually. His heartrate jumped, and you wondered if it was fear—if the motion had reminded him perhaps of a hungry predator—or need. Or maybe a bit of both.

But you couldn’t tease him nor yourself any longer, swooping down to connect your mouths. You started off with just a couple light, closed-mouth kisses, to ease him into it. You heard him inhale quickly through his nose, his grip on your thighs tightening minutely. Swiping your tongue across the seal of his lips, you were delighted when he immediately parted his mouth in response, his tongue seeking yours out. You hummed contentedly into his mouth as you started stroking a fingernail down the back of his neck again. At the same time, your venom was beginning to mix in with your saliva, being passed onto Renjun.

Once his jaw started going slack in the kiss, and his hands slowly slid off your legs entirely to rest lamely at his side, you deemed him plenty dosed up. Consciously, you blocked off your venom glands once more. When one particularly drawn-out scratch down the back of his neck finally elicited a noise from him, an involuntary whine, you felt something in you snap. You needed more of that.

“So this is what siren venom feels like…” He mumbled breathily, letting his head loll back against the couch cushion as you kissed a path down his jawline and neck. When you felt his breath hitch in his throat over one particular spot, you decided to take your time there, sucking and nipping a mark into his skin.

When humans were… locked in a lover’s embrace, they let off a certain perfume distinguishable only to sirens—which was what made them the favored prey of sirens for so long. A human under the influence of siren venom? Delectable. And every human’s was unique too, so Renjun under the influence of your venom? Absolutely addictive.

With each kiss you stole from his lips, every nip you left on his neck that you then soothed over with your tongue, you got another taste of it. A sweetness that came with a bite, like ginger candy.

Renjun was still talking, though, his vocal cords vibrating under your lips. “My-My heart’s beating so fast, and I’m so warm—that’s so the ocean water doesn’t feel cold, of course—”

“Would you shut up?” You sat back up, grabbing him by the hair.

“Why?”

“I’m trying to kiss you again, idiot.”

“Oh. Right.” He closed his mouth, looking up at you with glassy eyes, waiting. Gods, he was so pretty like this.

You crashed your lips back on his, a mess of teeth and lips and tongue as he tried to keep up with you. But you knew that your venom was in full effect now, every single one of his nerve endings was approximately three and half times more sensitive. So you were sure it was all a little overwhelming. But he was definitely trying his best, kissing sloppily into your mouth with hungry, desperate whines.

Pulling him back off with your grip in his hair, you traced a thumb over his kiss-swollen bottom lip, cooing over how fucked-out he looked like this. “Oh, baby. Oh, poor Junnie. What’s wrong? Can’t even kiss me properly because it feels too good? Baby’s overwhelmed with just a little bit of kissing?”

He opened his mouth wider, darting the tip of his tongue out to brush against the pad of your thumb. You pushed the finger in his mouth, groaning as he immediately closed his lips around it. “Gods, you’re perfect, Junnie.”

Taking your thumb back out of his mouth just to grab his chin with the same wet digit, you attacked his lips with yours again. Ginger candy. His hands that had been lamely resting at his sides the entire time now fumbled at something in the area where your hips met.

“What? What are you trying to do, baby?” You asked, leaning back to look down. He was grabbing at the hem of his hoodie, unsuccessfully yanking it up towards his head as part of it was stuck under one of your thighs.

“‘m too hot. Please…” He panted, dropping it as he looked up at you pleadingly.

You nodded slowly in understanding, knowing that one of the effects of the siren venom was an increase in body temperature, not to mention what you two were just doing. The collar of another shirt was visible underneath the sweatshirt. “Okay, Junnie, we can take your hoodie off. But only the hoodie. Your other clothes are staying on, understood?”

He nodded quickly, hips bucking up against you. Sweat was beading up on his forehead, his hair getting stuck to the damp skin. You shifted back on his lap so that none of the sweatshirt was under you anymore, grabbing the hem and reaching behind him to yank up from underneath him as well.

“Sit forward for me, baby?” You requested in his ear sweetly.

Renjun obliged as best he could, leaning forward to get his back and shoulders off the couch. You pulled the hoodie up over his head, tossing it off to the side, leaving him in a black t-shirt that certainly couldn’t be helping much either. But having that heavy layer off seemed to provide some relief for him, as he let out a sigh, falling back against the furniture again.

You giggled as you settled back into the crux of his lap again, lacing your fingers together behind his neck. “Is that better now, Junnie?”

He shook his head, and you arched an eyebrow curiously.

“Oh? What’s wrong, then?”

Renjun tugged gently at your cardigan where it had shrugged down to show one of your shoulders. “Please?”

Pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth, you thought this over. You had a tank top on under the cardigan, and both of you were still wearing everything else. Not to mention that you were starting to get a bit warm too. Sirens ran naturally cooler than humans, so you were sure that to him, you felt practically refreshing right now, but you honestly were a bit hot for a siren’s tastes.

Giving a contemplative hum first, you finally relented, “Alright, Junnie. But just my sweater. Everything else stays on, because we didn’t talk about that before the venom, do you understand?”

He rushed to strip you of the knit cardigan, his mouth following his hands’ path down your skin. First on your shoulder, then down your arm. You let the garment drop on the floor behind you as he kissed back up along your shoulder, then over the fabric of your tank top until he got to your collarbone, and finally the hollow of your throat. Fondly stroking the back of his head, the pleased purr that had started in your chest turned into a surprised moan when he licked a long stripe up your throat.

Holding his face in your hands so that your noses brushed, and your lips barely ghosted over each other, you let your breaths mingle in the meager space afforded. Renjun ended your little anticipation game quickly, kissing you tongue-first, and you kissed him back just as eagerly, sucking on his tongue with lewd, wet noises. He moaned into your mouth, his hands grabbing at your waist for purchase first, then slipping and curling into the material of your shirt, bunching it in his fists.

Slowing the pace of your kisses, you eventually sat back, appraising the state he was in. You affectionately ran a hand through his hair as you took in his blown pupils, kiss-swollen lips, and pink cheeks. “Junnie? How are you feeling? Need a break?”

You hadn’t given him another dose of venom since the initial one, which wasn’t very large to begin with. But this was his first time experiencing it, so you wanted to check in. He should be just past the peak of it by now, starting to come down but for all intents and purposes still very much intoxicated. Siren venom wasn’t meant to last very long, after all, it took an adult human less than a minute to drown.

“Need you…” He insisted, arching up towards you.

Indulging him in one, two more feverish kisses, you pulled away once again. “I know, baby. And you’ve been doing so good for me. So I need you to tell me if you need a break. Okay?”

“’kay.” He agreed before you sealed your mouth over his again.

Kissing down from his mouth to just under his jaw, at the same time you trailed a finger down the center of his front until it got to the hem of his t-shirt.

He nodded fervently before you could say or do anything more. “Please… please…”

“Shh, shh, shh,” you quieted him down gently. “Doing so good for me, Junnie. The best.”

You slipped your hands under his shirt, just to stroke his waist. His muscles tensed under your touch, and he let out a sound of satisfaction. He grabbed at your thighs again, but you couldn’t tell if it was an attempt at reciprocity or to have something sturdier to ground himself to than your flimsy tank top. The corner of your lips quirked up as you pressed a couple more kisses down his neck to hover your lips over his pulse point, content to start a new mark there as your hands continued to explore under his shirt. It was when you gently raked your nails down over his pecs that you got the loudest moan out of him yet, and you groaned in response.

“Gods, you’re perfect,” you nuzzled your nose into Renjun’s neck, then pressed a couple relatively chaste pecks to his cheek. “Just perfect…”

Taking your hands back out from his shirt, you silenced his whine at the loss of contact by slotting your lips together once more. You cupped his face with one hand, using the other to take one of his hands off your leg and lace them together, palm to palm. This seemed to make him content once more, especially when you brought your connected hands up to the back of the couch, pinning his behind his head. He squirmed under you, letting out a familiar noise of pleasure into your mouth and squeezing your hand tightly.

You knew the venom was well and truly starting to wear off when Renjun began keeping pace with your slow, lazy kisses, his mouth not as sloppy but no less delightful as it moved in tandem with yours. The thumb of the remaining hand on your thigh started to stroke over your skin, and the hand that you were holding gave yours a gentle squeeze. You gave him one, two last lingering kisses, drinking in the dwindling taste of ginger candy while you could, Renjun matching you beat for beat.

Unlacing your fingers and dropping your hand from his face, you drew back from him. Before you could say anything, though, Renjun grabbed you by the back of the neck and pulled you in for one more kiss, sinking his teeth into your already tender, over-kissed bottom lip. You gasped into his mouth, which gave him the perfect opportunity to intertwine his tongue with yours again on his apparent mission to try to kiss the breath from you. A nigh impossible task for a human to do to a siren, but it definitely felt like he was succeeding. He was crushing his lips against yours so hard you were worried about him drawing blood—not because you would mind the pain, but for fear of his safety if he got a direct hit of your blood in his mouth.

In the back of your mind, you were desperately trying to remember if you had maybe accidentally opened your venom glands a second time later on, but just drew a blank. That wasn’t something you did unaware, it wasn’t automatic, it had to be done on purpose. Then, for a brief moment, you were worried about secondary wave syndrome—some humans break down siren venom in two phases instead of one, and the second one almost always kills them if they’re not brought to a human medical doctor for treatment—and you started running through the symptoms as well as the nearest human emergency rooms in your mind. Burst capillaries in the eyes, refusal of food and water, the hospital three blocks over should have an ER, right? But the kiss didn’t feel like when he’d been intoxicated on your venom before, this one felt deliberate, in control. He was in control. You let out a small moan at the thought, and Renjun’s lone hand on your thigh tightened in response.

Once he finally let you go, you both sat there in silence for a good few seconds, you still on his lap. You stared extra hard at the whites of his eyes. They looked normal. He seemed… normal.

It was rare for either of you to be speechless, much less the both of you.

“Well…” you broke the silence. “That was siren venom. You should drink some water. Stay right here, I’ll get it.”

You climbed off of him, heading into his kitchen. Looking at the oven, you were wondering how the timer hadn’t gone off in that entire time when you saw that it wasn’t on. The words ‘TIMER SET?’ were flashing on the screen at you, and the preheat hadn’t been started either. The pizza rolls had just been slowly defrosting on a pan in the cold oven. You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching into his fridge for his Brita filter then securing a couple cups from the cabinets.

Walking back into the living room, you handed the human his cup of water and remained standing as you took a sip of yours.

“You didn’t start the oven, for your pizza rolls,” you informed him quietly.

“Wh— oh, shit,” Renjun groaned, tipping his head back. “I guess I don’t get to give you your first pizza roll tonight.”

“That’s okay.” You dropped onto the couch next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

“So… that was siren venom,” he breathed out, then took a long gulp of his water. Definitely not second wave syndrome.

“That was siren venom,” you confirmed with a laugh, fondly brushing a piece of sweaty hair off his forehead.

“You were right… I was not prepared,” he admitted with a laugh, taking another drink.

“So do you think you would’ve let me kill you?”

“Yeah. I would’ve given you my credit card info, bank password, spilled all of my friends’ worst secrets, let you kill me, killed someone else if you asked me. God, that was…” He said with wide eyes, shaking his head. But there was a familiar glint in his eye as a smile cracked across his face, “Incredible.”

“Glad you think so,” you giggled, patting his chest. “Now don’t become a venom junkie, okay? I couldn’t live with myself if you did and it was my fault.”

“I won’t. Not really what I meant anyway.”

You grinned slyly at what he seemed to be implying, that it might not have just been the siren venom, but that it was you and your venom that made it so incredible. Like how every human had a slightly different essence, every siren had a unique chemical signature in their venom. It’s why using it non-consensually nowadays would be extremely stupid (as well as just an immoral thing to do and also a crime)—it can be matched to the siren in a lab like DNA. In addition, anecdotally, every siren’s venom was said to produce a slightly different high, but no mass studies had backed that up. You were inclined to believe the stories, though.

Renjun was still a bit hazy, though, still riding the high of the venom, so you decided to tuck a conversation like that away for another time.

“So why did you pick Magical Creatures Studies? Other than you’re insane?” You redirected the topic to a more neutral one.

Renjun didn’t seem put off at all about this jump. “When I was a kid, my family traveled around a bunch, for my dad’s job. I got to meet a lot of different kinds of beings, some of them became my best friends, and I never wanted to stop learning about it all.”

“What does your dad do?”

“Government job,” he answered, suddenly interested in picking at his nails.

You furrowed your brow thoughtfully. “Wait a minute… Huang Renjun. As in, your father is Ambassador Huang? That we’ve had to write papers on in class?”

Ambassador Huang was the first human ambassador sent on diplomacy trips to outside nations of magical creatures post-integration. His trips had largely been considered a monumental success, and credited as a big driver behind the huge uptick of immigration that your city has been seeing from outlying areas in the past couple decades. You’d hardly gotten through a single contemporary MCS class without directly learning about him or at least hearing his name. And you’d apparently been going to school with his son for four years and just pumped said son full of your venom and made out with him while he was high on your venom.

“Yeah…”

“Dude! What the hell? You didn’t think to mention that at some point?” You asked incredulously.

“And sound like some uppity nepo kid bragging about my dad? No thanks,” Renjun snorted.

“Yeah, maybe not like day one but like… I don’t know, before I used my venom on you!” You nudged his arm teasingly.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I just venom-ed Ambassador Huang’s son!”

“Oh my God, could you not call me that?” He snapped at you. “This is why I don’t tell people! Because now I don’t have a name anymore, I’m just Ambassador Huang’s son.”

You immediately realized your mistake, your stomach dropping as you heard the hurt in his words. “Renjun, I’m—”

“Just go.” He demanded, standing up from the couch and putting distance between you two again. “We both got what we wanted, right? You found out who Dr. Magic was, and I experienced siren venom. That’s all this was, so you can go. You don’t owe me anything else.”

You clenched your jaw, setting your cup on the end table beside the couch. Picking up your cardigan from the floor with as much dignity as you could, you pulled it back on. Neither of you said another word as he watched you stalk over to the front door, shove your shoes back on, throw the door open, and slam it closed behind you.

Drumming your fingertips along your keyboard, you squinted at the flashcards on your screen. You were in a sour mood, which had persisted ever since you’d left Renjun’s last night feeling used.

Ten was next to you at your picnic table outside the student union, finishing up a pencil portrait sketch of one of his other friends—one of the CompSci majors you’d paid to write your browser extension, actually. Dejun, a dragon, whose slit pupils, many bejeweled earrings, and a singular fang poking out from under his top lip featured prominently in the portrait. The sketch was part of Ten’s midterm portfolio check-in for one of his classes. Midterms were literally this week. Like, right now. You forced your sharp teeth further into the wooden pencil in your mouth.

“You’re going to ruin your cuspids like that, Y/N,” Ten chastised you calmly, rubbing at a line with the pad of his ring finger to smudge it before flipping his own non-mangled pencil around and continuing to sketch with the graphite.

“I’ll grow another set,” you grumbled, but took the writing utensil out of your mouth nevertheless.

“And have no teeth in the meantime. Real sexy siren stuff. Sure to lure all the hotties to their deaths looking like GamGam missing her dentures.”

“Shut up!” You shoved his head away, earning a loud peal of laughter from your friend. “As if you’ve been pulling anybody yourself. You’re literally a siren art major covered in tattoos that he designed himself, more piercings than a dragon, including nipple rings, and you haven’t been on a date in… what, almost a year?”

“So we’re both disappointments to the good siren name, huh?” He held up his hands in surrender, still grinning. “Just a couple of poor, celibate sirens doomed to be disgraces to their species forever…”

“Can you not yell that to the entire courtyard, dude?”

“What? Not announce very loudly that you haven’t been with anybody in exactly four—”

You lunged to cover his mouth before he could publicize precisely how long it’s been since you’d hooked up with someone. Ten immediately broke down into laughs behind your hand that was covering his mouth, his shoulders shaking even as you smacked him on the back of the head with your other hand.

“Gods, what is wrong with you?” You hissed at him. “You’re a menace to society. And me.”

When you’d finally let go of his face, he said through a couple more chuckles, “Hey, you could easily do it back to me.”

“Why would I want to do that? And the fact that you’re suggesting it makes me think that you want me to do that, which makes me want to do it even less. You freak.”

Before your podmate could respond, you caught sight of a figure approaching your table head-on. Setting your jaw, your body immediately tensed. There was no mistake, Huang Renjun was walking straight towards you. Ten seemed to have noticed the shift in your body language and mood, as he didn’t say anything further, quietly going back to his sketchbook as you watched Renjun get nearer and nearer.

“Y/N,” he said your name quietly, stopping not quite at the end of the table beside you, but next to the end of the bench across from you.

“What do you want from me now, Renjun?” You replied bitterly, pretending to return your hands to your keyboard as if you were going to refocus on your studies.

“Uhm, to talk, I guess?”

Ten interjected, “Do you guys need a second? I can go—”

You held him in place with a hand around his wrist, your voice curt, “No, Ten. Stay. This will be short.”

Your friend lowered himself back down into his seat.

You then set your hard gaze on Renjun. The marks you had left on his neck were still visible above the collar of his t-shirt. Moving your eyes from that to his face, you cocked your head to the side. “What’s in it for me? You established that our relationship is purely transactional, remember? We apparently just use each other. You scratch my back, I spit in your mouth, quid pro quo.”

“Okay, I’m going now,” Ten declared, wrenching his arm from your grasp to grab his sketchbook, pencils, and backpack before taking off.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I don’t see you like that at all, I just... I got defensive and snapped. It’s not an excuse, but still, I want you to know that I don’t mean anything I said. I’m sorry.” Renjun shifted uncomfortably on his feet, but you could see the genuine remorse on his features.

You breathed in, then out.

“I’m sorry too,” you sighed, letting your voice relax back to the natural softness that it held around Renjun. “You’re your own person, aside from just ‘Ambassador Huang’s son.’ I’m sorry for treating you like anything other than Renjun.”

“It’s not that I’m not super proud to be his son or anything, I think he’s really awesome. He was my hero growing up; still is. I mean, I’m going into the same field as him. Kind of. You know? It’s just because we’re going to be doing the same kind of thing, I want to be able to be looked at for what I do. Good or bad.”

“Bad? You plan on using your degree for evil, Renjun?” You teased, scooting over on the bench seat to take Ten’s previous spot and freeing up a place for Renjun to scoot in beside you.

“I could,” he played along, gladly taking the seat offered.

The two of you made eye contact, then burst into laughter at the same time.

“What?” He questioned in mock offense. “I think I’d make a great evil dictator, personally. You don’t think so?”

“Not at all, you’d be great at it.”

“Thank you. My friends don’t take my threats so seriously.”

“Which will ultimately be their downfall.”

Renjun looked back out at the campus in front of you two, his voice turning serious again, “But, seriously, I mean, I don’t want people having all these lofty expectations for me and then be disappointed when I don’t change the whole world, nor do I want them making things easy for me because they know my dad.”

“That’s fair. Unattainable, but fair to wish for,” you nodded in understanding.

“Ugh...” He slumped forward, dropping his head into his arms atop the table.

“Look, Renjun…” You rested one hand on his arm as the other rubbed up and down his back supportively. “You can’t change who your dad is, and you said it yourself, it’s not like you’re ashamed of him either. So don’t brag, and don’t be a dick when somebody brings him up either. Just do your best to show people who Huang Renjun is. And if they still don’t get it, that’s their loss. Because I already know him, and I think he’s pretty cool.”

Renjun sat back up to look you in the face with a skeptical eyebrow raised. “You’re such a cheeseball. Aren’t sirens supposed to be alluring and enchanting?”

“Shut up! I will drown you! See how alluring I am when you’re under a siren call,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’m kidding.” He grinned at you, nudging your shoulder with his. “That really did make me feel better, thank you, Y/N.”

You smiled back. “You’re welcome, Renjun.”

The two of you kept smiling at each other for a moment before he broke the eye contact, looking down at his hands then shifting his gaze back to the courtyard.

“Uhm, while we’re airing stuff out about last night...” He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Yeah, Junnie?” You tilted your head to the side, watching as his cheeks started flushing.

“I don’t think I ever said thank you. I kind of popped off on you right after... everything. But thank you, for taking care of me before, during, and after. It didn’t even occur to me to talk about what we could and couldn’t do beforehand. Thank you for that, and for getting me the water. And... all of it in between...” His ears were bright red too at this point, but he managed to look you in the eye as he gave you his genuine gratitude.

You nodded in understanding. “You’re welcome. I’m glad that you felt cared for during all of it. In addition to, you know, everything else you felt.”

“Mm, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Studying his face curiously, you said, “You look like you want to ask me something else.”

“Well, I feel like you still weren’t very clear on the ‘eat me alive’ thing.”

You rolled your eyes. “Gods, Junnie, I’m not going to actually eat you—”

“I mean...” Renjun took a deep breath. “I kind of always feel like I’ve got a little bit of siren venom in me when I’m around you, Y/N. My heart races, and my skin is warm, and everything is just better when I’m with you. I want to see you when you’re not around, and when things are hard for you, I want to make everything better. I like you, and between the Dr. Magic deal, and our stupid academic rivalry, and what we did last night, I don’t know what I am to you, but that’s how I feel.”

If someone had told freshman you that Huang Renjun would ever say words like that to you, you’d have laughed in their face to the point of tears— or slapped them. And yet, in that moment, you weren’t surprised in the slightest. It was the most natural, beautiful, delightful, perfect thing that could’ve happened. Just like you leaning over to give him a modest, near-demure kiss on the cheek, absolutely beaming at him as you pulled back.

“I like you too, Renjun,” you admitted.

His eyes went wide before a broad, tender smile spread across his features and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He let out a drawn-out sigh of relief, “Ohh, that’s one weight off my chest for this week.”

You laughed in agreement. “Me too. Actually makes everything feel lighter.”

“Yeah, it does,” he said, squeezing your shoulder. “So how much do I owe you?”

“What?”

“You said you were going to invoice Dr. Magic. For the browser extension, and the color copies, and whatever else. How much do I owe you?”

You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to think before a smirk pulled across your lips. “Mm, should be exactly the price of one nice dinner and a movie.”

“Dinner and a movie? Just how many copies were you making?” He asked with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

“A nice dinner,” you reiterated. “I paid those CompSci majors fairly for their time.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Friday night after your last midterm, you were knocking on Huang Renjun’s door. The two of you had seen each other this week for your Linguistics in MCS class, but had been utterly locked into academic mode and hadn’t met up aside from that. So, per his invite, you were here in your “midterms best”— i.e., the pajamas you had been wearing at your own apartment since submitting your last mid-semester draft earlier today. You’d been told this wasn’t going to be a fancy affair.

Judging by the pajamas that Renjun had also answered the door wearing—giving you vivid déjà vu to the last time you were here—you were dressed appropriately for the occasion. He led you in by the hand, informing you there was something he wanted to show you in the kitchen.

You came to a stop in front of a plate piled high with small, pillow-shaped pieces of dough, some with bursts of red sauce leaking out of them. You couldn’t help but let out a sputtering laugh. “Pizza rolls? Did midterms scramble the egg on your face so bad that you missed the part where I said nice dinner?”

You might not have ever eaten pizza rolls, but you knew what section of the grocery store they came from.

“I can’t even tell what that was supposed to be… You’re so beautiful…” He was staring at you with a look of pure adoration, and surprised you by giving you a fleeting peck on the cheek, gone as soon as you’d realized what he was doing. Your hand instinctually came up to brush at your skin, almost in disbelief, as he went back to explaining his plans for tonight. “Anyway, I didn’t get to give you your first pizza roll the other night, and I figured that the last thing you actually wanted right after midterms week was to go out to some hoity toity place and be out at the movie theater really late, right? So, I’ve got pizza rolls, peanut butter cookies, your seaweed tea, and like way more snacks and candy and stuff. So we can chill and watch whatever movies you want tonight, unwind from midterms. And then next weekend, we’ll do your nice dinner and go to the movie theater. Think of it as an IOU.”

A fond smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you nodded your approval. “Mmm… you’re right. This is great, Junnie. Thank you.”

Set up on Renjun’s couch with the assortment of snacks—pizza rolls included—and your first movie chosen, you settled in next to him, knee to knee, under the same blanket as the two of you ate. You decided that pizza rolls weren’t that bad (you still liked peanut butter sandwich cookies better), convinced Renjun to try some of your ocean flakes again—a favorite snack of sirens, which he’d already tasted on one occasion at a Dr. Magic hunting session and hated—to similar results, and finished off a bottle of seaweed-infused tea by the time the first movie was about a third of the way done. At this point, you were pretty satiated food-wise, and set your empty drink bottle on the coffee table to sit back on the couch.

Linking your arm with Renjun’s, you rested your head on his shoulder as he was still finishing up his plate of pizza rolls. “That was good, Renjun. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I call dibs on little spoon first, by the way.”

“Damn.”

Once he was done eating as well, you laid down to eagerly take your promised place as little spoon. Renjun stayed partially propped up against the arm of the couch so he could see the TV as you were nestled back against his chest, one of his arms slung over your waist. Your fingers played with his under the blanket absentmindedly as you got used to your new place, with him, in his arms.

“Renjun?” You said into the quiet. The only noises were coming from the TV. The movie was nearly done, just a couple little resolving scenes after the climax left. You’d seen it plenty of times before—both of you had, it was a favorite that you’d discovered you two shared earlier in the semester—which was why you’d picked it, an easy watch that you both liked. But nothing that required your full attention, so you could talk or miss scenes if you wanted.

“Yeah?” He responded just as softly.

“This is really nice. Hanging out, just us. No school, no Dr. Magic.”

“I know. Almost doesn’t feel real.”

“What? That we’re hanging out without trying to kill each other?”

He let out a couple laughs, catching your hand that had been playing with his under the blanket and lacing your fingers together. “I think there’s definitely some people that would be shocked to see us right now. But I meant more-so that we don’t have any schoolwork to do right now, and that the whole Dr. Magic thing is finally over. Other than the dinner that I owe you.”

“Oh… I owe you… I-O-U…” you sounded the words and letters out slowly. “I get it now.”

“God, you’re perfect,” he sighed dreamily, brushing your hair away from your face to press two kisses to your temple in quick succession.

You turned over to face him to properly protest, “Hey, I didn’t grow up around humans, you know that, right? I just came here to go to school! I moved here like, two weeks before our first day of freshman year—”

“I’m not making fun of you, Y/N!” He promised, sandwiching your hand between both of his and squeezing it tightly. “I respect how difficult it must have been for you to acclimate to the new culture and city when you moved, and so suddenly, on top of starting school. I just love y- love when you do that. Genuinely, I’m so charmed by it. Endeared. Bewitched. Whatever word you want to use. It’s something I never noticed until this semester, when we started doing the Dr. Magic stuff together. Despite knowing you for so long, in the department, in classes.”

“You know what I never knew about you before this semester, Junnie?”

“What?”

“That you were such a softie,” you snickered fondly. “I thought you were all textbooks and GPA and flashcards and whatever.”

The human ducked his head bashfully. “It’s something I’ve been working on this year.”

“Between this and Dr. Magic, I think you’ve been doing pretty well.”

“Thanks.”

“So, why did you do it, Junnie?” You asked curiously. “Not be a softie, I mean, but…”

“What? Be Dr. Magic?” He clarified, to which you nodded. “I didn’t mean to make a persona like that, really. I had to pick a screenname, and the guys had jokingly called me that a couple times when I helped them out with some problems. That’s all.”

“I know why you started the account. Knowledge. That’s also why you didn’t get the credit. You just needed to know. Though, the story behind the name is cute,” you pinched his cheek, and he tried to deter your hand with his shoulder half-heartedly. “I mean more like, why were you hiding your IP and using VPNs and stuff before you even knew that I was trying to track you down? In the fall.”

“I made the first couple posts from the school computers just because I like to do my work there, I wasn’t trying to cover anything up. Then I pictured what I’d do if I found someone posting like I was on the forums. And I would’ve tried to find out who they were. So I started covering my tracks a bit more intentionally after that. Didn’t want any groupies rolling up on me.” He pinched your side teasingly with the last sentence, and you slapped his hand away with an eye roll.

“Oh shut up!” You scoffed, ignoring his hands as he tried to pull you back towards him again.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding, I’m sorry,” he apologized through his chuckles. “If anything I’m your groupie, I swear. Your number one fan from the moment you showed me your conspiracy board.”

“Mm, fine.” You scooted closer to him, letting him wrap his arms around you once more. “Glad we got that cleared up.”

Renjun shifted to lay on his back, and you easily followed the move to snuggle in mostly on top of him, resting your head in the crook of his neck and your hand on his waist, fingers innocently smoothing over a patch of skin above his hipbone where his shirt had ridden up. It sounded like the credits were on by now, but you didn’t really care about picking another movie as Renjun hummed along to the familiar song that played over the scrolling names. You’d sing along too, if you were alone at your own place. But now you didn’t dare even hum like the human with you for fear of what it could do to him. Renjun’s voice was plenty lovely enough though, even just this casual little bit humming. You’d see if you could get him to sing for you properly one of these days. If an opportunity came before graduation. Who knew what your days would even look like before then.

Gods, graduation. You felt like you could shrivel up and die just thinking about it. Not to mention that you hadn’t even told Renjun that you’d—

“Hey. What are you thinking about?” He suddenly asked, his disapproving tone clear.

You gulped. “How could you tell I was thinking about something?”

“For one, you’ve got your bad thinking face on.” He pinched your bottom lip. “You pout. It’s very dramatic. You look very concerned.”

“I have different thinking faces?”

“Yeah, you look different when you’re studying. I’ve seen you do plenty of that to know the difference. And you’ve got a third face when you’re contemplating. Usually you do that one when you’re looking at menus.”

“I didn’t know I was apparently an open book.” You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.

“It’s cute, Y/N. You’ve got a cute face, and you make cute facial expressions with it, don’t cover it up.” He gingerly grabbed your hands to encourage you to take them off. “Except I am worried about what’s making you make your bad thinking face right now. What’s wrong?”

With a sigh, you pushed up into a sitting position. Renjun followed your lead curiously, a thoughtful frown on his own features as he watched you pull your knees to your chest.

“Renjun, I need to tell you something.”

He regarded you with a skeptical eyebrow raised. “Okay… go for it.”

Nervously, you smoothed out some wrinkles in your pajama pants as you confessed, “Uhm, Dr. Kwon asked me to carry the banner at commencement. I said yes.”

“I knew that.”

“What?” You looked up at him in disbelief.

“Well, since it was midterms already, I figured that if they’d picked me, they would have asked me by now and since they hadn’t, then they must have picked you. I was just waiting for you to tell me so I could tell you… Congrats.” Renjun grinned brightly at you, reaching out to rest his hand on your arm.

“You’re not upset?” You asked trepidly.

“We’re not petty little freshmen anymore, Y/N. No, I’m not upset. I’m proud of you, you deserve it.”

“So did you.”

“Not any more than you did.” He shook his head firmly. “So would you just accept my congrats already?”

You gave a small, shaky smile. “Thank you…”

“There we go.”

“This is what I was so freaked about… when we went to get froyo.”

“You were afraid of me being mad at you for being picked to carry the banner?” Renjun asked incredulously.

“I didn’t know how to tell you!” You defended yourself. “And now I have to do the commencement practices, on top of senior capstone and my extracurriculars…”

He wrinkled his nose. “Ew, commencement practices. So glad I didn’t get picked now, actually.”

“And that was so convincing, Junnie.”

“You remember what you said to me when we got froyo?”

Scrunching your face up, you struggled to think back to the exact conversation you had that day—you’d been really stressed. “Uh, ‘exactly two gummy sharks on mine please?’”

“Well, yeah, your hyper-specific froyo order—”

“Throwing stones at black kettles much?” You teased.

“Excuse me?” Renjun’s eyes went wide.

“Is that not—? I really thought I got it that time.”

“Did you mean to say ‘throwing stones in glass houses’ and/or ‘the pot calling the kettle black?’”

“…Yes.”

He turned very serious as he went to tenderly cradle your face in his hands. “I’m going to kiss you in like two seconds after I finish what I was saying, okay?”

“Oh, okay,” you agreed weakly, wishing very much that he’d just do it now instead of making you wait. He then let your face go.

“When we were talking about wanting people to know that we’re smart,” Renjun clarified. “You said that we’re both like that, and you knew that you were like that. And then you asked me if I knew that I was like that. I had tried to swear up and down this entire time that I was doing all of this—the needing to be the best—for myself. But it wasn’t. I’m like that too. That’s kind of what Dr. Magic was, me taking a step back from needing everyone to know I was the smartest person in the room. A quasi-experiment, to see if I could do it.”

“I think that after graduation, maybe we both chill on being the smartest person in the room, and try to just spend a summer working on that magical bucket list of yours?” You suggested.

“Oh?” He perked up at this. “Really?”

“You ever seen a werewolf shift?”

“No…”

“That sounds like a ‘not yet’ to me.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He confirmed with a conspiratorial grin that mirrored the one that you could feel across your own face. “You know how sirens can’t get dosed up on their own venom?”

“Yeah…” You nodded, wondering where he could be going with this.

“Well, I know a witch with a proprietary love potion blend that I think we might be able to modify to produce similar effects.”

“Fascinating.” You thought on this for a second, very quickly running through your knowledge of potion properties to imagine what it could be. “Two-factor blood potion?”

“Yes. But we’d put your venom in it instead of your blood so it wouldn’t kill me.”

“That could work…” You mused. “Speaking of, I should really give you a full dose one of these days.”

He breathed in sharply. “That wasn’t a full dose?”

“Nope.”

“Holy shit…”

“Have you ever watched a phoenix reincarnation?” You added another suggestion to your joint summer bucket list.

“Have you? Wouldn’t that literally blind us?” Renjun questioned, something akin to genuine concern on his face now.

You shrugged. “Allegedly. It’s never been recorded in a lab setting, so who really knows.”

“I think we’re going to get each other killed before we can get our PhDs,” he declared with a fond smile and shake of his head.

“Hey, the betting pools said we’d kill each other by junior year, so I think we’re doing well for ourselves.”

“Do you think we can collect on those bets when we graduate and we’re both still alive and have all of our limbs?”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get there.”

“Oh my god, come here,” Renjun groaned deliriously, kneeling to grab your face with two hands and crash his lips to yours. You curled your fingers in the front of his shirt, pulling him down with you as you fell back against the arm of his couch, still connected.

Yeah, you’d drive off that burning bridge when you got there.

⤷ blog masterlist ⤷ anthology masterlist

#renjun #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #renjun x reader #huang renjun #nct dream imagine #renjun imagine #nct imagine #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #renjun fluff #i: renjun #f: dr_magic2303 #au: strawberry sunday #*100 #*200 #*300

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usedtobecooler · 2 years ago

Text

if it's not with you | tom grant x fem!reader

Pairing | Tom Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content 18+ minors dni, unprotected piv sex, vaginal fingering, general banter, flirting, all around fluffiness.

Word Count | 5k

A/N | eeeee i'm so excited to share this fic with you all!! honestly i've fallen in love with tom all over again writing this, i hope you all enjoy this flirty fluffy cuteness!!

This caravan park was easily the worst place you’d ever been on holiday to. You couldn’t even lie to yourself — the entertainment area was outdated, the food was far from good, the staff were mostly rude and unhelpful, and the caravan you’d rented for the week was the biggest piece of shit.

Your idea of a nice, relaxing beachside break from the city was basically down the pan the moment you arrived, though you had to admit the one saving grace was in fact the gorgeous beach, barely thirty steps away from your rental, all golden sand and crashing waves. It was peaceful, quiet — the school summer holidays were over so it only left the caravan owners and the odd few stragglers without kids behind.

Summer was barely clinging on, the nights were beginning to close in fast and the air was feeling that bit crisper once the sun set, like it had done every Summer since you could remember. There was still the odd humid, hot day, and this was one of them.

Muggy beyond belief, despite the cool sea breeze rolling in from the East. You were sweating, skin feeling sticky as you sunbathed in peace, laid out in a one piece on your towel. Regardless of the factor thirty, you already knew you were going to burn — you always did, no matter what. The harsh rays from the sun were unforgiving to your sensitive skin, leaving you flushed and freckled.

You feel the figure looming over you pretty quickly. The slight darkness on your left hand side as said person blocked the sun. You let out a deep sigh, using your hand as a makeshift sun visor as you open your eyes carefully, squinting up into the sun.

You spy the caravan park logo on his polo shirt immediately — site worker, clearly. He’s all curly hair, pale skinned and a goofy grin on his face as he clutches onto the magazine you’d taken with you to read, obviously blown off in a gust of wind when you’d been blissfully unaware, “Think this was trying to do a runner on you,” His voice is unexpectedly deep, though still chirpy, as he extends his arm out with the magazine rolled up in his hand.

“Thanks, mate,” You bark out a little embarrassed laugh, propping yourself up on an elbow and taking the magazine from him. Your fingers brush, and you can’t help the flush that creeps up to your cheeks at the barely-there touch, “It’s shit anyway — one of them magazines people get paid fifty quid to share their fake stories to, y’know.”

The man snorts, shoves his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts, “I know the ones, my mums obsessed with them. Surely nobody believes the ghost stories?” He’s making conversation, not in any rush to get off, and it’s strange. He’s maybe the second worker you’d encountered who was genuinely an alright person.

“Oh I know, in this one they’re claiming the ghost made toast in the middle of the night. Didn’t realise they could open a loaf of bread, who’d have thought it?” You humor him, and he properly laughs at that, kicking his toes in the sand as he looks down at you.

He’s awfully pretty, you notice, as you look up at him properly now the glare of the sun has been blocked a little. Big brown eyes and a freckled nose, tinged pink from too much sun and not enough sunscreen, no doubt. Nice full lips and a cute chin, chains dangling on his neck. Very typical English boy, but that was always your type.

Your mouth runs dry, now that you’re suddenly aware of how attractive this man is and you’ve just called him mate. Ground swallow you now.

“Anyway, I’ve got to get going,” He looks sullen at that, nose scrunching up a little, “Duty calls — these old fuddy-duddies who arrive this time of year always find something to moan about.”

“Well, you enjoy that…” You blush, giggling like a dickhead, suddenly aware of the fact you’re lusting over a man who’s name you don’t even know, “Sorry, I never got your name. No nametag?”

“Tom,” Tom digs in his pocket, a small triumphant noise escaping him when he pulls the old nametag out between two fingers proudly, showing you it, “I usually don’t wear it. Can’t be fucked when these arseholes complain about the staff and name us to management.”

“Well, I’ll make sure to name you to the staff when I check out and let them know you were a very helpful young man, Tom,” Your voice drips sarcasm and humour, and you know you’ve got him hook, line and sinker when he bellows a true laugh, throwing his head back and exposing the vast expanse of his neck, veins protruding. Your thighs clench.

You’re both shook out of the little bubble when somebody starts shouting Tom’s name from behind you both, startling you. He rolls his eyes, tapping the watch on his wrist, “Gotta go, darling. You need anything just ask for me personally when you phone, yeah?”

You nod, dumbstruck as he smiles wide at you, pearly white teeth on display. He takes off in a jog, and for the first time you truly understand the term ‘hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.’

You bump into him again two days later, in the laundry room as you’re banging on the washing machine that currently had four days worth of clothes and underwear locked in it. It’d swallowed your token, locked the doors then refused to start, and you were raging — three quid down the fucking drain, just like that.

He knocks up behind you unexpectedly, his hip catching on the soft flesh of your ass as he leans over to pop a token into it. You suck in a breath and hold it, watching with awestruck eyes as the tendons in his wrist flex when he turns the dial. The machine whirs to life, water beginning to fill the drum in just mere seconds.

“What’d I tell you about just shouting for me if you needed anything?” Tom’s smug, lips so close to your ear they’re almost brushing the shell and you have to literally shove down the gasp that almost makes its way up your throat. He’s so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, and a shiver ripples up your spine.

“I didn’t expect to need maintenance help for washing my underwear,” You bristle, trying to act calm as he brushes past you and opts for leaning against the machine, hands once again buried deep into his pockets — he’s wearing grey joggers this time, clearly to match the miserable and dreary weather outside. You avert your gaze from the obvious bulge in his trousers, willing yourself to just get a fucking grip.

It doesn’t help when you lock eyes with him, and he’s all gooey brown orbs and long eyelashes. It’s embarrassing how much you fancy him, and now you feel like a right slob — down here in your leggings, hoodie and crocs of all things. Hair up in a messy bun and no makeup on, on account of the severe sunburn on your nose and cheeks.

“C’mon, we’ll go back to the token machine and I’ll get you your money back,” Tom nods towards the door, a small smirk tugging at his lips. You want to tell him you don’t need the money back, but a little part of you wonders — and hopes — that he’s offering to do this so that you have an excuse to wander off with him.

“Sure, lead the way my saviour,” You joke, extending an arm out towards the open door. He scoffs, rolling his eyes with a look that could only be described as fond on his features as he saunters past you. You feel your cheeks heat up, and it’s not from the sunburn this time.

“What’s brought you to Cornwall, then?” He asks conversationally — you’re bumping arms you’re that close, and the corridor isn’t even that narrow, he’s just naturally gravitating towards you. You plod along slowly and he matches your pace, your heart thudding in your chest as your hopes were confirmed; he was being nosey, interested in getting to know you.

“Not much, I like the beach but I live in London so I don’t get to see it much,” You admit, shoving your hands into your hoodie pocket, “I work from home, too. So I thought I’d maybe get some work done whilst I was here. The wifi is shit, by the way.”

Tom winces, shooting you an apologetic look, though it’s clearly a mockery, “Yeah, this place doesn’t have much going for it, darling. Though it’ll give you an excuse to actually enjoy your break instead of worrying about work, right?”

You’re walking so slowly you may as well be at a standstill, and you know it’s because the token machine is barely ten feet away, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” You admit, because it’s true — you’d hardly even thought about your job since you got here, enjoying your time soaking in the sun and the peace away from your roommate, “What about you? You from around here?”

“Born and raised,” Tom shrugs. You glance to the side, watching as his adams apple bobs up and down when he swallows, “I live on the site now, though, have done since I was sixteen. I’m here all year with Kai, you’ve probably seen him around, angry looking dickhead with a buzzcut. A girl called Jade used to live here too but eh, she’s gone now.”

You hum, acknowledging what he’s saying. You want to pry, the way his voice changed when he spoke about this ‘Jade’ character leaves a bitter taste in your mouth — an ex, maybe. But you were basically a stranger to Tom, so why would he explain that to you?

The both of you stop right at the token machine, and Tom fumbles for his set of keys, flipping them until he finds one with a red tag on it. You watch his hands the entire time, thirsting silently — god, his hands were so nice. For a maintenance guy, they were clean, nails manicured, the skin soft. You could tell he took care of himself, and that made him all the more attractive to you.

He slips the three pound coins into your hoodie pocket, knocking you out of your daze. His hand bumps against your waist when he pulls it out of said pocket, leaving you feeling flustered. There’s no way he’s just being nice, he’s flirting, albeit subtly.

“Thank you,” Your voice is breathy, catching in the back of your throat as your eyes search for his again, though it doesn’t take long before his eyes are locking on yours once more, “Don’t know what I’d do without you. Or that three quid, actually, that’ll get me another shitty magazine from the shop and a bottle of Coke.”

Tom laughs, showing off his ridiculously perfect teeth once again, “You’re right, it will. Hopefully the ghost story in this one’s a bit better —”

There’s a sudden harsh knock on the window behind your head that has you leaping out of your skin. He glances up to where the source of the banging came from, and he’s huffing, rolling his eyes, “Gotta go, darling. Another dickhead to deal with. Remember what I said, need anything just shout for me, yeah? Enjoy your magazine.”

He lands a soothing hand on your shoulder just barely before he’s taking off, and your skin burns even through the thick material of your hoodie.

There’s one day left of your holiday. One miserable day. You hadn’t seen Tom at all since your encounter in the laundry area, and you had to admit you were feeling deflated over it. You hadn’t been avoiding him, in fact quite the opposite, but your paths had just never crossed again.

The weather was unbearably hot once more, worse than the first day you’d met Tom, not even a breeze coming in off the sea, and you were desperate for a cold shower to rinse off the sweat from your now sunkissed skin.

The caravan door slams shut behind you as you step foot inside, basking in the little bit of cool air in the living area that’d been bathed in shade the entire day. You strip off your two-piece without a second thought — your caravan doesn’t look onto any others, and you don’t see anybody around, so there was nobody to scar when you stripped naked.

At the beginning of your holiday you didn’t believe you’d ever become accustomed to the tight living quarters, especially the bathroom, but now that you’d been at the park for a week you almost couldn’t imagine going back home to your shitty little flat in Central London. You actually enjoyed the peace and quiet, and you were saddened about leaving.

You couldn’t deny that Tom was part of that, too. Though you’d hardly gotten a chance to know him you were drawn in, and the thought of heading home the next day and never seeing him again was weighing heavy on your shoulders.

Stepping into the tight shower, you twist the dial to turn on the water, only to be engulfed in a roaring hot heat that has you yelping and gasping. The sharp sting of the scalding hot water hitting your sunburnt chest brings tears to your eyes, your hands flapping to turn the dial back until the stream stops.

You jump out of the shower, grabbing for your fluffy towel that you’d set in the open window that morning, pulling it around your bare body and tucking it in until it’s sat nicely. The ends of your hair drip wet, the water cooling fast, an almost pleasant feeling in comparison to what you just felt.

There’s not a second thought before you’re dialing 0 on the phone in the living area and asking for a maintenance person to come look at the shower, reeling off that the water was scalding hot and had burned you. The person on the other end sounds bored, uninterested and far from shocked when you tell her what happened. You hang up and, in your anger, stick up your middle finger at the phone.

You didn’t even think to ask for Tom. You perch your ass on the arm of the U-shaped sofa, nervously chewing on your bottom lip and shaking your leg as you wait, wondering who it’d be that showed up to your call. You really, really hoped it’d be him.

Not even five minutes go by before you’re hearing a rapping of knuckles on the glass pane of the door, and you answer it quickly, all street smarts going out the window as you pull the door open just clad in your towel. Tom stands on the narrow step, clutching onto a metal tool box, and you breathe out a sigh of relief that it’s him.

“Fucking hell, that burn looks sore,” Tom looks with bug eyes at your chest, taking in the look of your skin tinged a deep red, much darker than the rest of your sunburnt body. You flush, moving out of the way to let him in, “If you put in a claim for that this place would be shut down.”

He laughs about it, but visibly looks nervous. You can’t help but wonder if, as much as he complained about the job, he genuinely liked it. Or maybe it was all he knew, which was also probably true, considering he had told you he’d been here living since he was just a teenager. A pang in your chest asserts itself at that realisation.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, it’s my own stupid fault for stepping into the shower before turning it on like a silly bitch,” You shake it off, a wobbly little laugh escaping you, “Nothing a bit of lotion won’t fix, Tom.”

“No, it’s fucking ridiculous that this even happened,” Tom grunts, stepping past you and wandering the short distance into the bathroom. You follow him like a lost puppy, clutching at the top of your towel with one hand, standing in the doorway as you watch him flip his toolbox open, grabbing for something and banging the shower door open.

“Dunno why they still rent out this caravan every summer there’s so much shit wrong with it, told the manager it was fit for the scrap yard two years ago,” Tom’s conversational, unscrewing the shower tap and fiddling with it as if you’re not standing there basically naked and still slightly damp from your failed attempt at hosing off.

You’re trying to look anywhere but right in his direction. It’s hard, though. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his arm bulging and straining under the tight material of his polo shirt as he uses his wrench to tighten a bolt, “S’okay, I got it pretty cheap. I’m away home tomorrow, didn’t want the next poor sod to get burnt like I did.”

Tom shoots a glance at you, brows marrying for a moment until he’s turning back to the job at hand, “I didn’t realise you were away so soon, fuck sake. If I’d known I would’ve come and seen you earlier. You’re alright, y’know?”

“Thank you?” It comes out as a question, and you can’t help but feel somewhat offended by his choice of words, “I suppose you’re alright yourself. Probably the only decent member of staff I’ve spoken to this entire week.”

“Yeah, the nice face and banter are just a bonus, eh?” Tom flashes you his teeth again and it has you rolling your eyes, though a fond smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, “Not like those posh London boys, they’re stuffy and boring.”

“You’re right about that,” You agree, watching as he throws the wrench back into the toolbox blindly, the tool landing correctly in its place. It’s now or never, you think, as he screws the tap back on. This is it, after this last chance meeting you’re not gonna see him again. “Who’d have thought something as simple as catching a blown away magazine would have a girl weak at the knees?”

You cringe at yourself, though Tom’s head shoots around. He looks at you with a confusion etched on his features, and you have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Surely you were being obvious enough, right?

You watch him dumbly step out of the shower, even going as far as to shut the screen door behind him, “What do you mean?” He asks, quirking a brow. Clearly you weren’t being obvious, then.

“Is it not totally obvious that I’m into you?” You scoff, wanting to lean forward and rattle that devourable looking neck. He’s clearly so clueless, it would actually be kind of endearing if you didn’t find it so infuriating.

Tom balks at you, taking a step closer to you, which has him almost right up in your face, with how enclosed the space of the bathroom is, “Really? I’m really shit at reading signals, sorry, love.”

Love. You melt at the pet name, going all gooey. You take your chance, fingers tugging at your towel until it’s loosening on your body. He watches you with curious eyes that soon turn lust filled, when you let the towel drop to the floor and pool around your feet.

You blush under his intense gaze, taking in the swell of your tits, the pebble of your nipples, the curve of your hips, the mound of your cunt. He takes another step, so you’re basically toe to toe, and he exhales loudly.

“Not done this for a while,” Tom admits, as his large hands engulf your waist, pulling you closer to him until your naked body is flush against him, the soft material of his worn-in work polo a pleasant feeling against your skin, “Can I kiss you?”

You nod, far too fast, too eager, but he clearly doesn’t seem to mind, leaning in until his plump lips are capturing yours. You melt into it, arms wrapping around his neck to tug him in closer, fingers burying in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Tom deepens the kiss quickly, tongue running over your bottom lip and you open up willingly, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. His own tongue glides along yours deliciously, has your pussy clenching and your legs shaking. He moves you blindly backwards, like he knows the entire layout of this caravan — which he probably does, has probably been here many a time.

The backs of your legs hit the bed and you let yourself fall backward, opening your legs for Tom to nudge between them, one hand still on your waist tightly, other slipping down your leg, fingertips digging into the meat of your thigh. You shiver, unable to contain it, the feeling of the hands you’d thought about so much the last week finally on you was almost enough to drive you crazy.

Tom’s hand skates higher and higher up your thigh, until he’s cupping the heat of your cunt. He’s the one to break the kiss, pulling away from you to look you in the eyes properly, like he’s looking for confirmation that you’re still good and you’re okay to keep going, “You okay if I touch you?”

You melt. You nod, and he dives in, kissing the side of your neck with spit-slick lips, leaving you gasping and writhing below him. He bumps his hips down into you, and you feel the outline of his hard cock brushing against your inner thigh.

Suddenly, your carnal desire for him overcomes your every being, your hands falling from the back of his neck to fist into his shirt, bunching up big handfuls of the material, “C’mon, you too?” You beg, voice whiny, completely distracted by how Tom bites and kisses at your neck, “Need to see you too.”

He sits back on his haunches, smirking down at you, hands leaving your body and in turn leaving you cold — though it’s not for long, as you watch him pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. He dives back down into you quickly, bumping those godforsaken hips down against your pussy this time, leaving you gasping.

That stupid, shit eating grin never leaves his face until he’s burying his face back into your neck, peppering your skin with kisses, hand nudging between your legs again, until the pads of two of his fingers finally dip in between your slick folds, gathering your juices on them. He grunts against you, rutting his hips down again, “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He mumbles, caught off guard by it.

“Mmph, all for you,” You gasp, breath catching in your throat when he finds the swollen, sensitive bud of your clit and starts rubbing in small, tight circles, until your hips are pushing up into the air, “Oh God —!”

You lose yourself in the feeling of Tom lathering you in kisses, the way his plump lips ghost along the stinging, burnt skin of your chest and soothe it, his fingers working on your clit until your cunt is gushing wetter than before. He’s so sensual, passionate, taking the most attentive care to your body, and it’s driving you wild.

“You feel so good on my fingers,” Tom groans in between kisses, looking at you with those pretty, chocolate brown eyes, now mostly blackened with lust, “Can’t wait to feel you on my cock, babe.”

You squeal, a moan punching out of you when his fingers leave your clit just barely to dip into the entrance of your pussy and glide back up, taking some of your milky wetness with them. You clench, quivering at his words, a deep heat blooming in the pit of your belly, alarmingly fast, “I’m so close,” You admit, losing yourself in the pleasure of Tom’s fingers catching on your clit, winding you up tight, tight, tight.

Tom kisses the swell of your breast, lips dragging down until they latch onto your nipple, licking and sucking until you’re crying out. He can’t take his eyes off of you, watching every contortion of your face as he makes you fall apart. Your fingers grip into his curls, tugging lightly until he’s groaning, vibrations echoing up your chest.

His fingers work at that same torturing pace, sliding in circles until you’re arching off the bed slightly, coil in your tummy snapping, your entire body tensing and going lax just as fast as your orgasm washes over you, a gush of slick slipping from your hole as you shake through it.

Tom works you through it until you’re jerking away, fingers unwinding from his hair and pushing at his shoulders instead. He presses a light kiss to your nipple, pulling himself up and slipping his fingers from your cunt, “Was that okay?” He asks, though he’s smiling, proud of himself, clearly.

You nod, catching sight of the prominent bulge in his grey joggers, sudden desperation to get to his cock overtaking you — you lean up, tugging at the waistband of the offending material until it’s bunched around his thighs, uncut cock springing out proudly, you gasp, “No underwear? You always wander around like this, you slag?”

Tom laughs, shaking his head, “No, I wasn’t on shift but took the call because I knew this was your caravan,” He admits, and you giggle, a little swell of pride in your chest. That little admission was enough for you, he did like you as much as you liked him.

He dives back into you, capturing your lips with his own, and you take that opportunity to get a feel for his cock, deft fingers blindly wrapping around the length and giving him an experimental tug, pulling the foreskin back. He gasps into your mouth as you work him up and down, your thumb swiping over the tip, and he’s punching his hips into your hand.

“Keep doing that an’ I’m gonna cum before I get to fuck you,” He mumbles against your mouth, nibbling at your bottom lip just a little. You take that as your cue to stop, hand dropping from his cock and instead wrapping around his bicep.

He makes a show of it, like an arsehole, grabbing a hold of his cock and sliding the tip through the mess of your cunt, catching on your clit and gliding it back down, until you’re gasping and silently begging for it, digging your nails into the meat of his tanned arms.

“C’mon, Tom. Please?” You whisper, looking up at him with pleading eyes, and he takes the bait — he slips his cock into you in one fluid motion, until his balls are flush against your ass. You couldn’t have been prepared for the sheer thickness of him stretching you from the inside out, a gasp escaping you when the head of his cock brushes along your frontal wall.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Tom moans, burying his head into the other side of your neck this time, kissing and biting at your flesh until it’s raised. He pulls out, slamming back into you to the hilt, and you clench around him, unable to help it, the curved head of his cock brushing against the spongey part of your cunt perfectly, “God, babe, don’t do that, I’ll cum so quick.”

You moan, clenching around him again until he’s groaning, fucking in and out of you properly, your cunt sucking him in, gushing around his length. You’re overwhelmed by the feeling of him all over you, his lips and teeth on your neck, his hair tickling your face, his toned torso crushing down into yours, his cock sliding in and out of the tight heat of your pussy.

“You feel so good around me, fuck,” Tom’s mumbling against you, words almost getting lost in your skin, but you’re fucking melting for it, the praises having you keening up into him.

You feel your orgasm building quickly, unaware of how loud you’re moaning until Tom’s picking up the pace of his thrusts, the slap of his hips against your ass echoing in the room, the wet schlick of your pussy mixing with the other sinful noises.

“M’gonna cum,” You cry, tears pricking at your eyes as your tummy blooms with heat once again, orgasm building a lot quicker this time than the last time, and Tom pulls himself away from the crevice of your neck, looking at you with his lust blown eyes, swollen red lips open in a constant moan, “Fuck, Tom, s’good, so good,”

You’re babbling and Tom groans, fucking you so rough you’re sliding up the bed — your high hits you so hard you see stars, eyes squeezing shut as your cunt flutters and gushes around the girth of Tom’s cock, fingernails biting into his arms so hard that you know you’re going to leave behind broken skin.

“Oh shit, oh fuck,” Tom’s voice goes high pitched, eyes rolling into his skull as your pussy grips him like a vice, and he’s coming too, hips stuttering as he paints your walls in his release, cock pulsing in the tight heat of your cunt.

You mewl, spent body giving into everything. You feel like you’re floating, unable to comprehend what just happened. Tom’s looking down at you with this big dopey grin and you smile back, leaning up to kiss him languidly as his spent cock goes soft.

Tom slips out of you with a hiss, collapsing down next to you, chest still heaving on breath, “You sure you’ve gotta go home tomorrow, darling?” He asks, voice quiet as he tugs you into him, those big arms engulfing you in a tight cuddle. Your whole body melts into his, your mind blank of anything but him. Maybe you didn’t have to go home just yet.

“I suppose I could see about hanging around for another week… or two,” You admit, and Tom cackles in triumph, squeezing you tighter until you’re giggling into his chest, heart swelling.

#tom grant smut #tom grant x reader #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #my fanfic #mine #my writing #x reader #not this being the longest fic i've ever published stoppppp

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lee-the-yeen · 9 months ago

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I’m yelling into the void a bit more about Don’t Starve, don’t mind me. Specifically about Wilson, his medical know-how, his weird relationship with death, and the origin of his Forbidden Knowledge.

Let’s start with the easy one, Wilson being medically trained.

To start, Wilson’s quote for the Peg Leg.

Then in the Forge, Wilson’s special ability is to revive his teammates twice as fast with more health.

Wilson’s Victorian Skin is an old-timey doctor, even mentioning the four humors (even if that practice was far outdated by the Victorian Era).

I remember once seeing a quote about Wilson getting kicked out of a school for setting something on fire, but take that with a grain of salt because I am struggling to find it.

Now onto Wilson’s weirdness with death of his fellow man.

It’s clear the Constant has left him quite jaded with death as a concept, which is very fair.

But you cannot tell me that a man with a normal view of death would find a skeleton under the floorboards of his new house and just…put the boards back. Or hell, that skeleton is very likely to be the one we see strung up in Wilson’s lab in the very first short!

There’s also Wilson’s quote for Skeletons from Don’t Starve classic:

As well as his disregard for the sanctity of graves.

So yeah. He isn’t normal about human death, just like how he isn’t exactly normal about science.

Wilson is confirmed to be the creator of several items that everyone is able to craft and use.

Obviously the Meat Effigy, but it doesn’t stop there.

Maxwell isn’t particularly enthused about the Think Tank:

The Fire Pump is bemoaned to be his:

The Booster Shot is another item he’s very likely to have made, seeing as he’s the only one truly enthusiastic about it. Further connects him to his medical know-how, as well.

From the Survival Tips, Wilson is also very likely to be the one to have made the first Telltale Heart.

Revive: “We nearly lost one of our numbers today. In a mad daze I created…something…that managed to pull our friend back to the land of the living, but…whatever it was, I fear I cannot rightfully say it was within the realm of science…” -W

Gardeneer: “I’ve finally perfected my design for an ingenious (if I do say so myself) device that stores important garden-based knowledge. Certain naysayers might point out that it looks like nothing more than an overturned flowerpot worn on the head…some people simply don’t have an eye for science.” -W

The tips are (almost) all signed with a W, but it’s clear who wrote these ones, especially since Wilson wore the Gardeneer hat during the Reap What You Sow trailer.

That hat leads me to my next point. It is something that Wilson made, he invented it.

Then tell me why you are able to upgrade it at the Ancient Pseudoscience Station, when literally everything else you can do at it is craft fully ancient artifacts?

And doesn’t the storage of knowledge sound eerily familiar? Such as…

Whatever depths Maxwell snagged Wilson’s Forbidden Knowledge from, it definitively has origins with the Ancients.

Which…

…is quite concerning.

#dst #dont starve #dont starve together #dst wilson #wilson percival higgsbury #character analysis #yeen babbles #i wrote this at midnight just like the last one lol #thank you for reading my dumb rambles

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1-siracha · 1 year ago

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i have a personal headcannon that since solomon is old as hell, his humor is a little.. outdated.

asmodeus, showing solomon a new makeup look he made: do you like it?

solomon: oh em gee, slay girlypop!

asmo: is this because im a femboy

leviathan: lets go!! we cleared the final boss!!

solomon: *stands up and slowly hits the dab*

leviathan: ... 😨

lucifer: mammon, it seems you have failed this test. you know what happens now.

solomon: emotional damage

mammon and lucifer: get the FUCK out of this office

mc: ...wait, is this spell intentionally wrong?

solomon: hahaha get trolled mlg airhorn noise troll face

mc: ive FUCKING HAD IT *summons all seven brothers*

#ok now im legally obligated to draw this #idk abt you but if anyone said emotional damage to me ever in november 2023 i would maul them #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me nb #obey me swd #obey me crack #obey me memes #obey me incorrect quotes #obey me headcanons #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon

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spirkkock · 4 months ago

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Queer Text/Subtext in Shallow Grave (1994)

CW: BLOOD, STABBING, MURDER, NON-SEXUAL NUDITY, DRUG USE

I guess I wrote a rough essay... about the queer subtext in Shallow Grave... Here... have the rough draft if you'd like...

Overt references to queerness:

When we look at contemporary movies, we often have a knee-jerk reaction to dismiss any “funny” references to queerness or sexuality to be taken as jokes and nothing further than that. Unfortunately, this has become all too common, and does a disservice to the films we watch. So I will be taking every moment of referenced or implied queerness as serious, even if it is delivered in a humorous way. Especially because this movie is not meant to be a comedy (despite some humorous moments).

Furthermore, references to queerness in movies should be taken seriously because they establish not only the existence of queerness (in universe, as one might say), but can also demonstrate the character’s attitudes towards queerness. Its important to notice that at no point in this movie are any references to queerness played for a laugh – they might be humorous, but we are not meant to laugh at the character for being queer, which indicates that queerness is taken seriously within the universe of the movie (or at least between the characters).

The first overt reference to queerness is when Juliet asks an interviewee if he is having an affair with a man or a woman and the man is not given screen time to answer. This same man bursts into tears after Alex, a man, says, “When did anyone last say to you these exact words, ‘you are the sunshine of my life’?” (this is a reference to the Stevie Wonder song of the same name). While it is technically (according to the script) said by Alex to a different interviewee, the arrangement of the shots does not indicate that, as it cuts directly from Alex asking the question to the man crying. This could imply a number of things.

The second overt reference to queerness comes at the charity ball, where a Scotsman says, “ladies and gentlemen, and those of you who are neither or both,” which is then met with a drumroll. Alex immediately responds, offended, “where did they dig him up?” implying that Alex finds the joke to be outdated and, perhaps, distasteful.

The third overt reference is when Alex dresses in drag. He also appears in the same scene, on the tape recording wearing some rather flamboyant costumes. The fact that Alex is in drag is not addressed by any of the other characters, nor by Alex, indicates that this is either a usual occurrence, or, for some reason, entirely unremarkable to the characters. Specifically, it is interesting that David does not comment on it, as he walks into the scene unsuspecting.

The fourth, and final, overt reference to queerness is when, upon being told of Juliet and David’s relationship, Alex says to Juliet, “I’d do exactly the same thing except I don’t think I’m his type.” If the line is interpreted sarcastically (which I think most viewers will) then we can assume that he is jealous of David for being with Juliet. If it is interpreted as earnest, then we can assume that he is jealous of Juliet for being with David. It also could be an ambiguous combination of both.

Queer Subtext:

Now let us dig into the subtext, which I actually find to be much juicier....

The Squash Scene and the Car

Directly after the interviews have concluded, we are given a scene which helps frame the relationship between the three characters as one built on dynamics of domination and submission and gives us a baseline to understand each of the character’s roles within this dynamic. This scene takes place on the Squash court.

There is a deviation here between the script and the film, as several lines have been cut, but I will include them as they add some context to the scene.

In the above text, Alex indicates that he sees this game of squash as a struggle for dominance. In this case, the game between Alex and David is won by Alex, who then, despite having called David a “bad loser,” demonstrates that he is a sore winner when he gloats over David by saying, “defeat, defeat, defeat – sporting, personal, financial, professional, sexual, and everything.”

David is clearly annoyed by this and storms off. This scene sets up the ongoing power dynamic between Alex and David in which Alex is the dominant one in the relationship. It also is the first time that we see David being emasculated by Alex, which will continue occurring for the first half of the movie.

Immediately after David leaves the court, Juliet takes his place to play a match against Alex. In this scene she is wearing a rather masculine outfit which is similar to that of the two male characters. She also sports short hair throughout the movie, but this is the scene in which she appears the most “boyish.” When she enters the court to play, Alex begins to make the same statement (“Did you know squash is-”) that he made (in the script) earlier, to David. Thus he is using this exercise as a way to exert dominance, not only over David, his male sexual rival, but also over Juliet, thus implying that she is on equal footing – therefore also a sexual rival. However, Juliet cuts him off and tells him, “Alex, just serve.”

The action of cutting off Alex denies him domination in that moment, thus establishing that the two of them are on much more equal footing, or possibly that Juliet is in fact the dominant one between the two of them. This scene serves to establish that typical gendered dynamics are somewhat blurred between these three individuals, and that David, instead of Juliet, takes on the most feminine/passive role in the group.

The next scene once again highlights the complicated gender and power dynamics within the group. Juliet drives the car (masculine) while Alex and David bicker with one another from the back seat and passenger seat, respectively.

In this scene, addressing Alex’s win, David says, “Victory is the same as defeat – it’s giving into destructive competitive urges,” which distances him from competition, and could be interpreted as him rejecting the masculine urge to dominate. Alex, in return, emasculates him by belittling his reliance on a “discussion group,” (implied to be therapy). During this scene, Alex and David are looking at one another, however, the rear-view mirror blocks both of their eyes. This symbolizes their unwillingness to see “eye-to-eye and perhaps a certain level of repression between the two of them. Also in this scene, Juliet physically dominates Alex by elbowing him in the chest, and attempts to emasculate him verbally by implying that a woman that he is interested in hates him. She does this specifically in response to Alex’s emasculation of David, thus establishing that while Alex might be dominant over David, she is dominant over him. During this exchange, however, in her attempt to protect David from Alex, David is further emasculated because he relies on someone else to defend him.

Discovering the Body / Three Friends, Three Bodies

When the trio discovers Hugo’s body we see some more of this interesting dynamic.

David stands by shocked while Alex ransacks the room searching for paraphernalia, while Juliet (the doctor among them) attends to the body.

Hugo’s nude corpse in this scene represents male vulnerability. He is prone and exposed on the bed, having overdosed on heroin, and can do nothing while his privacy is violated (by the dominant, Alex). The injection of drugs into the body, in this case, could also be said to symbolize emasculation - the breaking of the body barrier through penetration of a syringe (phallus). This exemplifies a significant cultural fear at the time – death of the male body via penetration, which had become a major concern due to the HIV/AIDS epidemic. (If I was writing this essay for real, this is where I would insert articles that demonstrate horror’s preoccupation with AIDS and gay stuff during the 80s and 90s, but this is just for fun)

David, of course, is enamored by this display of the fragility of the male body. I would suggest that he identifies with Hugo’s vulnerability in death, and that the treatment of Hugo’s body by Alex and Juliet mirrors the way that they treat David. While Alex takes advantage of Hugo’s vulnerability in death by violating his privacy (thus dominating it), Juliet emasculates Hugo’s corpse by tending to it. In one shot, we also see Juliet’s fingers dangerously close to penetrating Hugo’s mouth.

We can also expand upon this by recognizing that the two male characters that are pursuing Hugo and the trio in search of the money, are parallels to Juliet and David. The two men are able to dominate Juliet and Alex through violence, only then to be killed by David. Thus, the three bodies that the trio end up burying are parallels to the trio themselves.

David Overcomes Emasculation, Alex Becomes Emasculated.

Alex’s emasculation of David continues throughout the first half of the movie, culminating in David being forced to dismember Hugo’s body (the very body that he identifies with). When this occurs, he becomes the violator/aggressor/dominator.

This occurrence proceeds the change in the group dynamic. Around the midpoint of the movie (during the charity ball) we see David transition into a dominant role in the trio, while Alex becomes submissive.

This is demonstrated first by Juliet dominating Alex while they dance. Alex falls to the floor, drunk, and Juliet takes that moment to step on Alex’s mouth, forcing him to lick the bottom of her shoe. He then willingly kisses her ankle, meeting her eye contact submissively. It is made clear through his facial expressions and laughter, that he finds joy in this act, thus embracing the emasculation (whereas David had always responded poorly, rejecting it).

Alex then attempts to re-exert control over David by forcing him to toast when he doesn’t want to. David eventually concedes after Alex yells at him, demanding that he toast to “love and happiness forever.” (Alex also humiliates and emasculates Cameron in this scene).

David finally exerts control when Brian McKenly (a man keen on pursuing Juliet) interrupts their conversation. David responds by standing on level with Brian and stating, “If you want to talk to my girlfriend, you talk to me first. If you want to dance with her, you apply in writing three weeks in advance or you end up inside of a fucking bin bag. You didn’t apply – so you don’t dance!”

While David shrinks a bit afterwards, admitting that he found the interaction stressful, both Juliet and Alex embrace him, in high spirits (one might say… aroused…). Alex exclaims, “He [David] was really good – fucking bin bag – I really liked that. You really explored your maleness to the full there! You were magnificent.” This statement indicates that Alex, who has rarely had an encouraging word for David over the course of the movie, is invigorated upon seeing that David has stepped into a dominant role, exerting his masculinity onto others. Immediately following this, Alex is assaulted in the bathroom by Cameron (who he had emasculated twice prior) and two other men, who beat him quite badly, thus emasculating Alex.

The following day, Alex’s emasculation is made complete when he dresses in drag and spends the day in debauchery with Juliet. The framing of his and Juliet’s bodies during this scene is also worth noting, as they are often visually indistinguishable from one another – with Alex being noticeably more feminine than Juliet in several shots due to his makeup, jewelry, dress, and rather delicate shoulders.

(Notably, during the entirety of the ball scene and much of the drag/video scene, Alex is often pictured smoking a cigar instead of his usual cigarette, which could be said to stand in for a phallus.)

From this point on, David is almost always dominant over Alex. (One notable exception is one moment where Alex leans in close to David during dinner and orders, “now swallow,” while making very intense eye contact. David regains control by reminding Alex that David was the one who dismembered Hugo’s body.)

After this point it is clear that David is undergoing some extreme psychological stress, and has become paranoid and aggressive. His shift in demeanor is most clearly symbolized by this shot, where he calls out of work so that he can begin making plans to protect the cash.

The Wickerman

During one scene, an injured Alex lays on the couch and watches the final scene of The Wickerman (1973).

The Wickerman tells the tale of a conservative Christian police officer who goes to a Scottish isle to investigate the disappearance of a girl, only to discover that the locals are practicing a form of paganism that involves human sacrifice. The police officer discovers that he is in fact the sacrifice. It is implied that he is the sacrifice because he is a virgin and a heterosexual, and he is unwilling to have sex with Christopher Lee’s character. Christopher Lee was most well known at the time for playing the lead in Dracula (1958) – another movie with extremely well documented queer subtext. The audience of The Wickerman would have been aware of this.

During this scene, the drumbeats of the pagan ritual, where the police officer is being marched to his execution/sacrifice, synchronizes with David’s steps overhead, a sound that the characters and the audience come to associate with surveillance and dread.

Honestly this scene has me a bit stumped. Who does Alex identify with in this situation? The heterosexual victim? – is the ending subverted because his submission culminates in… the penetration of Alex's body… thus making him queer? Idk it's been a long day.

Surveillance

During the second half of the movie, David moves into the Attic and rarely comes down when his housemates are home. He is protecting the money, both from his housemates and from the men who eventually come looking for it. While Alex and Juliet are brutalized by the men, David is the one who has set a trap for them, and is able to kill them. He also leads the trio to dispose of the bodies, and drives the van (whereas Alex had driven the van the first time they disposed of the bodies, when he had been the dominant one in the relationship).

During his time in the attic, David drills holes in the ceiling so that he can spy on his housemates. He is literally in a dominant position over them, looking down on them while they go about their daily tasks. In one scene, he spies on Alex and Juliet while they are sleeping. In this scene, he is shown first to be watching Alex. David is also in a state of undress that we have not seen before, implying a certain sensuality to the observation. We do not get to see Alex in a state of undress, but the scene finishes with Alex putting his shoes on, the camera looking down from above, implying David’s Point of view, and that he had watched the whole time. After Alex leaves, David moves to watch Juliet, in a scene that is much longer and more explicitly inappropriate and sexualized, especially because we come to understand that David’s temporary attic bed is located directly over her bed. However, before she begins undressing, he looks away and holds his head in his hands.

This scene simultaneously offers us a leveling effect between the two objects of David’s gaze (Alex and Juliet), while simultaneously prioritizing the heterosexual coupling. However, the implication that there is shame associated with the heterosexual gaze, complicates the situation.

Penetration with the Drill (Phallus)

When Alex goes into the attic to look for the money (and finds it in the water tank), he climbs back down the ladder only to be confronted by David, who is holding a drill (phallus) as a weapon. Alex’s hands are wet from the water, and he frantically wipes them on the seat of his pants, behind his back, visually placing his hands as a barrier to his anus. The Drill makes contact with Alex's head and breaks the skin in an act of penetration (the body barrier is broken). This is the first scene in which David directly engages in domination (and penetration) of Alex.

David’s Glasses and Alex’s Photo

Lenses, mirrors, and portals/doorways are deeply significant visual aids in this movie, but I want to highlight the one that stood out to me the most. When Juliet and David have (implied) sex, at which point they solidify their status as a couple, David removes his glasses, and places them on Juliet’s bedside table. Underneath the glasses is a photo of Alex in costume, a cigar in his mouth, framed through the lens of the glasses. The photo was taken on the day in which we see Alex at his most feminine, at a point where he had been thoroughly emasculated (beaten in a bathroom by a man that he had emasculated multiple times). The framing of the photo, through the lens of David’s glasses implies that this is how David sees Alex – costumed, emasculated, and with a phallus in his mouth.

This photo is also shown once more in the film; David holds the photo of Alex as he lies in his attic bed, and he pins it above his head so he can look at it. The scene cuts to Alex, also in bed, who then gets up. It once again cuts back to David, who also gets up, and we see that Juliet lies asleep next to him. This follows a pattern of shots that we’ve seen before in the film (see the Surveillance section), where we see David watching Alex in what could be interpreted as a sexual or romantic way, before the camera reveals Juliet and lingers significantly. The implication is that whatever there is between David and Alex always gives way to the relationship between David and Juliet.

Returning to the glasses - the final time that we see them is during the climax of the movie. The three characters are struggling against one another, and David’s head is forced into the refrigerator so that Alex can try and smash him with the door. He manages to throw Alex off, but not before his glasses are caught on the shelf of the refrigerator, thus knocking them off his face. Having David’s glasses be knocked off would not typically be significant in a fight scene such as this, however the camera goes out of its way to linger on this shot, indicating that the symbolism here is important. The other time that we have seen David remove his glasses has been before he has (implied) sex with Juliet. In this case, the removal of the glasses occurs just before David pins Alex in his final act of domination, which then culminates in the ultimate symbolic act of sexual penetration – David stabbing Alex with a knife (phallus).

NOTE: David is also pictured without glasses at the beginning of the film, where he is lying on his back, and halfway through the film, after he has dismembered Hugo in a symbolic act of violence against his own vulnerability. In the first scene we hear his monologue; “I’m not ashamed, I’ve known love, I’ve known rejection. I’m not afraid to declare my feelings. Take trust for instance, or friendship. These are the important things in life. These are the things that matter, that help you on your way. If you can’t trust your friends well, then what then? What then? This could have been any city, but all the same.” It is unclear until the end, but it seems that the first time that we see David, right at the beginning, we are actually seeing him postmortem in the morgue. Meaning that the monologue is a lament on his life... (You're not ashamed of what, David? Being a bit gay, perhaps?)

Penetration with the Knife (Phallus)

At the climax of the movie, after David’s glasses have been removed, we arrive at David’s final act of domination over Alex. David pins Alex to the floor by sitting on his stomach, with Alex’s legs pinned underneath his knees in a position that could be interpreted as sexual. He then holds Alex by the throat, and stabs him in the shoulder, slicing clean through and penetrating the floor. The act of stabbing (penetrating) a victim with a knife (phallus) is one often noted in analysis of horror films, as having sexual implications (again – I’d find some article about it here if I was a serious writer lol).

Before David can stab Alex again with a second knife, David is stabbed with a knife through the throat from behind by Juliet. Thus Juliet, who has been a dominant character throughout the movie, is symbolically penetrating David with a phallus. Furthermore, the location of the stabbing in the throat and from behind, implies that David has now suffered, once again, an emasculation, just as he had just preformed on Alex.

David collapses and dies, just as Hugo did, from emasculation through the body barrier being broken from penetration. Thus, David’s identification with Hugo’s corpse and the vulnerability that it represented, is complete in this moment.

Juliet then kneels over Alex, taking up the same position that David had just occupied, and places her hand on the knife in Alex’s shoulder, pressing on it, thus taking David’s place as the one to dominate Alex. She then removes her shoe, and in an act that mirrors the scene from the charity ball in which she dominated Alex by having him lick her shoe/foot, she uses her shoe to hit the knife three times, driving it deeper into his shoulder, further penetrating him. Thus, in her final interaction with both David, and Alex, she has penetrated them.

As she puts her shoe back on, we can see inside of the refrigerator, where we once again see David’s glasses, recalling once again that this scene is coded as sexual in nature through the movie's visual language.

As the movie closes, we discover that Alex is alive (probably), and that he has hidden the money underneath the floorboard. In the ultimate irony of the movie, the character that spent the second half of the movie being coded as the submissive (homosexual receiving) partner, has come out on top, despite the other two character’s attempt to dominate (and kill) him.

Uhhh the credits roll, and they're all shown as they were in the first scene of the movie, smiling, laughing, and the love song "Happy Heart" plays...

#shallow grave #ewan mcgregor #i can't believe i wrote 7 pages of this #lmfao #this is for you loycspotting #cw: blood #CW: stabbing #cw: nudity #cw: murder

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