#you're supposed to brew weakness

[star--anon]

started playing Minecraft again and forgot you can take fall damage from lava anyway guess who just died

[wavesmp3]

young & stupid

yoon jeonghan x reader (gender neutral)

you think yoon jeonghan is crazy when he asks if you'll pretend to date him, but luckily for him you're just young and dumb enough to agree.

genre: university + fake dating au word count: 14k warnings: alcohol, profanity, some explicit content, mentions of sex, and a very american writer who says soccer instead of football a/n: posted an unfinished version of this like 4 years ago and randomly decided one day a couple weeks ago to finish it. this is the most indulgent fic i have ever written. pls enjoy my birthday gift to myself lolol

Music bursts from every corner of the run-down frat house, chasing after you no matter where you run to escape it. Bodies endlessly spill in from the patio and front entrance, a never ending revolving door of college kids just like yourself looking for some kind of release after a long week of… well, college. But unlike most times you’ve paid a visit to Soonyoung’s frat house on a Friday night, tonight you’ve already decided that you are not going to be having fun at this party.

Soonyoung begged you to come, bribing your appearance with a promise to study with you for the next math quiz. Of course the first thing he does after walking into the house with you is ditch you. But even that, you deal with. You find some friends among the crowd, acquaint yourself with some beer, and almost start to have fun egging on a brewing dance battle. But all that ends the second you turn a corner too fast and are met with a full cup of bright red jungle juice all over your white shirt.

So now, upstairs in a bathroom Soonyoung let you in to, desperately trying to wash out the stains, you make a stubborn decision to not make another appearance at a frat party for the rest of the semester which you’re positive you’ll break by the time midterms are up.

But for now, helplessly staring at your reflection in the dirty mirror, you arrive to the conclusion that this damn jungle juice stain is not coming out. You exit the bathroom into the adjoining room and start grabbing your stuff to walk home.

“Who the fuck are you?” You jump at the voice that’s joined you in the room. You hadn’t even noticed anyone entering. You stare at the figure, mouth open. “How’d you get into my room?”

“Oh my gosh, so sorry,” you apologize in a hurried voice, packing your things up impossibly faster. “Soonyoung let me in. It was just supposed to be a quick thing–Wait no, that makes it sound like we were hooking up. Which we definitely were not. I can promise you that much, lol, not Soonyoung. But no, I just needed the bathroom. Cause this dude and his jungle juice, and…” you look down at your shirt. “Anyways, I was about to go home. I didn’t even–”

“Okay, wait, slow down.” The guy cuts you off. “You know Soonyoung.”

You nod. “Uh, yeah, we’re friends.”

He steps closer, narrowing his eyes at you, and for a moment you think the guy looks a little bit familiar. “And you’re not a stalker?”

This time you squint, jutting your head forward. “A stalker?” He stares at you unwavering. You scoff. “Um. No. Of course not.”

“Oh, okay, good.” He exhales, his previous demeanor falling entirely. “Well, in that case, let me help.” He walks towards one of the dressers, pulling the drawer open to rummage through it.

“No. That’s okay. You don’t have to–”

“Let me. Plus,” he gestures towards the general direction of your shirt without looking up from the drawer, “that can’t be comfortable. And it definitely isn’t flattering.”

You’re too stunned to say anything back. You’re not sure how you’d respond anyways to what you think counts as an insult from the dude who’s also helping you. You study him instead. You’ve definitely seen him around before, but you’re not entirely sure where or when because you probably would’ve remembered someone as attractive as him. He’s tall, soft-faced with longer hair that cuts off right under his ears, and damn is he attractive. In an obvious—in your face, weak in the knees, god this man is beautiful—kind of way. Not that you notice.

“Here.” He throws a tshirt your way, and you catch it between your arms. You both stare at each for a long moment, until he jumps on his heels a little as if he’s suddenly remembered something. “My bad, I’ll turn around.”

You stare unamused at his backside. He really doesn’t think you’re going to change with him in the room does he?

And almost as if he’s reading your mind, he says: “Don’t worry, I won’t peek.” He looks over his shoulder with a crooked, mischievous smile. “I mean unless you want me to.” Your stomach throws itself out the window.

You scoff. “I’ll just change in the bathroom.” You fully expect the guy to be gone by the time you exit the bathroom, but instead he’s still there, sitting at the edge of the bed on his phone.

You clear your throat. “Thanks for the shirt.”

“Oh, yeah,” he looks up from his phone and takes you in. You swear his mouth twitches into a half smile. “It’s no big deal.

You let out an awkward half laugh, half sigh. “So, I’ll get this shirt back to you somehow. Thanks again.”

He nods, still staring at the air around your body with that sickeningly charming half smile. You turn for the door.

“Wait!” You pause, facing the boy again who is now standing up, arm stretched out towards you. He drops it at once like it was never supposed to be there. “Are you going back to the party?”

You actually laugh at that. “God, no. I’m going home.”

“Oh.” He tilts his head, and then opens and closes his mouth as if the words keep getting lost in the back of his throat. You try not to think too hard about how endearing the action is. “I can give you a ride if you want.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, that’s alright. I don’t live that far.” You live on the opposite side of campus.

He grabs a set of keys off his desk. “Let me. I wanna get out of this party too. But sadly,” he motions to the room you’re both standing in, then leans towards you a little, “I live here.”

And you know you should refuse. You know there is nothing sensical about letting this stranger, whose name you don’t even know, take you home. But there’s something about his smile and the tufts of hair falling over his forehead, something about the way he gave you his shirt that makes you say yes against your better judgment.

It turns out, leaving the party with the mysteriously nice guy, who’s conveniently hot (again, not that you’re looking), is much harder than it looks. The only plus side to getting bombarded with people wanting to talk to him, is that you learn his name: Jeonghan. And it hits you then, of course you’ve seen him around before. Well, maybe not him, but you’ve definitely seen his picture. His face is plastered over all of the university’s promotional material. Half the school has a crush on Jeonghan, the star soccer player. Unfortunately for you and your apparently impossible wish to go home, it also appears that half the school is at this party and fueled with liquid confidence.

“Hey Jeonghan,” one person in particular slurs, appearing in front of you and him magically. Yeah, you think, if I were him I’d want to get out of this party too. Then as if the stranger has come to their senses, they jump back and clasp their hands over their mouth. A blush paints itself all over their face. “So sorry. I must’ve tripped or something…” they laugh awkwardly. Jeonghan does too. You look over at him and find that he looks incredibly uncomfortable.

“It’s fine,” he tells them, holding his hands up, “I gotta go. See you around though.” And Jeonghan’s turning on his heel ready to dash for the door.

“Wait a second!” The person calls, grabbing Jeonghan’s arm before he can slip out of the house. He turns back around begrudgingly. “I was uh I was sort of wondering if you’d like to maybe go out or something—“

You watch them ask out Jeonghan on a date, and well, it’s sort of cute. The stranger clearly harbors a massive crush on Jeonghan. They’re not being rude or pushy, and honestly, even after accounting for the alcohol, they’re more confident and bold than you’d be. You find yourself wanting to congratulate them. But then, with another look at Jeonghan’s face, you feel a burst of pity. You know that look. Jeonghan is going to turn them down.

“I, uh, I’m really flattered but I…” Jeonghan stutters through his words, shooting you a glance asking for help. You just shrug. Suddenly his smirk reappears. He grabs your hand, pulling you to his slide and lifting your joined hands up like a trophy. “I’m actually with them.”

Your teeth clench immediately to keep your mouth from falling open. You stare at Jeonghan, eyes screaming.

“Oh sorry,” the person looks between the two of you, “I didn’t know.”

You stare at Jeonghan, waiting for him to say something and failing to find any words for yourself. But instead of continuing his lie verbally, he decides to act it out even further, bringing your hands up to his lips and pressing the faintest kiss to your knuckle.

That fucker.

“Yeah,” you sigh, grasping at straws for something to say that sounds convincing with your one free hand. “It’s new.” You squeeze Jeonghan’s hand hard enough to know it has to have hurt and promptly drag him out of the house.

Once you’re in his car, safe from all his suitors. You round on him. “You couldn’t have just said no?”

“That was their third time asking me out.”

“And?”

“Turning down people is hard.” He whines, pushing the keys in the car and starting the ignition. “It was just easier to say we’re dating. Plus, you’re in my shirt so it already looks like we just had sex.”

“Or,” you gasp, exasperated, “it looks like I got jungle juice on my shirt, and you just gave me one to wear!”

He gives you a look. “Now, who would believe that?”

You have the sudden desire to dissolve into the seat.

“Anyways,” he says, putting the car in reverse, “where to?”

“East campus. The Austin Complex.”

He makes a triumphant noise while stopping at a red light. “It appears I’m not the only one that’s been telling lies tonight. Not that far you said.”

You gape at him. “My lie is not comparable to yours.”

“Actually I think it is.” He taps a finger to his chin. “In fact, I think it even makes us equal.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

He holds out his pinky as a peace offering. “I’m not moving until you agree.”

“Jeonghan, the light’s green.”

He glances at the green traffic light and proceeds to turn his hazards on in the middle of the fucking road all while keeping his pinky in the exact same spot.

“Are you crazy?”

“Most people don’t think so.”

“People will honk.”

“It’s 1 am.”

You say his name. He says yours. The light turns yellow, and you feel a rush of warmth.

“Fine.” You huff, joining your pinky with his. “We’re equal.”

He passes the light just as it turns red.

—

You haven’t seen Jeonghan since the entire incident. In truth, you’ve been so busy studying for your math quiz with Soonyoung that you almost hadn’t even thought about that night again. Emphasis on almost. However, when you get your score back the following week, the hours you spent studying appear to have been wasted. You slump into a bench outside the lecture hall, holding another barely passing grade to your chest.

And in the midst of your public wallowing, you feel a flick to your forehead.

You yelp and snap your eyes open to Jeonghan who stands before you snickering. “What was that for?”

“Payback.”

You say holding out your pinky as a reminder. “I thought we were even.” He shrugs, sporting a smirk that makes your stomach churn. It should be illegal for someone to look that good with a smirk.

“Excuse me?”

Fuck. Did you say that outloud?

“Nothing.” You quickly mutter, shaking your head. He invites himself to sit down next to you.

“Anyway, what’s wrong with you?”

You groan at the reminder. “Multi.”

“Multivariable calculus?” He asks to which you nod. “Who do you have?”

“Lubinsky.”

Defying all laws of reason and physics, Jeonghan perks up a bit. “Oh, I loved him.”

“His quizzes are impossible.”

“Yeah, but he’s funny.”

You scrunch your noise. “When did you even take multi? Aren’t you a business major?”

He tilts his head at you. “How do you know my major?” You might’ve asked Soonyoung about Jeonghan during one of your study sessions, but you definitely weren’t about to admit that now. Luckily for you, he continues without an answer. “I switched majors last year.”

“Then you must know how much I despise sketching in three axes.” You complain, throwing your head back against the wall.

“Just wait until you get to finding extrema.” Jeonghan hums. You want to shove your head through the damn wall just from the sound of it.

“May my grade rest in peace in that case,” you mutter, fishing through your bag. “Here’s your shirt back.”

He takes it. “So people kind of think we’re dating after the party.”

You can’t help it. You laugh at the look on his face. “Yeah, what did you expect when you said we were together?” He doesn’t say anything. “Don’t worry. I’ll clear the air.”

He furrows his brows at you. “What? No. That’s not what I mean. I…” he hesitates, scratching an area behind his neck. “Well, this past week has been surprisingly calm for me. Not a ton of confessions.” (“Oh, poor Jeonghan,” you murmur.) He looks at you hopefully, “So, I was thinking we keep up the charade.”

You make a noise. “Like fake dating?”

“Yes.”

“Haha, very funny.”

“No, seriously.” He says earnestly. You don’t say anything for a moment just staring at him flabbergasted. He softens, giving you a very soft, “please,” paired with big, brown, pleading eyes.

Goddamn it–those eyes.

You turn your body towards him. “What do I get out of it?”

“I’ll tutor you.” He says, pointing to your quiz grade. You flip the paper upside down. “I got an A in multi.”

“No one makes an A with Lubinsky.”

“Which is exactly why you want me as your tutor.”

You think about it for a moment longer, and, well…

Fake dating Yoon Jeonghan can’t be the worst thing in the world.

—

As you find out during your first session, Jeonghan is not what you’d call a ‘chill’ tutor. You’re both sitting in a far corner of the library, notes splayed out all over the table.

“Do it again.”

“Jeonghan please, we’ve been finding directional derivatives and unit normal vectors for so long now. Let’s take a break.”

He points to your worksheet. “One more.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“I thought you wanted an A.”

“You know, a C isn’t sounding so bad right now.”

“Just do it.”

You groan and set up another integral.

To your complete and utter shock, you’re able to solve the problem all on your own. No clarifying questions to Jeonghan. No flipping through your lecture notes. Just you and the answer.

Jeonghan checks it over, eyes darting between your notebook and his laptop. He pauses for a minute, finger lingering by your boxed, final answer, before very quietly saying, “look at that.” He looks up to you, eyes widened and lips pursed together in a pleasant surprise.

You can barely contain yourself. “It’s right?”

“Well,” he draws out the word, sitting back in his chair and erasing his previous expression. “You still rounded wrong at this step—“

You throw your pencil down. “I’M RIGHT!”

Which unsurprisingly earns you a couple dirty looks from others.

He snickers at your excitement, offering you silent applause at the achievement.

“So can we take a break now?”

He looks at you for a long moment. You stare at him back, shaking your shoulders as if that would convince him of a break. He smiles. “Okay, fine, but only for ten minutes.”

You end up taking it on the roof of the library building, eating an assortment of snacks that you bought from the vending machine and Jeonghan brought from home.

“So, tell me,” you start, grabbing a chip from the bag, “the confessions can’t really be that bad, can they?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean,” you sit up in your chair, stretching out your back, “enough for you to spend your Thursday afternoon doing all this?”

“Ah.” He exhales, sitting down further in his seat and popping a grape in his mouth. “Well, I like to teach.”

“And what about the whole fake dating ruse?”

He shrugs. “It’s easier than being the asshole that says no.”

You lean forward, squinting at him. “I don’t believe that.”

He cocks his head. “No?”

You shake yours. “No.”

“What about you then?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “How come I know nothing about you?”

“How come you haven’t asked?”

He swipes his tongue over his lips briefly, sizing your question up. Quietly, he says, “Touche.” Then leads forward in his seat and asks if you have an ex.

You steal a grape. “Not an official one.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that there was this guy before university, and we were…” you push the grape in your mouth, letting the burst of it give you time to find the right words. They never come. “We were something,” you settle on, “but he just ended up being more trouble than he was worth. Ask Soonyoung. He’s always hated the guy’s guts.”

“I can’t imagine Soonyoung hating anyone.” Jeonghan muses, pushing the tupperware of grapes towards you.

“Yeah, well, Soonyoung hated people who treated others like they were disposable.”

“So why’d you date him then?”

For a moment, you’re taken aback by the question. Replaying the words over and over in your mind looking for a hint of mockery or judgment. You don’t find any. Instead, you find his brows knitted together, and his lips pushed to the side of this mouth. The question is genuine. A wholehearted curiosity that feels so misplaced coming from the guy who has suitors falling at his feet at least once a day. It’s an innocent kind of curiosity that isn’t trying to pry; it’s only trying to understand. And that thought, the very idea that Jeonghan might actually be trying to get to know you, makes your entire body inexplicably shiver.

The curiosity in his voice bends over and touches yours. “What? You’ve never been young and stupid before?”

He shakes his head. “I was so focused on school and soccer when I was younger. I feel like I never gave myself the chance to just do dumb things, date shitty people, etc. etc.”

Gravely, you say. “It’s really not that exciting.”

He laughs. “I know.” His voice dips. “I just wish I had figured that out myself.”

Jeonghan doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it, but he makes this face, this sad-eyed, forced smile face that makes him look so suddenly vulnerable. Like you could tap his shoulder and watch him unravel from head to toe. You feel a rush of pity in the middle of your chest, a quiet urge to reach over and give him all the teenage regrets he never got to have. Instead, you lean towards him and say, “You’re still young. You can still do dumb things. Date shitty people.”

His eyes flit up to you. You notice what a beautiful shade of brown they are. How big they are. How sincerely sad they look. (And you know, somewhere, in a very far corner of your mind, that those eyes will be the ultimate death of you.)

“Well, I don’t know about that last part.” He starts, rubbing his hands against his jeans. “Technically, I’m dating you.”

You place your palm on your chest. “And I swear to be the shittiest fake partner you’ll ever have.”

He smiles. The sun emerges from behind a cloud. And his eyes–you swear to god–they glimmer.

—

You and Jeonghan’s first outing as an official fake couple is back at the frat house. To your surprise Jeonghan stays by your side the entire time. He takes you around the house, gets you a drink, and introduces you to his friends, but you’re quick to shoot down any shock because what else would a fake boyfriend be doing at a party. Although it’s not as easy to calm down the beating of your heart when Jeonghan’s hand finds its way into yours at some point in the night. By the time the party is in full swing, people bursting from every open door and window in the house, you’re already a little tipsy.

You’re getting a refill for your nearly done drink when another girl appears in front of Jeonghan. From the way she’s twirling her hair between her fingers and leaning into one hip, you can tell that, at least from her end, it’s more than just a friendly conversation. But even that doesn’t really explain what makes you act the way you do. Maybe it’s the alcohol, you reason. Or maybe the fact that Jeonghan’s popularity is just as contagious as the rest of him. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s that you’ve gotten a little too invested in this whole fake dating act. Either way, you swallow reason with the last of your drink, strut up to the both of them, and latch yourself to Jeonghan’s side, letting your arm wrap around his. You give the girl a snotty ‘sorry, he’s taken’ before dragging Jeonghan away, giggling into your palm with no intention to return. When you look back at Jeonghan, you find him looking quite amused as well.

“That was good!” He tells you by the time you’re both in the hallway. “But you know what would really seal the deal?”

You’re excited. Fake dating is fun. “What?”

“If we kissed?”

“Oh, please.” Your eyes do a drunken loop de loop. “I’m gonna go get my refill.”

“No, seriously.” He says with a look you can’t quite comprehend. “Look. She’s still watching.”

You look beyond his shoulder and sure enough, the girl is still watching you and him in the hallway. And she looks pissed. Maybe Jeonghan wasn’t that far off with the stalker accusation.

“You see what I have to deal with. Just one kiss. We probably won’t even have to do it again after this.”

“Probably?” You echo.

“Well, yeah, I can’t make any promises.” He shrugs except that you barely hear the words because you’re too focused on taking a tiny step back each time he takes a tiny step towards you. Eventually, the charade ends. Your heel and head meet the wall. His knee meets yours.

You’re painfully aware of your own breathing when you say, “When I said to be young and stupid this is not what I meant.”

He giggles in your face. You can smell the vodka on his breath. Is he drunk? Are you?

“Who’s going to believe we’re dating if we never kiss?”

And well, you can’t really argue with that logic. “Fine, but keep it short.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Do I look like the kind of guy to keep a kiss short?” You snort at that, and when he takes yet another step closer to you, your hands instinctively fly up against his chest. He tangles his fingers between yours and pulls your hands down, resting his forehead against yours. “Hey,” he says except that he’s so close it’s more like he exhales the word and inhales you, “can I kiss you now?”

He lets go of your hands, as if he’s making sure you know you have an out. Your eyes flit up to his, only to find that he’s watching your lips.

“Oh, fuck it,” is what you say before you fist his shirt and pull him in so that his lips meet yours.

And the moment you do all of your previous precautions are thrown out the window because—dang how long has it been since you’ve kissed someone?

Somewhere along the kiss, you lose yourself in the sensation of it, tugging on Jeonghan’s shirt. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in until your bodies are flush against each other. And when he slips his tongue into your mouth you tell yourself you allow it to happen because you’re tipsy or touch starved or both. Although none of those excuses explain why your arms snake around his neck and why your entire body turns to jelly when he moans in your mouth.

“Hey lovebirds,” you hear Soonyoung yell from somewhere thousands and thousands lightyears away, somewhere so far away you barely hear it, “get a room.” You both pull away from the kiss, faces only moving a tiny bit apart. Neither of you try to remove yourselves from the other's arms. He smiles, wide enough that his cheek brushes up against your nose, and it makes you forget where you are. Your ears betray you. You let yourself think he’s talking about the kiss and not the charade when he says, “Thanks for that.”

You throw caution to the window, laughing freely against his face. “Asshole. You knew I wouldn’t say no.”

He steps back, pulling away from your embrace. “Yeah,” he mutters, looking back to the main room, “that should do it.” You follow his eyes to see the girl from earlier whispering to a friend while sneaking glances at you two. You’re reminded of the whole reason you and Jeonghan were kissing in the first place.

He points to your cup. “Shot?”

You laugh—or well at least you try to—but it gets caught in your throat and distorted into a small cough. You swallow. “Yes.”

—

Thankfully, things aren’t awkward between you and Jeonghan after the party, although there’s no real reason for there to be other than the fact that you agreed to fake date him without really thinking about what else it would implicate. In fact, things are sort of easy with Jeonghan. He finds you around campus more often, and you find him too, walking each other to class and grabbing coffee when you both have a spare moment. In the midst of getting a fake boyfriend, you also get a new friend. With Jeonghan’s help, you actually start understanding math enough to complete the homework without having to flip back to the textbook every question. And it’s not too long after the party that you’re planning your next outing as a couple.

—

The stands of the field are absolutely packed with people. You had no idea soccer games rallied this much interest at your school.

“We’re playing a top ranked school apparently,” Soonyoung reads off a sign as you both make your way towards the student section. Luckily, he knows as little about the sport as you do. “So, why exactly did you agree to fake date Jeonghan?”

“He’s tutoring me in multi.” You explain to him, scanning the stands. While walking over to the game, you had told Soonyoung about the whole act, confirming what he already started to suspect when you first suggested going to the soccer game together. (“Drunken makeout I get.” Soonyoung had said. “But going to his games seemed like a stretch.” You shoved him off the sidewalk.)

“At least you’re getting something out of it.” He snorts. “Who are we looking for?”

You show him the text from Jeonghan, telling you to sit with his friend. “Do you know him?”

Soonyoung looks into the crowd. “Him?” He asks, pointing to a guy waving you and him over. You inhale sharply, waving back. “So if it’s fake, why is Jeonghan having you meet his friends?” Soonyoung asks as you head over.

“He has his reasons.” You offer, having asked a similar question yourself. You reach the stand where his friend is seated, crossing past the others in the row and gently apologizing as you bump into dozens of knees.

“Hi, I’m Joshua.” Jeonghan’s friend introduces himself as you and Soonyoung take your seats. You return the greeting, introducing yourself to him. Looking around the student section, you notice everyone else dressed in school merchandise. “Was I supposed to wear school colors for this?”

Soonyoung gives you a long look. Then just laughs in your face.

“Asshole.” You grumble quietly. “Could’ve said something.”

Joshua laughs as well, although much less in-your-face than Soonyoung’s. “I’m surprised Jeonghan didn’t give you like a jersey to wear or something.”

You had meant the asshole in question to be Soonyoung, not Jeonghan, but you don’t really have the heart to correct him. Instead, while waiting for the game to start, you ask, “How do you know Jeonghan?”

“Oh, we met freshman year. We both rushed the frat together, but I dropped after one semester.” Soonyoung pops in then, telling Joshua about when he rushed, and the two boys talk about other people they both mutually know. As one does.

They run out of people after a person named Jihoon. Joshua turns back to you. “How did you and Jeonghan meet? I haven’t even gotten the full story yet.”

“We met through Soonyoung, technically, I guess. At the house during a party. Soonyoung let me into his bathroom.”

Joshua nods, and with a playful lilt adds, “not a stalker, are you?”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and turn back to Soonyoung on the other side of you. “I hope you know I’m never beating the stalker allegations because of you.”

Soonyoung smiles smugly at you.

“No, I’m kidding,” Joshua says through a laugh hidden behind his palm. “I just know how paranoid Jeonghan is about that stuff now.”

The wording pokes at a corner of your mind. “Now?”

Joshua nods, solemnly almost. “He actually had one last year. Didn’t end up being anything seriously endangering luckily. But he barely left his dorm for the rest of the semester after all was said and done.”

You think back to your conversation with Jeonghan on the roof of the library. You feel a familiar pang of pity bloom in your chest. He never got to just be young. Outloud, you hear yourself saying, “stupid.”

Joshua leans towards you. “What?”

You wave it off, and the crowd erupts into cheer. Everybody starts standing up, yelling and jumping and whooping. You hesitate for too long obviously. Soonyoung pulls you up by your arm. You see the team rush the field and the crowd gets impossibly louder. You look for Jeonghan among the players scanning each of them until you find him towards the left side of the field, warming up or something. You’re not really sure. Either way, you hear yourself start cheering when you find him, hands cupping around your mouth. The game starts soon enough with Joshua explaining to you and Soonyoung which position Jeonghan plays and what the hell is happening each time a player receives a card. After the first 15 minutes, you actually get a pretty good understanding of the whole thing.

The first half comes to a close with the opposing team up by one goal and Jeonghan’s team looking exhausted and dispirited.

“Hey, I gotta head out.” Soonyoung tells you once everything has settled down for halftime. “Still have to finish that chem lab due tonight.”

You grimace at the reminder of the report. “Good luck. It took me 5 hours.”

He gives you a miserable thumbs up. Then, turns his attention to Joshua. “It was nice to meet you.”

Joshua returns the sentiment. “I’ll see you at Tim’s once you’re done with the report though, right?”

Soonyoung’s lips turn to a fine line. “I, well, it’s a funny story but uh…”

“He’s banned from Tim’s.” You finish for him.

Joshua does not hide his shock. Soonyoung just shrugs and walks off. Joshua turns to you, exasperated. “But it’s the only bar in town.”

You inhale, “And Soonyoung is the type to get impulsively banned from it for the rest of college.” The answer doesn’t seem to do much of anything for Joshua’s profound confusion. “What’s at Tim’s tonight?”

“Oh, the team always goes there after games. They normally invite some friends too. Whoever can make it out basically.” You nod at his explanation, watching as people leave the stands then return, holding steaming, paper cartons of food. God, that smells good. You crane your neck to see. Are those corn dogs? “Did Jeonghan not tell you about it?”

“What?” He pulls you out of a trance of your own. “Oh, yeah, yeah. I think he mentioned it. I probably just forgot.”

Joshua chuckles politely. “So are you coming?”

Oh crap. “Uh, well…” A million lies run through your mind, chasing past one another, zigzagging in your brain. You have homework. You have other plans. You and Jeonghan aren’t even actually dating. Well—a million lies and one truth you guess. Either way, they all fizzle to nothing. Jeonghan didn’t tell you about the tradition at Tim’s. He probably doesn’t even want you there. So what the hell are you supposed to tell his best friend?

Luckily, you never have to figure that out. Fanfare erupts through the crowd, the announcer sounds throughout the entire field. “Oh the game’s restarting,” you mutter. Joshua is either genuinely disinterested in your response or just polite enough to not ask about it again. You have a crummy feeling it’s the latter.

The second half of the game is much more intense than the first. Your school’s team comes out blazing, scoring a goal in the first ten minutes in an insane effort led by the player with a 7 on his back. And the crowd, you included, absolutely lose their shit. You’re jumping up and down on the stands, screaming at the top of your lungs, voice lost among the rest. The team rushes to the right corner of the field closest to the student section, colliding in hugs and jumps and screaming maybe even louder than the hundreds of you in the stands. You watch Jeonghan in the celebration, hair matted down with sweat, mouth ajar in a soundless cheer, embracing a teammate before ditching him to literally jump on top of another. Your yells turn to laughs. And before you know it, the game is back on, all players racing across the field in a mad dash. The ball goes flying. Penalty cards flying to nearly every player at least once. The entire student section is at the edge of their seats. Time seems to fly by with unified chants filling your ears and throat. There’s only 10 minutes left. The game is still in a tie, and you really don’t feel like sitting here for the extra time. Then, someone starts singing the school’s fight song. Eventually, the whole section is singing it. You included. It ignites something in the team.

The opposing team has the ball, dribbling it across the field and passing it back and forth. Out of nowhere, one of your school’s players appears right next to the opponent with the ball. He kicks the ball out from under the other player, taking him and the rest of the stands by surprise. The ball rolls from under his knees to another of your school’s players. Jeonghan’s teammate is in action immediately, sprinting away with the ball to the opposite side of the field, feet flying faster than your mind can even comprehend. And just as one of the opposing team’s members closes in on him, he punts the ball in the air and it flies and flies and flies. Your heart lurches. There’s no mistaking it–the ball is aimed for Jeonghan. 7 minutes left. Jeonghan receives the ball perfectly, immediately racing away with it towards the goal. An opponent chases after him, forcing him to head nearer and nearer to the touchlines. It all happens so fast. The other player kicks his feet out to steal the ball. Jeonghan crosses the ball over to another teammate. The teammate receives it with his head. He dribbles it forward for half a second and then shoots. Time nearly stops when he does. The goalie throws their entire body to block the ball, and every present body watches, stupefied, as the ball blows right past the goalie’s head and lands squarely within the goal.

And if you thought the previous goal’s celebration was loud, this one’s is deafening. The entire stadium roars in pride. Your school won. Jeonghan won. And you can’t stop fucking smiling.

—

Joshua convinces you to wait for Jeonghan and the rest of the team at Tim’s with him. You do. For matters of fake dating but also because you could really use a beer. Conversation with Joshua is fun and light. By the time you’re both on your second round, his politeness dims to tease you for your drink of choice. You see now why he’s one of Jeonghan’s closest friends.

There’s commotion towards the entrance. You turn your heads towards it and watch Jeonghan’s team rumble through the tiny door, yelling at god knows what and rushing to the bar.

Joshua stands to go say hi. You follow him, walking slightly behind. Jeonghan finds you before you both find him. He tackles Joshua first, hugging him from the side, and literally ‘whooping’ into his ear. Joshua smacks at his face at first, but eventually joins him in the repeated ‘whooping’ jumping up and down in celebration. Then Jeonghan sees you. The whooping fades. He stares.

You swallow.

“Yah!” He exclaims, releasing Joshua and pointing a finger at your shirt. “I thought I told you to wear the jersey I gave you.”

Your face drops. Whatever happened to ‘hi’, ‘hello’, ‘how are you’?

Joshua says something about the bathroom and walks to the back of the bar.

You shake your head at the remaining boy. “It’s a little bit concerning how good you are at lying, you know.”

“Well, we can’t have people suspecting us.” He retorts, stepping closer to you as someone passes behind him.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” You ask, quiet enough for no one else to hear, face scrunching. “I didn’t know what to say to Joshua earlier, but I can definitely make up a lie if you want to just–”

“Are you kidding?” He grabs you by the shoulders, shaking you back and forth. “I want you here! We have to celebrate. This was the biggest game of the season, and we won it!” Then, with that same crooked smile you noticed upon first meeting, he adds, “Plus, you’re not very good at lying.”

You scoff. “Even now, you have the capacity for assholery.”

His eyebrows zip together. “I don’t think that’s a word.”

“It could be.”

Someone pats Jeonghan on the back, handing him a drink. Jeonghan asks what it is. The other person tells him to just drink it. Jeonghan does so begrudgingly. You recognize the person to be player number 7.

“Hi, I’m Seungcheol,” number 7 says to you, holding out his hand. You shake it, introducing yourself and congratulating him on the game.

“Hey, is assholery a word?” Jeonghan asks his teammate, watching your face contort through a thousand different variations of annoyance and disbelief.

Seungcheol looks between the two of you. “Uh, no. Don’t think so.”

“Ha!” Jeonghan wags a finger in your face. “You owe me a drink.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but you head towards the bar with Jeonghan anyways, where you find Joshua again ordering the three of you a round of shots. “No, no,” he insists, when you try to tell him that you’re already buying drinks, “I owe Jeonghan a drink anyways.”

And as you find out throughout the course of the night, apparently every other patron at Tim’s owes Jeonghan a drink. You lose count of how many times you’ve heard him say so after your third beer. Joshua makes his exit soon after that and conveniently right before the team starts singing the fight song again. You start dreaming of bed when a guy you recognize as number 3 gets on a chair and starts leading the crowd.

Your phone buzzes.

Soonyoung [1:23 AM]: finished the report :0

Soonyoung [1:23 AM]: finally

Soonyoung [1:24 AM]: how’s tim’s

You [1:24 AM]: did you know they had a karaoke machine?

Soonyoung [1:25 AM]: do you not remember how i got banned in the first place

You [1:25 AM]: sore subject mb

You [1:27 AM]: damn how’d you finish the report so fast

You [1:27 AM]: you only started it after the game right

Soonyoung [1:28 AM]: u know me xD

An odd feeling settles in your stomach as they start the last stanza of the fight song. You shove your phone in your pocket and ask for the check.

By 2 am, the celebration is finally winding down, and the entire team is collectively too drunk to stand. “Come on, Jeonghan,” you pull him away as he says goodbye to his friends for the millionth time. “Let’s go home.”

He finally relents, turning away from his friends and throwing both his arms over your shoulders, hugging you from the back. “Let’s go to yours.”

“Mine? Why?”

“It’s closer.” Then after a moment, he bumps his chin against your shoulder and adds, “Plus, I wanna see your room.”

“Fine,” you huff and start walking. Jeonghan releases himself from your back, electing to walk on his own until you realize he’s too much of a wanderer to be unattached, drifting off to the edge of the sidewalk or in the wrong direction every chance he gets. He asks you to carry him. You settle for holding his hand. The two of you walk quietly back to your dorm. That is until Jeonghan starts humming the fight song again. You snap. “Is that the only song you guys know tonight?”

He stops humming and apologizes. You don’t say anything back. Then, very quietly, sounding so infuriatingly innocent, he says, “I didn’t mean to get this drunk.”

You’re an asshole. “No. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m just a little… upset right now.”

He burps. “Because of me?”

The look on his face when he says it pulls a laugh from between your lips. “No. Not because of you.” You make a right onto your street, dragging Jeonghan along as he tries to take a left. “Anyway, I thought student athletes weren’t supposed to drink.”

“No, we’re not supposed to get caught drinking.” Jeonghan holds out his hand in front of him, as if to say ‘stop’ to something invisible to you. “Very different.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Either way, I don’t drink that much.”

You scoff, stopping in front of the door to your building. “What do you mean? You drank last weekend.”

He shakes his head. “That was a special occasion.”

“And the occasion was…?”

He looks you dead in the eye.

“You make me nervous.”

Then, he turns around and vomits into the bushes behind him.

Once you get him to your apartment and in your bathroom, you leave him to vomit out the alcohol. Returning after the retching sounds recede and you’ve changed into pjs. He’s seated on the floor beside the toilet, eyes closed and head resting against the wall. You sit on the other side. Thank god, you cleaned this bathroom yesterday. “How do you feel?” You ask him.

He inhales. “Much better now that I…” He gestures to the toilet.

“Here.” You hand him a glass of water.

He opens his eyes and takes it, drinking from it slowly. “Sorry I got so drunk.”

“You already apologized 30 times on the way up here.” You remind him.

“But I’m really sorry.”

“And I really don’t mind.”

He considers that for a long moment. “You sure?”

You lean forward. “I’m sure. More water?”

He shakes his head, wordlessly eyeing your pajama pants. You look down at your snoopy pants. You hadn’t thought too hard about your choice of bottoms when you changed. “Cute.” He mutters, smiling at them.

You mumble back a ‘thanks’.

“So, what’d you think of the game?”

You tell him honestly how much fun you had watching them play, giving him every reaction you had to every move made and all your unfiltered opinions on the refs. He listens intently, filling you in on all the thoughts that ran through his head while they were playing and every conversation that happened on the sidelines.

“Thanks for coming.” He tells you once you’ve both exhausted all opinions relating to the game itself. “And for meeting Joshua and coming out to Tim’s afterwards and then getting me out of Tim’s too.”

“Jeonghan, it’s really not that big of a deal. And Joshua was a lot of fun to hang out with.”

“Hey, don’t get too attached.” He warns. “I’m the one you’re fake dating.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“So, then, as your fake boyfriend,” he gulps down the last of the water, “are you going to tell me what you were so upset about?”

You exhale, flexing your fingers. “It’s stupid.”

“And here I was thinking we had made a pact to be young and dumb.” You run your tongue over your top row of teeth, holding back a smile. “So, what happened?”

“I just got this text from Soonyoung that he finished this one assignment. And, I don’t know, I just felt so ridiculous because it took me so much longer than him to do.”

“Which assignment? The chem lab?”

You don’t remember telling Jeonghan about it. “Uh, yeah. How did you–”

“Man, who cares if it took you longer? I know Soonyoung, and I know you, and I bet yours is a million times better than his. No offense to Soonyoung, but I’m pretty sure he’d agree anyways.”

“Okay, you’re drunk.”

“That may be true, but it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re brilliant.”

Something about the way he says it, how steady his voice is maybe or the way he refuses to look away, forces you to see how much he believes it. But even that, doesn’t do much to change what you think.

“What are you talking about? I wouldn’t even be passing multi if it weren’t for you.” Your voice cracks as you say the words, making it all come out sounding much sadder than you had intended it to. You hope he doesn’t notice.

“That’s really not true.” You can’t even trust yourself to respond to him. He pouts. “Are you upset again?”

“A little.”

“I’m sorry. Let’s drop it.”

“Gladly.” Then, after a moment, you laugh at how silly it all is.

“First fight of the relationship.” He gives you your second half smile of the night. “I think we should hug it out.”

Your body reacts to the words before you do. “I disagree–”

“Did you just cringe?”

“–you smell like vomit.”

“Well, do you have clothes for me?”

“No, but I have a couch.”

He holds his index finger up. “I’ll take it.”

—

(When you wake up the next morning, Jeonghan’s gone. You open your phone and find 2 more apologies and 3 more thank you’s from him.

You try to ignore the twinge of disappointment.)

—

When the third weekend of fake dating rolls around, you admittedly are a bit tired of going to parties and getting drunk. So when Jeonghan asks what the plans are, you suggest he say that he’s taking you out on a date instead.

As such, you’ve spent nearly the entire day in bed. You’re heating up some water on the stove to make ramen when you get a text from Jeonghan saying he’s five minutes away. You stare at the text. The fuck does that mean?

Unsurprisingly, it ends up meaning that he was literally five minutes away. You open the door when he knocks and stare at him standing in the doorway.

“What are you wearing?” Is the first thing he says. You look down at your outfit. “You should’ve told me this was going to be a sweats kind of date before I put real clothes on.”

“Date?”

“Don’t look so surprised, it was your idea.” Jeonghan reminds you, strutting into your kitchen.

“No, no.” You say, returning to your boiling water. “My idea was to tell people we’re going on a date. Like as a cover.”

“Oh.” He falls down onto your couch. “Well I’m here so get dressed there’s this new ramen place I wanna try.”

You sigh, turning the stovetop off before trudging to your room to change.

The ‘date’ ends up being quite nice. You discuss a study plan to prepare for your math midterm over a much yummier bowl of ramen than you had planned on consuming today. Afterwards, you walk the streets of downtown, only intending to window shop. However, now, standing in a small boutique, Jeonghan tries to convince you to buy matching necklaces.

“Come on, they’re so cute.”

“We don’t need matching necklaces, Jeonghan.”

“A real couple would definitely have matching necklaces.”

“Good thing we’re not one.”

“Fine then. Guess I’ll just stop tutoring you in math too. You know Lubinsky’s midterms are almost as hard as his finals, right?”

You grab two of the necklaces and turn to the cashier. “How much?” You swear you hear Jeonghan whoop from behind you.

—

“Hey,” Jeonghan whispers, “we’re here.” You open your eyes slowly, not even registering that you fell asleep on the ride back to campus after the date-but-not-date. “You drool when you sleep by the way.”

And that wakes you up. You wipe whatever drool is left on your mouth, muttering a small and embarrassed ‘shut up’.

“What are you doing for the rest of your day?” He asks as you gather your things from his car.

“Absolutely nothing. Today’s the last day to rot before midterm prep starts.” You tell him, looking for your wallet. “What about you?”

“Avoiding a mixer at the house tonight.” He reaches into the center console and hands you the leather slip.

You take the wallet gratefully. “Wanna join me? We can make some tea. Watch a movie.”

He puts the car in park. “I know just what we should watch.”

And that’s how you end up on your couch with Jeonghan, two emptied mugs sitting on the coffee table, blanket draped over your legs, and the worst movie you’ve seen to date playing in the background.

“Wow, this movie sucks ass.”

“This,” Jeonghan gestures passionately to the screen, “is cinema.” You clasp your hands together as if in prayer. He takes a double take at the motion. “What are you doing?”

“I’m thanking god that your major is business and not film.” He immediately smacks apart your hands. “Don’t lie.” You say gasping for air between laughs. “This movie is objectively not good.”

His tongue peeks out between his lips, you practically see the smiling begging to emerge on his face. “Okay, so it might not be all that it was hyped up to be, but–”

“Ha!” You point a finger in his face. “I knew you hated it.” He slumps into the couch, pulling the blanket up to his chin. “Do you want more tea?” You ask. He soundlessly nods, refusing to move his eyes from the tv screen.

You stand to make some, grabbing both mugs from the table. “So, do you not have a roommate?” Jeonghan questions, as you pour water from the kettle into the mugs.

You look to the second, empty room of your apartment style dorm. “Actually, no. There was supposed to be someone there, but they moved or dropped out at the start of the year and the school never filled the room.”

“Ah.” Jeonghan clicks, nodding as if finally putting together the last piece of a puzzle “So, that’s why you’re so friendless.”

You return to the couch with full mugs. “I am not friendless.” He makes a face. “Really. I have friends.”

“Other than Soonyoung?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, name them.” You kick him under the blanket. “Fine. You have friends.” (“I have friends.”) “But how come you never talk about hanging out with them?”

You exhale slowly, sinking further into the couch. “I just didn’t do too well in school last semester, so I promised myself I would focus on classes this time around. And, I don’t know, I guess I just got so caught up in that and haven’t really been making the time or effort for hangouts.”

He tilts his head. “You know, I feel like there’s a world where you can do well in school while also maintaining your friendships. I mean we see each other regularly.”

“That’s because half of the time we’re studying.”

He gives you a look. “You know what I mean.”

You sigh, considering his point. Maybe at one point you would have thought the same. Last semester you even tried to have it all–the friends, the social life, the grades. But in the end, you dropped the ball. You can’t afford to make those same mistakes. “I just don’t think that world exists for me.”

He finally looks away from the tv and gives his full attention to you. His eyes seem to linger on every turn in your face. Quietly, he says, “So that’s what it is.” He doesn’t offer an explanation immediately. Instead, his chest deflates in one long exhale, and you smother the voice in your head that’s begging you to ask for one. And there’s this conviction in his voice, this breathtaking finality, when he says, “When are you going to believe me when I say that you’re one of the smartest people I know?” that scares the living shit out of you.

He looks at you again, and you swear to god, his eyes fall right through your frame. You swallow. “What about you?”

His eyebrows raise. “What about me?”

“Who are your friends? How do you spend all your time apart from classes, soccer, the frat, tutoring me and–oh my god, nevermind, new question. Do you even sleep?”

He takes a sip from the tea. “Don’t forget the business honor society. I’ll be the treasurer next fall.”

You squint at him. “Why?”

And like it’s the simplest, most obvious thing in the world he says, “oh, well, they asked.”

Suddenly, you’re reminded of all the times you’ve seen him get asked out on dates followed by every time he’s failed to say no. “Jeonghan,” you turn to him, setting down your mug. (“oh, this is serious, okay.”) You ignore him. “Can you not say no to people?”

He blows a raspberry. “I can say no. Ask me something.”

“Uhhhh,” you rack your brain, “how about–let’s go to the beach next weekend.”

The closest beach is 5 hours away, and yet he has the audacity to say, “Wait, that sounds like fun though.”

“I thought you hated the ocean.”

“Yeah, but maybe it’d be fun with you.”

You shake your head, muttering how impossible he is. The end credits of the movie finally plays.

“I should head out.” Jeonghan says, removing himself from under the blanket. You nod, grabbing the mugs of tea and bringing them to the kitchen. He follows you to the door. You both exchange the usual ‘this was fun’, ‘let’s do it again’, ‘I’ll see you later’ that ends every hangout you’ve had in college. But then, unlike every other person you’ve held the door open for as they leave, after Jeonghan says his final goodbye, he gives you a peck on the lips.

Did that just happen?

Your fingers touch against your lips. Oh my god, it did.

He blinks. “Sorry. I, uh, I don’t know why I just,” he points to your lips, swallowing, “lol. We’re always pretending and then now. And you. Okay, well, anyways, I’ll leave.”

He turns and doesn’t look back. You hear a ‘bye’ sound from the hallway.

And it’s only by the time he’s probably halfway home that it hits: You’ve never seen Jeonghan flustered like that.

—

The first day of midterm prep is brutal. You spend the entire night in the library, studying for hours on end. And once an hour, on the dot it seems, you hear Jeonghan’s voice in your head. There’s a world where you can do well in school while also maintaining your friendships. That very night you text your friends, asking if they want to join you in one of the library study rooms you have booked every evening this week. They do, excited to hear from you again and for the gentle encouragement to get a head start on studying. You hate to admit that Jeonghan was right, but goddammit he was. You have a blast with your friends. You had barely even realized how long you’d gone without seeing them and how much you missed them. By the time your Thursday afternoon tutoring with Jeonghan comes back around, you’re still on track with the study plan you created over ramen, and you have exciting news for him.

“A birthday party?” Jeonghan says, voice carefully devoid of the disdain you must know he feels.

“Yeah, they heard through whoever that we’re dating, and now they all want you to come.”

“But a birthday party?” He repeats. This time not trying to hide anything.

“Oh come on. I went to the game for you.”

“Yeah, but the game was fun.”

“This will be fun too!” You say in what you hope is an encouraging way.

“Fine. But promise you won’t ditch me for your friends.”

“You’re so dramatic.” You mutter. “But yes, I promise.”

That Friday night Jeonghan meets you at your apartment and the two of you head over to the party together.

Halfway down the hallway to your friend’s apartment, Jeonghan suddenly halts. “Shit, should I have brought something?”

“Like what?”

“A gift? Wine? I don’t know.”

“Jeonghan, it’s a party. Don’t overthink it.” You tell him, opening the door to your friend’s apartment.

You step into her entryway and immediately feel like you’ve been transported into another world. The lights are all off save for some LED lights wrapped around the living room ceiling. An assortment of stacked red solo cups, yak-worthy bottles of vodka, and seltzers take over all available kitchen counter space. Some old pop song from an artist you know your friend loves plays loudly from the tv, reverberating through every pair of ears shoved into this tiny apartment. You inhale. The air reeks distinctly of college. You love it.

“Oh my god, there’s even people on the balcony.” Jeonghan whispers in your ears. You pivot your head around to look at him. He looks back at you, unassuming. “What?”

This entire scene is one you’re quite familiar with, having spent many nights just like this in previous semesters. But as you watch Jeonghan gape at the amount of people fitted into the kitchen alone, you figure he might not be as acquainted with this. “Yoon Jeonghan, is this your first apartment party?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Is it not yours?”

But before you can tell him all about the life you used to live before him, your friends find you attacking you with hugs and introducing themselves to Jeonghan.

Jenny, the birthday girl in question, sloppily points at both of you and says, “I’ve been drinking since noon. You need to catch up.”

After a minute of half-hearted protest, you oblige, heading over to the kitchen area. You grab two cups, handing Jeonghan one. “There’s soda over there if you’re not drinking tonight,” you tell him, pointing to the area beside the sink where a line of mixers await.

He looks over at the bottles, then looks back at you. “Are you drinking?”

“Yes!” Your friend Daniel yells from over the music. You just shrug, reaching for one of the handles. “I guess so.”

Jeonghan inhales sharply, holding out his cup for you to pour. “I’ll have what you’re having then.”

You hesitate, open bottle hovering over the lip of his cup. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Why?”

You frown. “I was thinking about what you said after the game about how you don’t drink that much, and I don’t want you to drink just because I am. I can not drink too.”

He pushes his cup up. “What was it you said earlier? It’s a party. Don’t overthink it.”

Then he gives you that crooked half smile that you’ve come to know so well. You pour him a drink and pour yourself one too. You turn back to your friends, holding up your cup for a cheers.

“Wait, wait, what are we cheersing to?” Daniel asks, grabbing his cup from behind him and holding it up, tapping on Jenny’s shoulder for her to do the same.

It’s Jeonghan who answers. Looking straight at you, he holds his cup up high and says, “To friends.”

You bring the drink up to your lips smiling, watching him watching you. All four of you down your drinks. The drink is absolutely terrible, burning a path down your throat all the way down. Jeonghan hands you another cup, whispering ‘it’s coke’ with an equally pained expression on his face. You take it gratefully.

“God,” Jenny says, placing a hand on her chest while watching the exchange between you and Jeonghan, “they’re like an old married couple already. How have we missed all this?”

“I know.” Daniel says, shaking his head. “I can still barely believe it.”

You glare at him. “Hey, what’s so hard to believe?”

They both ignore you, turning their attention to Jeonghan instead.

“So, we’ve heard all the boring–how you guys met, first date–sort of stuff, but we want to know the juicy details–”

“Jenny, don’t you have other guests to attend to or–”

“Yeah,” Daniel joins in, “like what’s your favorite thing about them?”

You turn to Jeonghan immediately. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“My favorite part,” Jeonghan starts, ignoring your plea to not humor them and tapping a finger on his chin in thought. He must find it after a moment, pausing the tapping and stealing a glance your way. “Probably how much fun I have with them.” He says to your friends. “I feel like we’re always laughing together or just having a good time. I’ve never been able to talk to someone as easily as I do with them. Like you know how when you get towards the end of a really good book, and you just can’t put it down, pushing everything else to the side to keep reading. Hanging out with them is like that.” Turning back to look at you, he adds, “I never want it to end.”

You hold his gaze while Jenny and Daniel erupt into a series of awes and exclamations. Deep in your gut, you know that you should be focusing on the kind smile on his face or the sudden rapidity in your heartbeat, but instead, more cruelly, you wonder how much of that was a lie he made up to appease the role of your fake boyfriend.

You turn to pour yourself another drink. He holds his cup out as well. You pour for two.

“You okay?” He asks, pouring some fruit punch into both your cups as well.

You nod. You have no reason to be upset. So taking a sip of the drink, you decide you’re not. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“We should play a game,” he says, taking a sniff of your jointly made concoction.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, like…” He looks around the apartment. “We have to drink every time we see someone kissing.”

“What kind of rule is that?”

“No. It’ll be fun.” He says, scanning the apartment again. He sucks in air between his teeth. “Damn, I thought there’d be more kissing than this for some reason.”

You laugh at his cluelessness, and then lean in to kiss his cheek. “There.” You say, clinking your cup against his. “Now, we can drink.”

He taps a finger to the tip of his nose twice, then points it at you, before taking two large gulps of his drink.

The game actually does a good job of getting you and Jeonghan drunk once Jenny catches wind if it and starts giving out birthday kisses to whoever will take one. After a while, you make the executive decision that you need a break and escape to the bathroom to piss. When you exit back into the hallway off the living room, Jeonghan is there, leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for you. He hands you your cup back. “Your friends are terrible, terrible enablers,” he says, motioning for you to drink up while taking a drink himself. You whimper, leaning against the wall beside him and readmitting the dreaded liquid to your body.

“So,” you bump your shoulder against his, “are you having fun?”

He shifts his entire body to face you, shoulder resting against the wall, back turned to the entire party. He puts his face right in front of yours, narrows his eyes at you playfully, and says, “did you even listen to what I said?”

You put a hand on his shoulder. Just to have something between his body and yours. “What?”

He grins cheekily, letting out a puff of air that smells like cherry. “I always have fun with you.”

You laugh. Then in a voice sober you would be embarrassed of, you say, “And you never want it to end?”

He sticks his tongue out just barely, laughing into your neck. “And I never want it to end.”

You kiss him.

You don’t stop to think about what it might mean tomorrow or even in the next hour. You don’t stop to think about the fact that you’re too drunk to be initiating kisses or the possibility that he is. You don’t stop to think about anything, other than how much you love the sound of his laugh and how badly you want to feel his lips on yours again.

The kiss starts slowly, a shy orchestration of lips and breath. Your nose bumps against his, and he pulls away. He looks at you with those damn eyes, like it’s the first time all over again. And for some reason you can’t explain you bitterly think that it was always going to end like this.

He cups his free hand against your cheek and pulls you back in. Your lips meet in an open-mouthed kiss that has nothing slow and shy about it. No. It’s sloppy, hurried, and hungry. It’s tongue and teeth, crashing and colliding over and over again. It’s your body against his, every rise of your chest battling against his You wrap your free hand against his torso, pulling him impossibly closer. His hand moves from where it was holding your face to travel over the back of your head and your neck, sliding halfway down your back before pulling forward to run from your waist down to your hip. It lingers there for a moment before continuing further to grip the back of your thigh, pulling your knee up the side of his leg and holding it there against his hip.

A commotion sounds from the living room. “Oh shit.” You say breathlessly, pulling away from him. “I think she’s going to pop the champagne.”

“Okay.” He breathes, before kissing you again. You laugh in his mouth, whispering his name and pushing a hand against his chest. Finally, he lets go of your leg. You lead him back to the rest of the party where everyone is crowding around the balcony entrance. You and Jeonghan stand in the living room, watching from the window as Jenny struggles to pop the cork. She gets it after a moment, yelping at the sudden burst and spraying it over the edge of the balcony. Once the champagne dies down enough to not be overflowing, she brings the bottle to her lips and chugs. Everyone counts.

1! Jeonghan steps closer to you, wrapping his arms around your torso and hugging you from the back. You have to remind yourself to catch your breath.

2! He rests his chin on your shoulder. Without even thinking about it, you rest your head against his. His voice is a warm breath on your neck.

3! You recall what he said to your friends at the start of the party and again to you right before the kiss. Did he mean it? Does he really not want this to end?

4! Your eyes glance over at his. He looks happy. He looks like he’s finally given himself the chance to be young and stupid, which from the start, is all you ever wanted for him. So then why does it make you feel so suddenly grief-stricken?

5! “Why didn’t you tell Joshua about us?” You ask him quietly, voice drowned out by the counting for everyone other than him.

6! He angles his chin towards you. “What do you mean? He knows we’re dating.”

7! “No, I mean why didn’t you tell him that it’s fake.”

8! He stands up straight. Fuck the counting. You turn to look at him. “He’s your best friend, isn’t he?”

9! He looks at you carefully. “Did you tell Soonyoung that it’s all been fake?”

10! You haven’t even answered him yet, but somehow, he already knows what you’re going to say.

11! “Yes.” And even alcohol couldn’t have hidden the distinct look of betrayal painted all over his face.

12! He looks down into his cup and chuckles darkly. “Why did we just kiss?”

13! You swallow. Shit. “Someone was looking at you, like–well, you know what like.”

14! He doesn’t say anything. You recount his words back to him. “Sealing the deal, remember.”

15! His eyes bore into yours. How could you have been so stupid?

16! Please, you want to beg, say something.

17! He shakes his head, smiling emptily. “Tell your friends it was nice to meet them.”

18! He doesn’t wait to hear if you have anything left to say. He turns, and you watch him disappear from the party.

The rest of the numbers blur in your head.

—

(That night you had called Soonyoung, sobbing over the phone, feeling more drunk then, in your apartment than you had at any other point that night.

“What’s wrong?” Alarm was flush in his voice. “What happened? Are you okay?”

The only thing Soonyoung could even make out was a very sad, very quiet, “I ruined it.”)

—

You haven’t talked to Jeonghan since Jenny’s party. He hasn’t texted you either. Staring at your upcoming midterm on Thursday and the extra study session with Jeonghan scheduled for Wednesday, you feel, quite lamely, mocked by your own calendar. But more than anything, you’re mad that he’s left you to study all alone the week of your midterm. You’re mad that you’re so busy replaying that night in your head, you can barely pay attention to the practice tests. You’re mad that, right now, sitting at the spot you guys always sat at in the library, you don’t have him. And you’re terrified of the creeping thought that you never really did.

By the time the midterm does come around, you’re exhausted. Not from studying or lack of sleep, but just from the sheer willpower it’s taken all week to not think about Jeonghan. You feel oddly calm going into the exam, the usual anxious chatter of students around you and rattling of chairs and pencils, not freaking you out as much as it normally would. You take the midterm, one question at a time, just as Jeonghan instructed you to do with every homework and every quiz. And then, 40 minutes in, you finish. Astonishingly, you even have enough time left to check over your work. So you do, fixing minor rounding and calculation errors, until you’re faced again with a completed exam and 15 minutes left.

You get to do something you haven’t done since high school: you turn it in early.

—

You spend the rest of that day in between your bed and your couch, struggling even more now than before to ignore thoughts of Jeonghan and your last conversation with him. For the past several weeks, Thursday afternoons were monopolized by Jeonghan, but today, watching the sun set outside your window, you’ve spent it all alone. The finality of what happened last weekend finally hits you: you might never speak to Jeonghan again. You really did ruin it. Suddenly, the urge to weep overcomes you. You turn on the tv instead, looking for a movie to watch. And of course it must be fate's petty joke on you that the first movie that pops up is the one you watched with Jeonghan after your date. You groan into your pillow before switching to something else.

By the time the movie is almost over and the sun has fully set, your phone rings. You had been checking it obsessively earlier and had therefore set it a bit farther away from where you were sitting. But at the sound of the ring, you’re ashamed to admit that you literally leapt for it. Your mind reads the caller id and is instantly flooded with an odd mix of relief and anxiety. Jeonghan is calling. Holy shit, Jeonghan is calling.

Your voice is shaky when you answer. “Hello?”

“Hey, this is Jeonghan’s partner right?” Your mouth parts at the voice that most definitely does not belong to Jeonghan. Who is this man? Why does he have Jeonghan’s phone? Why does it hurt your heart so much when he calls you Jeonghan’s partner? You must sit in your shock for too long because the mystery caller speaks again, sounding somewhat annoyed. “This is Seungcheol from the team. This is who I think it is, right? Because your number was saved as ‘my cutie’ with like a million heart emojis, so if not, this is about to get really awkward.” You have no idea how to respond to that. Finally, Seungcheol says your name. “This is you, right?”

You inhale sharply. “Yeah, uhm, sorry yes. Is everything alright? Aren’t you guys at practice right now?”

“Yeah, well we’re about to end, but here’s the thing…” Seungcheol then explains how terribly Jeonghan’s been playing this week, overly aggressive, missing every pass, fucking up every cross. And today, halfway through practice he hurt his shoulder and the coach sat him out entirely, forcing him to sit on the sidelines and just watch. Safe to say, this did not go over well with him, and he’s been laying down on the bench head buried in his arms, snapping at everyone who approaches him ever since. Seungcheol had to use a fake emergency bathroom break as a chance to run away to the locker room and make this call. “Do you know what’s going on with him?”

Of course you know, and it’s all your fault. You really did ruin everything with one kiss. “I–”

“Fuck, I’m running out of time. Never mind that.” Seungcheol says, cutting you off. “Can you just come down and be here, when we get off practice? Jeonghan drove over so you both can take his car back, but I think he just really needs someone here with him today.”

You wince. “Seungcheol, actually, I–”

“No, no, please. You don’t understand. I think I saw him crying on the bench. He needs you. Come.” Then after a slight hesitation he adds, “If you can. Please.”

You don’t even know what to say, but it doesn’t matter because just then the call ends. You stare at your phone, considering the options. Stay here and wallow. Or go, and try to salvage everything you’ve broken. And while you are a very accomplished wallower, you know which one you have to do. You drag your feet all the way over to your room to change.

You pace outside the field waiting for them, running through every possible scenario in your head. It does nothing, only worsening the condition of your already ailing heart. You drop down onto the curb, holding your head in your hands. Maybe he won’t even see you like this. You can’t tell if you prefer or hate that possibility.

Something bumps into your back. You look up and find Jeonghan staring down at you. You stand up so quickly your head starts to spin. Looking at him, you realize that this is the longest you’ve gone without seeing or talking to each other since meeting. You hated every second of it. But you think you might hate the look on his face right now more.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, words devoid of all the little quirks that make him him.

“Seungcheol called me.”

His face twitches. “Why?”

“He said that you–” you halt, selfishly wondering if it’s too late to abandon this ship. “How’s your shoulder?”

He looks at it, rolling it out once. He shrugs. “It’s fine now.”

You nod.

He then surprises you by asking: “How was your midterm?” Your eyes widen, searching his face for… you’re not even sure what. You don’t find it anyways.

You shift your weight uncomfortably. “It went well actually.”

He nods.

“Do you want a ride back?

He scoffs quietly. You flinch. “Can you even drive?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“How would you get back to yours?”

“I don’t know. Walk. Or maybe a bus. Or I could even–”

He doesn’t even let you finish. Voice raising when he asks again, “Why are you here?”

The words come out before you can stop them, tone matching his. “Because I’m sorry!”

“For what?”

“For kissing you!” He drops his duffle bag on the floor. “I don’t know!”

He parts his lips, inhaling as if to speak, but then he looks straight in your eyes and loses every word he might’ve wanted to say. He picks up his duffle and walks over to his car. “Jeonghan, please say something. I miss you, and I hate this. I just want to at least talk about what happened before we never speak again.”

He shoves his bag into the backseat and slams the door shut. He points to the car. “You coming?”

“Where?”

“I’ll drop you home.”

You don’t even know why you let him, but you do, sliding in the passenger seat and waiting until the car is started and moving to say something.

Or at least, that was the plan. But then you lose all the nerves you built up on your walk over and keep quiet the entire drive back to your place. It’s only when he stops in front of yours, ignition shutting off, that they build back enough for you to say, “Jeonghan, I–”

“I’m not mad because of the kiss.” He finally says, voice much softer than before. His eyes stay trained on the dashboard. “The kiss was…” He chokes on the word while the tiniest of smiles breaks like light after a storm on his face. “The kiss was perfect.” Your stomach momentarily turns into a gymnast. “I’m not even mad at all. I’m just,” You lean in after the words, as if waiting to catch them in your hands. He shakes his head once and then turns to look at you fully. “I’m upset because you think this has all been fake when, if I’m being brutally honest, I haven’t been faking anything since that first party.”

Oh.

Oh.

Holy fucking shit.

He chuckles darkly, hitting his head lightly against the steering wheel. “Now, I know what it feels like to be on the opposite end of this.”

You can’t help yourself. “How is it?”

He groans. “It’s like a thousand stomach aches throughout your entire body.”

You want to take him out of his misery, but, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything.”

“I don’t think–”

“No, I’m serious.” He mutters. He looks pained. “Remember when you said that I can’t say no to people? This is it. I’m saying no.” He smiles at you, but you know his eyes too well and you know when there’s nothing in them. His breath catches. “I’m really happy about your midterm. I always knew you didn’t need me.”

He looks away after that, turning the car back on, an obvious signal for you to get out. Selfishly, you don’t. You take two more seconds to stare at his face, his eyes, his hair, his hands. Then you unbuckle your seatbelt and step out of the car.

He doesn’t wait long before he drives away.

You walk back up to your dorm in a stupor of sorts. You unlock the door, step through the kitchen, walk like a zombie to your room, and stare at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes travel over your whole frame, and for some reason they fall to rest at your neck. More specifically, your necklace.

You’re out of the door, running before you even know it. Breathlessly, turning onto the road that leads to the opposite side of campus. 30 minutes away. This of course turns out to be a terrible, terrible idea. You do not run. But you get there eventually. Speed walking up to the door of Jeonghan’s frat house and knocking vigorously.

Soonyoung happens to be the one that opens it. “Oh, hey! How was your–Why can’t you breathe?”

You ignore him. “Is Jeonghan here?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think he’s back from practice yet. Why? What happened? Did you guys make up yet?”

“No, but, Soonyoung, I’ve been so stupid. This whole time I kept gabbing on and on, but I was blind. It was him. It was always–”

You hear a familiar voice say your name. Not just familiar. Your favorite voice. You turn to face him.

And you can’t help it, you grin.

You’re distantly aware of Soonyoung closing the door behind you.

“How did you get here?”

“I ran.” He makes a face. “Well, partly.”

“I told you to–”

“I know what you said.”

“Fine.” He sighs. “I didn’t–well, not like this, but listen. It’s okay if you don’t care–”

“But the thing is Jeonghan,” you say, the sentences and words you had prepared on the way over blurring together all in a rush to get out of your head and into his, “I do. There was no one looking at you at Jenny’s party. I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I wanted it. I hate sports. Really, ask Soonyoung, but I went and watched your game and had fun because you asked me to and because I don’t have the capacity to actually say no to your face. I thought I hated that smirk you do, but really I just hate how flustered it makes me feel. And I’m sorry that I took the whole young and stupid thing too close to heart, but,” you pull the matching necklace out from under your shirt. “If I didn’t care, would I still be wearing this? Would I be able to stand here and tell you and I haven’t taken it off since we bought it? And that that date was the best date I’ve ever been on.” You let go of the necklace, inhaling sharply. “I care, Jeonghan.” Then, as if it needs to be clarified, you add, “about you.”

You stare at him, waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

He turns around, takes two steps away from you, and then immediately plops his ass on the ground. You hear a whimper. “I thought I was going to lose you.” You approach him slowly, like a cat you’re trying like hell not to scare. You kneel down on the pavement beside him. He wipes his tears. “Don’t laugh.” He cries, already sensing the one bubbling in your throat. You shake your head as a swear not to. Which you break a second after the fact, turning your head to the side, desperately trying to hide it behind your hand. “Bully!” He exclaims.

“No. No.” You say, composing yourself and turning back to him. His tears are wiped, but a pout remains on his face. You cup your hands against his cheeks. “It’s just really cute.”

“It’s embarrassing.” He huffs.

You shake your head. “I love it.” Then you kiss him. It’s a slow and sweet kiss. You relish in it. There’s no rush anymore. No deadline. He isn’t going anywhere. Neither are you. You have all the time in the world with him.

[ordowrites]

potions and brews

cw: mdni, dub-con, aphrodisiacs, afab reader with little pronouns used, mild yandere content with wanderer, general not sfw warnings., begging, oral (f.receiving) user has a vision, praising (use of "good girl"), orgasm denial, degradation, slightly unhealthy relationships, slight dom/sub dynamics, breeding kink

synopsis: inspired by the current genshin event going on! (the reader is not the Traveler), genshin characters reacting to you (or them) consuming an aphrodisiac.

characters: diluc, kaeya, arlecchino, wanderer

i. diluc

you frown as you stare at him, his face is flustered a bit and he clears his throat. he tries to find words as you across your arms over your chest, an unamused look crossing your face as he fumbles a bit.

"ah - i-it seems that i may have had the traveler get a bit too creative with potion making." he's too polite to say it or maybe even too embarrassed, but you can tell in his gorgeous red eyes that he needs something. before you can even open your mouth to offer help, maybe your hydro vision could cool him down some, his strong arms are wrapping around you and pulling you flush close to him. lips find yours as quickly as possible.

"i'm sorry," he groans after he breaks away. it isn't long before he's began stripping both of you, pushing you against his desk and uttering those words again. you try to lightly protest, informing diluc that he's not in the right state of mind, he cuts you off with a soft bite to your neck, fingers pressing against your slick cunt. and when he husks your name against your ear in the way that always makes you weak in your knees, you lose all reasoning as you let him fuck you against his desk.

"i know, i'm sorry, need you so badly - ugh, such a good girl for me. fuck. gonna fill you up over and over again."

ii. kaeya

"kaeya," you beg as you stare up at him with desperation and you squirm on your place on his bed. "kaeya, please." the consumption of an aphrodisiac was accidental and all your instincts told you to go to the ever so kind calvary captain for help. he's smart, after all - he would have a solution.

except now, you're not quite sure what that solution is - or really, you just don't want to say it out of pure humiliation. your studies have always been botany, that you should have been a bit wiser to whatever you put in your mouth. but alas, science wins over mental logical any day.

he's grinning at you, from ear to ear as he looms over you.

"my, what a mess you've made of yourself." he teases as he climbs onto his bed - his fingers tantalizingly stroking what skin he can reach. "and of my bed."

"hurry up," you plead. there is a look in kaeya's eye as he pushes you down on your back.

"precious, i don't think you're in the right position to be making demands." but he obliges anyways, hands wandering to your breasts. you're in for a very long afternoon.

"keep begging me, precious, and maybe i'll let you cum. look how pretty you are like this, all needy and desperate for me. would be a shame if we neded this too soon, yes? you can go one more round for me."

iii. arlecchino

you think she might be mad, with the way she's looking at you - maybe even displeased. you're not sure, but all you know is you want and she is right there.

"who drugged you?" it's clear she's trying to maintain some sense of composure, though you're not sure if she's going to be able to maintain such a prim and proper state as you squirm and try to soothe your too hot body with the coolness if your hydro vision.

"i uh -" you try to find the words, feeling the humiliation creep up on you. "n-nobody."

"nobody?" you nod. arlecchino doesn't seem to believe you, but she strides over to you anyways. of course not, you want to say. nobody would ever dare lay a finger on the knave's most precious person. she sighs as she looks over you. "i suppose it can't be helped." you tremble as she touches you - you're not sure if it's out of fear or lust, either way, your thoughts stop when she kisses you.

you're soon on your hands and knees, your tongue working at your soaked cunt as a clawed hands grip at your long hair, the other at your throat. you grind desperately against her shoe, trying to chase the coil that's only started to tighten in your stomach. all you can think about is arlecchino, how wonderful she tastes on your tongue, how you would do anything for her - oh how you need -

"no getting off - this is a punishment, my little gem. there we go. oh you're growing tired? weary? that's too bad, the lesson needs to stick about consuming strange things. work harder to please me."

iv. the wanderer

hunger, that's the term you can apply to the way he's looking at you right now. hungry. he knows, because of course he knows - nothing ever escapes his perceptive eyes. and he looks pleased, worst of all, with your flushed cheeks and soft whines as you try to get yourself off. you didn't dare go to him, because you never know how he's going to react.

of course, he's a welcomed presence - with the way he's reverently kissing you and touching you everywhere he can. you gasp out his name, hips bucking the moment his lips touch your needy cunt. it doesn't take long for him to get drunk on it, lips, mouth, fingers working at you until you're mewling and moaning mess, debauching his face as you move your hips.

slow, closed circles around your clit as you clenching around his fingers as you cum and he looks thrilled. pants off, cock erect - he keeps you pinned with his inhuman strength as he slowly enters you. it doesn't really dawn on you that no protection is being used as you bliss out when his cock fully enters you.

this, you think within the fog of your mind as your legs wrap around his hips. is where i belong.

"what a slut, accepting drinks from strangers like that. you're so stupid but you're lucky i love you. i'm going to breed you - don't think i won't. you'll be mine, permanently. mine, all mine."

[rooksunday]

Thorn had been staring at the datapad for nearly an hour, trying to find a solution to the meer rat infestation in the medbay, when a knock came on the office door. No one knocked on that door. Vode walked straight in and everyone else walked straight past. That's how Fox had—

Thorn pushed away the 'pad and pulled on his bucket. He cleared his throat.

"C-come in?" he said, not certain of the wording or indeed the sentiment, and sounding like a shiny as a consequence. He'd have to work on that.

When the door opened and Shiv walked in, some of the tension left Thorn, only to immediately return with reinforcements when he registered the look on her face. Thorn pushed to his feet. He braced himself on the desk. Coruscant never gave ground.

"Is it Thire? Stone?"

He couldn't stand another loss. He refused.

To Thorn's relief, Shiv shook her head. Then her gaze slid from him and she rubbed one hand across her mouth.

Thorn had never seen Shiv uncertain before. Medics weren't, as a rule. Different sequencing in their jars. At that expression on Shiv's face, Thorn's stomach twisted and he slowly sat back down. He flexed his fingers, unseen beneath the desk. Rats abruptly seemed an insignificant problem.

"Tell me."

"It's Fox," she said.

"I know it's Fox," Thorn snarled. "He's—"

"He's back."

Thorn tried to sit down again despite already sitting. The wheeled chair skidded back into the wall and he grabbed onto the lip of the desk to keep steady. His HUD registered an abrupt uptick in his heartrate. His ears were ringing. Somehow, his air filters were filling with crud, and making his breath come short.

"A-alive?" Fox couldn't be alive. Not after that.

As expected, Shiv shook her head in response to the weak question. Then she stopped. Shrugged. Seesawed her hand.

"Best if you come and see for yourself."

Thorn's last view of Fox, the memory he'd lingered over making to better etch it into whatever the Kaminoans had provided instead of a heart, had been of a soldier. That had been the image they'd wanted to send off. They'd done the best they could with his armour, buffing out the worst dents and touching up the paint, though they'd had to take a fresh helmet from the stores.

Thorn, Thire, and Stone had done the paint on the helmet. With a mulish expression, and a white-knuckled hand, Thire had added jaig eyes on the crest. No one had stopped him.

Then they'd sent what remained of Fox to the recycler.

So it came as a surprise to see Fox sitting upright on a medbay cot, swinging his feet back and forth like a shiny, one hand resting on his new helmet. His other hand was in the firm grip of Medic Gristle, whose usual glower was sliding toward baffled as they looked between Fox and their datapad.

The bafflement was understandable, given its origin in Fox. Fox, who was alive. Fox, whose skull appeared to be in one piece.

Fox, who was grinning.

Whatever Thorn’s face was doing, he figured it must reflect a variation of the stunned hope on Shiv's. As if embarrassed by her own emotions, Shiv gestured brusquely at the impossibility on the cot and then vanished to her office in short order. A traitorous part of Thorn wanted to go with her. He never got to keep anything on Coruscant. He didn't know how he was supposed to let go of Fox a second time.

"Thorn! I feel amazing!" Fox said brightly, like he'd just chugged the third caf of the day and was brewing the fourth against medical advice. "Hungry. But amazing! Despite Gristle here not letting me get anything to eat."

"I would if you'd let me finish my tests, sir," Gristle muttered.

"You've been testing me all morning."

"Because you were dead, sir. And now you're not. Your medical records are out of date."

Thorn winced, but Fox only barked his obnoxious laugh, and swung his legs a little faster. He looked happier than Thorn had seen him since their second day on Coruscant. He looked younger. Where had his scars gone?

Fox looked like a stranger that Thorn desperately wanted to be a friend. But he couldn't trust anything on Coruscant.

Thorn cleared his throat. He could've taken off his helmet but then Fox would've seen his face.

"What happened?" he asked, drawing closer despite himself. Then, weakly, Thorn added, "You were dead. And now you're not."

... It sounded just as absurd as when Gristle had said it.

"I know. Sorry, Thorn. I didn't mean to." Fox slowed his kicking feet and hunched his shoulders, looking down. He resembled nothing so much as Grizzer when she'd been denied a treat. Then his grin turned sly and he slid a sidelong gaze toward Thorn. Something on Gristle's datapad beeped. "Want to see something interesting?"

"CMO says you're confined to medbay," Gristle said, in nearly one rush of breath.

At the same time, Thorn said, "Yes."

Fox only heard one of them. In a blur of motion, so fast Thorn could only unpick the actions afterwards, Fox managed to evade Gristle, cross the medbay, grab a scalpel, and return to the cot. Then he drew the scalpel across his wrist, too fast for Gristle or Thorn to do anything more than cry out.

"Don't fuss," Fox murmured, his eyes gleaming. He flapped his other hand. Blood spattered from the scalpel. "Just watch."

Thorn watched—why could he only ever watch—as Fox's blood abruptly changed direction and returned to the wound, which then sealed itself, as if time ran in reverse. Gristle grunted and immediately grabbed Fox's no-longer-injured arm to scan, muttering under their breath.

"Results are normal," Gristle bit out.

Thorn stuttered. "H-How?"

Another cadet-bright smile. "I'm really hungry, Thorn. Can we go to the mess?"

"I suggest giving it another minute, sirs. For any… Complications," Gristle said.

"What possible further complications could we— Fox!"

Another impossible flash across the medbay, this time to— Thorn winced as Fox sank his teeth into the belly of the meer rat he clutched in his hands. Blood smeared Fox's face as he burrowed into the innards for another messy bite. The sound of tearing flesh and fur made Thorn's skin creep. The rat's tail was still twitching.

Fox's grin shone bright and sharp.

As Fox continued to chew, Thorn pulled off his bucket and sat it beside Fox's on the cot. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and tried not to hear Fox chewing on the rat's bones. Gristle lowered their datapad and watched Fox like a compelling holonovella.

"Sir…" they ventured, only to stop. What else could they say?

"I know," Thorn replied. Then he sighed. "Well, on the bright side, at least that's the rat problem sorted."

[lila-went-missing]

Can I have a whipped!Clarisse x sunshine!reader headcannons or one shot idk (could reader be either a Hecate daughter or just unspecified?) :3

Have a nice day/night

Ugh, I love Grumpy X Sunshine.

Clarisse x Sunshine!Reader Headcannons

Okay, literally no one expected you two to start dating.

Plot-twist of the century vibes.

You're so sweet and kind to everyone, offering your magical insight to anyone who asks you.

And she's so tough and brutal all the time, always picking fights with people over the smallest things.

Literal polar opposites, but opposites attract.

I feel like she would be pining over you from the moment you met.

Something about you drew her in. Maybe the way you carried yourself, maybe it was your natural talent for magic.

Either way, she's so whipped for you.

You have her wrapped around your finger without even trying.

I feel like she's the kind of person to practice what she's going to say to you before she actually asks you out.

I can just imagine her pacing around her cabin when no one is around whispering the script she made in preparation.

Because of her dad constantly ignoring her, and what little attention she does get being him telling her that she'll never be good enough, or never as good as her brothers, she has a MASSIVE fear of rejection.

That really plays a role in how she asks you out.

She'd literally be so nervous it's not even funny.

When she does eventually ask you out there is a lot of stuttering and stumbling over words.

You would probably be in your cabin, just finishing brewing a potion when she comes to you.

You can't help but laugh at how nervous she is, finding it rather adorable.

Obviously she gets really offended and tries to leave, telling you to forget she said anything in the first place.

You pull her back to you and kiss her.

"I wasn't laughing to make fun of you, I was laughing because you're cute."

From that moment on, her protectiveness SKYROCKETS.

Someone looks at you wrong? They're in the infirmary getting stitches.

Someone calls you a freak because of your mom being Hecate? She's lost dessert privileges for the next five months.

Eventually you do have to talk to her and tell her to tone it down.

But that just ends in y'all making out on her bed.

How is she supposed to be serious when her girlfriend is sitting there looking so pretty and perfect, and her lips are just so kissable.

SPEAKING OF, you can't tell me this girl isn't obsessed with kissing you.

Doesn't matter where you are or who you're with, she will kiss you at any point in time.

Lips, forehead, nose, cheek, neck, shoulder, you name it.

She could literally be about to break someones bones until you come up.

The mood switch is IMMEDIATE.

From "I will literally murder you." to "Oh hey baby, how was your day." and just kissing all over your face.

It gives everyone whiplash.

But they get used to it eventually.

She's just so in love with you.

You're literally the first person to ever show her what it's like to genuinely be loved and not just wanted as a weapon.

You're the first and only person she says "I love you" to.

You're especially the first person and only person she means it to.

It takes her a while to open up because she hates being perceived as weak or soft. After a while though, she will start coming to you with her problems.

She'll occasionally come to your cabin in the middle of the night after having a nightmare, usually about you dying.

She never wants to talk about it, she just wants you to hold her until she falls back asleep.

Everyone in both of your cabins comes to love y'all.

I like to think that Ares cabin is sworn to a mutual secrecy because almost all of them have someone they sneak in at night to cuddle.

But they all have a reputation to uphold no one talks about it.

If you think regular Clarisse likes to cuddle, Whipped!Clarisse is 10x worse.

She'll never admit it, but cuddling you is one of her favorite things ever.

Her guilty pleasure is laying on your chest or being the little spoon.

She just likes the feeling of being held by the only person she's ever loved.

This ended up being A LOT longer than expected. Sorry (not really) y'all, went on a tangent.

[nanaminokanojo]

Between 7:00pm and 8:31pm | gojo x you

TW/CW: mentions of death/dying | shibuya arc | misanthropic thoughts | just angst | strong language

"For the greater good? Fuck that."

Four pairs of eyes simultaneously darted towards you, devoid of judgment. More or less, they understood what you were getting at, but you knew what they meant without words. You weren't supposed to say that. Such was your duty and purpose as a jujutsu sorcerer. But you did anyway, giving a voice to the white elephant in the room, acknowledging what everyone was afraid to even give a single moment's thought.

The greater good? Who does it serve anyway? At whose expense? Your friends' lives? Why? Because you were stronger than the rest of humanity? The strongest for the preservation of the lives of the weak?

You were strong. That should be the end of the conversation. You didn't owe anyone for it. You chose to be strong, and those who were born like you weren't there to play the role of anyone's savior just because they have the means.

Fushiguro Megumi was right: you weren't heroes. You may choose whom you want to save. Your addition to that was the fact that you can choose whether to save others or not. That's the cold, hard truth you wanted to live by without having to apologize for it, but that would shake the very foundations the jujutsu society stood for.

You looked towards Gojo. You knew he was looking at you even with his blindfold on and the lack of physical indication that his attention was on you. And somehow, it seemed to weigh more than any of the looks every one else in the room gave you. It angered you that he was resigned to it all when he was the best out of all of you, the strongest, the honored one. He can do whatever the hell he wants and yet he was there with you, wholeheartedly accepting orders to deal with whatever was happening in Shibuya at the moment.

Alone.

"Now isn't the time to –" Nanami spoke, and you usually wouldn't dare with the degree of respect you held for him, but you interrupted him.

"No, seriously. What does this have to do with us?" you asked, stunning them further. You looked at Nanami who was able to escape this life but came back anyway, confusion and rage glimmering in your eyes despite your calm manner. He could have a good life away from everything, but what the hell was he doing there?

And now they're thinking of sending Gojo alone to play along with whatever schemes the enemies are brewing? They're letting him walk into something that – although he was possibly capable of putting an end to – was, by all means, a trap? You refused to stand for it.

You didn't understand. Ever since you were a child, you were taught and trained to become what you are: a jujutsu sorcerer before you were a human; a tool for this greater good – whatever that meant – before you're a feeling, living being. But as time passed by, watching all the people you knew, good ones, lose their lives for this one-track cause, the less you knew. Why do you have to save them? Lives begin and end. It's just there. Why should those people's lives matter more than yours did? Because they're good? On whose standards?

"Y/N," Yaga warned, evidently seeing the ghost of someone he thought he knew well from last year. "This has already been decided by the higher-ups."

"And nobody dared question it?"

"You're treading dangerous waters there," the principal stated, raising his voice. "This is what we do. It's what you chose to do. Have you come to resent it?"

"There lies my mistake."

Shoko placed a hand on your shoulder. "You don't mean that."

"Geto was right." There, you said it, distabilizing the very principles you all stood for.

"Don't go there –"

You gave everyone a sweeping glare, silencing even Yaga. "His methods will never be right, but he knew what he was talking about." You chuckled bitterly. "He always did. And now he's gone."

You started walking out of the room but paused by the bench where Gojo was seated, still looking unbothered. "I never cared that you were the strongest. To me, you're just Satoru."

You looked behind your shoulder. "That applies to you all."

"Where are you going?" Nanami asked.

"You will excuse me if I do not wish to have a hand in murdering my friends or myself for that matter."

**

"You underestimate me."

You blew the cigarette smoke you were holding in as you stared at the clear signs of veils laid out over the busy streets of Shibuya from where you stood on a building rooftop. Without acknowledging the presence behind you, you finished the last drag of smoke, the burn in your throat and lungs feeling better than all your bitter thoughts and feelings towards the world you've come to know.

"'Just Satoru', eh?"

"You're purposefully being an idiot if you didn't understand what I meant by that." You glanced at Gojo when he came close enough. "Even more so if you think I'll ever underestimate you."

He chuckled. "So, you don't want me to go?" he asked in that melodic, carefree voice, slightly bending down towards the side as if he needed that to take a better look at you. "You have so little faith –"

"Faith, I have too much in you, not because you're strong, but because you are you. What I don't have is sympathy or trust for anyone who thinks they can rely on you all the time to straighten things out."

"And proud?" You let out a humorless laugh. "There's nothing to be proud of in death. There's never any ounce of dignity in it whether you die saving others or if you get snuffed out meaninglessly. It all ends the same way."

His weirdly glossy lips protruded at your sentiment. "Aren't you proud that people are able rely on us?"

"This is wrong." Everything was conveyed in those three words you uttered without any need for elaboration. Gojo merely smiled.

"So, you're scared of dying?"

"No. Dying is easy. That's all where we're headed at one point. You know what's terrifying though?"

"What?"

You finally looked at him. "Giving your life to this cause knowing it changes nothing."

"How very nihilistic."

You shrugged. "A hundred years from now, curses will still be around, kept alive by the very beings we're fighting for at present. And for what? For future generations who will produce curses, stronger and harder to fathom and defeat? All because they can't accept they're just products of a chance in their search to have higher purpose and superiority in life.

We ourselves are cursed. We control that very form of energy to prevent it from evolving into monsters, but it eats us up for the very same reasons."

"Those reasons being...?"

"We're stronger so perhaps we should be responsible for protecting lives around us. Whoever thought of that was fucking cocky, but really, who are we kidding, Gojo?"

He snickered, no doubt thrilled by your unfiltered thoughts. After him, you were probably the biggest thorn on the higher-ups' side with your radical thoughts, at least by their standards. But he still wanted you to jump all the hoops. "Thus your belief that Suguru was right?"

"I'm worse than him. I just don't act on it. I'm super sold on the fact that humans are the scum of the earth, sorcerer or not."

"You're human and a sorcerer?" he pointed out, trying to vex you.

"Exactly."

Gojo patted your head. "And yet you're still here for the very purpose you dare spit on."

You smirked at him. "I don't want you to have to kill another one of your friends for insubordination and subscribing to the ideologies of our realm's Lord Voldemort."

"Suguru had hair and a nose though?"

"He's prettier, too, that cult-leading fucker, but not the point, dumbass."

It was both funny and sad how you speak of the fallen Geto Suguru so fondly as if he didn't kickstart the most massive chaos in recent jujutsu history. But like Gojo, to you, he was just Suguru.

Just then, Gojo pulled you into his long arms, giving you a bear hug that annoyed you more than anything. "You've always been our sweetest Y/N even if you act like Ryomen Sukuna's spawn."

You pushed Gojo off of you, straightening your hair out in irritation. "He's my ancestor after all."

You both made disgusted faces at that little detail about you, but as always, Gojo was quick to recover into his cheerful façade. "Don't worry. I'll be back."

He said that, but not even an hour later, you were hearing Itadori Yuuji screaming from the top of a building in the middle of the deserted Shibuya.

Gojo Satoru has been sealed by none other than the very person – or at least whatever now resides in him – whose beliefs you agreed were right.

[wandagcre]

https://x.com/justherelollol/status/1757608992753242470?s=46

sam’s nsfw pls

her heavy boots tactfully make their way to peek over your window. sam sighs in relief, realizing that the television was loud and clear – unknowingly it worked with her – covering up the sound of her stealthy attempts. she had finished stabbing a man earlier that was nothing but a pawn to her narrative. someone that came too close from knowing.

it would've been a better option just to come in like a normal person in casual clothes but sam was itching to see you in person. dried splatters of blood blended in with her dark robe, though they were still there.

although no one's in the living room. did it stop sam? not at all.

instead, she finds out a way to unlock your back door and cautiously makes her way to the stairs, sam's boots thudding slightly to each step. her knife is pointed away as she meant no harm for you.

your door was left slightly ajar. she gets a whif of your faint scent; rosy and somewhat musky. hearing the soft rustling of your sheets and the creaking of your bed, sam cranes her head to view more of what you were doing and to sam's complete suprise, you were laid in the bed, head hung over the edge just right in her direction with your eyes closed. your mouth parted as you let out a moan every now and then. you were almost naked – wrist bent with fingers unmistakably touching yourself.

sam's gloved hands push the door open and invites herself in. the squelching of your wetness as your fingers go in deeper so desperately had her weak in her knees.

you retract your fingers fast as if you were burned, body completely startled as you see the upside down figure of the ghostface paying you a visit. you feel choked up – this is it, it must be the end of you. the infamous persona came to sentence you.

"hello y/n/n," sam coldly utters through the voice changer. the smirk was unstoppable on her lips as you quickly scramble off to face her.

then there's the head tilt.

"how'd you–sammy?" you dumbly ask, still bewildered. you stood close to the ghostface who mildly smelt unpleasant, you figured they were on the job. it was nighttime, the perfect time, after all. "is it really you?"

you couldn't be too sure, sam rarely talks about this side of hers. you didn't know if she worked in pair or in threes. she drops the knife safely to the ground.

sam in question remained still until your hands cradled her by the mask, as if it were her face. so gentle that sam had to sigh in content.

soon as you felt her gloved hands snaking through your bare midwaist, pulling you closer as she rests them on your lowerback, you've got your confirmation—her other hand tracing your jaw featherlight. it was typical of sam to hold you in such way.

the monotonous voice starts up again, "it's me princess. now, why don't you finish what you started? i loved the preview." sam shook her head sideways, teasing you.

"with your help, i suppose?" you ask sweetly with a glint in your eyes.

soon, you feel her hand caressing over your tummy that tickled you. sam undos her other gloved hand and now you're able to feel the warmth in her touch—and oh, her pretty calloused hands...

they kept travelling downwards until she cupped your mound, making you moan and lean closer to her with eyes closed.

"of course. i'm here now."

you bit your bottom lip in excitement, the fuzzy feeling in your lower stomach brewing in wildly. you kiss sam a thousand times over her white mask, knowing the soft smile that she's got underneath, her fingers sinfully plunging in and out of your soaked cunt.

[alastxrs]

𝐇𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐇𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐲!

❝𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞….❞

His (E/C) colored eyes stared at him with complete love and his expression showed a smile yet the sentence that was just given to him was one of the worst things that could ever get given.

Whispers spread around the court.

The Hydro Archon....guilty?

The verdict that Y/N had received was one that he never saw before.

"The Hydro Archon is found guilty via the....death sentence..." Just hearing himself say those words hurt more than anything.

The trial wasn't supposed to end like this.

Neuvillette and Y/N found themselves seated at a quaint café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air.

Neuvillette couldn't help but notice the tension in Y/N's demeanor, knowing all too well the reason behind it. Neuvillette leaned forward, concern etched on his face. "Y/N, I can tell something's been weighing on your mind. Is it about the trial?"

Y/N sighed heavily, nodding slowly. "Yeah, it's been keeping me up at night. The thought of facing the courtroom, the pressure of presenting my case... It's daunting, to say the least."

Neuvillette reached across the table, offering a reassuring squeeze to Y/N's hand. "I understand. It's natural to feel nervous, especially with so much at stake. But remember, you're not alone in this. We're all here to support you every step of the way."

Y/N managed a weak smile, gratitude flickering in their eyes. "Thank you, my dear. I appreciate your support more than you know."

Neuvillette leaned back, a determined glint in his eyes. "You're welcome, Y/N. Just remember, you're prepared, you're capable, and you're deserving of justice. You've got this."

Everything in Neuvillette's body wanted to deny this verdict, except the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale's verdict was final.

The Hydro Dragon's hands started to shake as he looked at the Hydro Dragon who just stood there with his hands behind his back.

Staring back at him.

The (H/C) haired male sighed. "Nothing I can do about this..." he tilted his head as he kept smiling yet he can see the look of relief for some reason. "I accept this verdict."

Did Y/N know he was going to die?

Was that why he was nervous?

The Oratrice moved above the Hydro Archon while the God sat with his legs crossed and his hands to his lap.

The long-haired man quickly stood up when he watched Y/N sit and stay calm like death wasn't about to hit him. "Y/N..." he whispered, it felt like the other man could hear him because the Hydro Archon looked up at the Hydro Dragon.

"Don't worry my dear, we will see each other again." Y/N spoke, it was like the two were in the room with nobody there. Neuvillette didn't know what to feel at this moment. "I am just paying for past mistakes; it is not your fault this was the outcome."

Neuvillette stood up as the death sentence was beginning to take action.

❝𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝~!❞

@sangoqueenkoko

[sweetcheeksschemmenti]

Cat and Mouse

NSFW, 18+ only!

Melissa Schemmenti x f!OC

Warnings/tags: Porn, porn with little plot, orgasm denial, mommy kink, spanking,

WC: 6.3K

After months of Melissa toying with me and pushing me around, I had enough and told her so… so she punished me.

Notes: I never write smut, ever, but here we are! It is shameless Schemmenti porn. Please enjoy. 🫡

I started volunteering as Melissa’s aide a few days a week in August when I took a break from full time teaching, and after many months of playing into her games and being ridiculed for the smallest things, I was over it. It all came to a head one Friday after school when she asked me to stay to help with lesson plans, only for her to spend the entire time chastising me. “Honestly," she said with disgust, "How did you even get your teaching degree? They just hand that shit out these days? Like Oprah. You get a teaching degree, you get a teaching degree, everybody and their damn mother gets a teaching degree!"

My eyes went wide at the insult, but I refused to let her get the best of me, “Oh fuck off, Schemmenti.” I stood and found something in the corner to busy myself with, too tired to fight back like she wanted me to.

Melissa's eyes narrowed even further as she observed me attempting to distract myself. She set her cup of coffee down and leaned back against her chair, crossing her arms.

“You know, kid,” she said, the sarcasm dripping from her voice thicker than molasses, “If I wanted your lip, I’d get it off my zipper.” She smirked, relishing in the power imbalance she had over me.

I rolled my eyes and spat back at her, “Ha! That’s a damn joke. You wouldn’t be caught dead with a woman between your legs! You’re too afraid of what anyone might think. You play it cool, but inside… you’re just a scared little girl.”

Melissa let out a sharp laugh, enjoying the exchange far too much. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she pushed off from the chair, standing to her full height, now almost as tall as me. She crossed the room slowly and closed the classroom door, locking it, her heels clicking ominously as she made her way over to me. "Oh, my dear little mouse," she purred, "don't you worry your pretty little head about what happens between my legs." She gave me a wink that could only be described as predatory, a smirk still tugging at her lips as she added, “That’s way above your pay grade, hon.”

A shiver ran down my spine, I could feel a familiar pit in my stomach forming. I masked it by rolling my eyes and adjusting my stance. “They don’t pay me, Melissa.”

“And you’re worth every penny.” Her wicked grin grew.

“W-what’s your problem? Huh?” I snapped at her and turned my entire body to look at her. “What the hell did I do to piss you off so bad? All I do is come in, do what you ask, and go home.” I throw my hands up in frustration.

Melissa’s smirk widened even more as she noticed the slight stutter in my voice. Her demeanor softened slightly, but the hint of mockery remained in her voice. "Oh, sweetie," she said, a note of feigned pity lacing her words, "you're so naive, it's almost endearing." She paused, considering me for a moment before continuing, "The problem isn’t what you’ve done. It’s who you are- spineless, weak, and completely lacking a backbone- very similar to Janine. You’re basically a doormat."

The anger and hurt that had been brewing within for months finally exploded as I raised my hand and smacked Melissa across the face. “You will NOT treat me like this any longer. You understand? You are not my superior, we are supposed to be a team and all you do is treat me like dog shit. Just because I am soft does not mean that I’m weak, Melissa. That’s obviously something you’ve yet to learn…”

Melissa's head snapped to the side as my hand made contact with her cheek, a bright red handprint forming instantly. The smirk was gone from her face, replaced with a look of disbelief and outrage. She recovered quickly, though, slowly turning her face back to glare at me with fire in her eyes. Stepping closer, she hissed through clenched teeth, "Watch it, mouse. Who do you think you are, laying a hand on me like that? Don't think I won't knock you on your ass, newbie."

I stepped dangerously closer to her, anger radiating off of both of us. With that anger fueling my every move, Melissa braced herself for what might come. Crossing her arms, she lifted her chin defiantly, refusing to give an inch despite the fury in my eyes.

"Go ahead," she taunted, her words sharp and biting. "Hit me again. See what happens."

I looked her over for a moment, noting that damned smirk that graced her lips. God, I just wanted to slap that look off her face again. Instead, I grabbed her face roughly and smashed my lips to hers in a hungry, passionate kiss. I wrapped a leg around one of her own, wanting to be as close as possible.

The redhead gasped in surprise, her mouth opening slightly as my lips crashed against hers. However, the gasps quickly turned into a low moan, the sudden passion catching her off guard. She stumbled back, the surprise of her reaction causing her to lose her footing for a moment. Her arms wrapped around my body, pulling me close as she returned the kiss with just as much hungry passion. One of her hands slipped downwards, grabbing a fistful of my ass and squeezing firmly as she lost herself in the moment. I reveled in the feeling of Melissas’s hand on my ass, my lips parting. She used the moment to dart her tongue into my mouth. One of my hands weaved itself into her hair to hold her in place while the other squeezed her breast as I thumbed over her already erect nipple over her thin bra.

At the feeling of my hand grabbing her breast, Melissa let out a sharp gasp, her body arching into my touch. She broke the kiss for a moment, her eyes glazed with desire, and licked her lips as she panted heavily. "Careful, mouse," she warned, her voice gravelly. "You're playing with fire." Despite the warning, she made no effort to stop me, in fact she leaned forward, pressing her body against mine, her hand moved from my ass to my hip and pulled me impossibly closer.

“I can take the heat, kitten,” I hissed as I leaned in and sucked on the spot just above her collar bone, biting slightly.

At the nick of my teeth against her skin, Melissa let out a strangled moan. Her fingers dug into my hips at the pet name, and her head tilted, giving me better access to her neck as she surrendered to my touch.

"Don’t think this changes anything," she managed to gasp out, her voice catching slightly as she tried to maintain her usual bravado.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I whispered the words between panting and kissing the skin I had just bruised. Melissa's eyelids fluttered closed as I continued on my southward path, a shiver running through her body as my breath ghosted over her skin. She arched her back again, pressing her breasts against me, the tension between us growing thicker by the second.

"Cocky little thing, aren't you?" She managed to gasp, her voice raspy with arousal. "I’ll have to put you in your place, hon."

I pulled away from her grip completely and met her eyes. “Do it. I dare you, Schemmenti.”

Melissa’s eyes darkened, the challenge hanging heavy in the air between us. She loved a good challenge, and my defiant smile only fueled her competitive nature. Without warning, her hands found my wrists, swiftly pinning me against the wall, the sound of a soft thump echoed in the empty classroom, her chest heaving slightly with the effort. "You want me to put you in your place, hon?" She murmured in a low, sinful tone. "Be careful what you wish for."

I yelped at the force. She was so close and I became instantly drunk off of her perfume. “Fuck. Me,” I growled.

Melissa let out a low, guttural moan at my words, the sound went straight to the pit of her stomach, and it took all her strength to maintain her control.

She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear as her body pins me to the wall, her hips rocking slightly against my own. "Do you know what happens to naughty girls who make demands?" She whispered, her voice laced with desire. Her lips found my neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses down to my exposed cleavage. I shook my head, unable to form words.

She grinned against my skin, as she continued to explore my sensitive spots. Her teeth graze against my earlobe, nibbling gently before she whispered, "They get punished, hon. And you've been nothing but naughty this whole time, haven’t you, little mouse?"

I couldn’t suppress the groan that erupted from within. “What are you gonna do, kitten? Spank me?”

She laughs a deep, throaty sound against your neck. Her lips continue their path back down to the crook of my shoulder, where she nips harder than before, her teeth making sure to leave a mark behind. "You’re so eager for it, aren’t you?" She whispered, her hand snaking up to grasp your chin, tilting your head to the side. "You want me to put you over my knee, don’t you, little mouse?" My eyes fluttered shut for a moment as I drank in the moment and nodded in her hand.

Her hand tightened its grip on my chin, forcing my eyes back open, making sure I’m looking at her as she speaks. "Then say it." She commanded, her voice firm, but her eyes softened slightly. "Tell me you want me to punish you, baby."

I looked deep into her eyes, knowing just how I was going to unravel the woman. “I want you to punish me. I want you to bend me over your knee and spank me… mommy.”

Melissa’s lips parted in a soft gasp as the word ‘mommy’ spilled from my lips, her eyes momentarily filled with surprise as she felt a familiar wetness grow between her thighs. The look was gone within an instant, replaced by a heated look of hunger. "Oh, you’re playing dirty, aren’t you, baby?" She murmured, her voice taking on a lower, huskier tone. "You know just how to get me all worked up, don’t you, little mouse?"

I grinned wickedly at her as she dragged me over to her desk before she sat down. Melissa’s hands gripped my hips, positioning me over her lap and lifting my skirt, her eyes taking in the exposed skin of my ass. She could already feel a heat pooling in her belly as she looked at me, completely at her mercy. “You look so pretty like this, little mouse,” she purred, her hands caressing my skin. “I hope you know you’re in for a good, thorough spanking.”

I could feel myself getting wetter by the second. I rubbed my thighs, searching for friction as I waited for the spanking “Mmmmhm. I’ve been so bad for you, mommy,” I hummed.

Melissa’s eyes flicked down, noticing the way my thighs subtly rubbed together. She bit her lower lip, watching me like a predatory cat. "That’s right, baby. You’ve been a very bad girl," she murmured, her hand leaving my hip to trail upwards, tracing the curve of my spine. "And bad girls get spanked."

She brought her hand up and spanked my ass twice, gauging my reaction.

I let out a small gasp, my body jolting a bit on her lap as Melissa’s spank landed on my skin. The surprise quickly gave way to a low moan as I got used to the sting. Melissa watched my reaction closely, noting how I flinched and squirmed on her lap as the initial shock wore off. Her hand came down again, striking your my cheek, a bit harder this time. I rubbed my thighs together with each new smack, getting off on the punishment alone. “Mmm, fuck,” I breathed.

As the spanking continued, Melissa picked up on the growing desperation in my movements. Her hand connected with my ass again, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing in the empty classroom. "You really like this, don’t you, little mouse?" She moaned, her voice taking on a huskier tone. "You getting off on being punished by mommy?"

Her voice gave me butterflies. I’d never touched or been touched by Melissa before this, but it was my new favorite thing. “I do, you make me so wet, spanking me soooo good.”

Melissa’s hand came down hard on my ass once more, the firm smack sending a fresh wave of pleasure shuddering through my body. She let out a sharp exhale, watching as my body responds to her every touch. She growled again, her voice a low, sultry rumble, “You’re enjoying yourself a little too much, aren’t you, naughty little thing?”.

Melissa’s hand glided over my stinging skin, her touch a mix of gentle and firm. Her fingers ghosted over the curves of my ass, a light graze that’s hardly a touch. "I think you’ve had enough spanking for now," she murmured, her voice filled with a hint of amusement. "But that doesn’t mean I’m done with you yet, mouse." She prodded me off of her lap and I followed direction.

I rose from her lap, my body slightly shaky from the combination of the spanking and the thrill of submitting to her. Melissa grinned, enjoying the effect she had on me. "Get on your knees, baby," she commanded, her eyes dark with hunger. I again listened to instruction and got on my knees.

Melissa watched me as I sank to the floors, my submission making her heart race. She moved so that she was only inches from me, her body almost towering over me. Her fingers found my chin, tilting my head up to look at her.

"That’s better," she purred, her other hand tangling in my hair, her fingers grasping the strands and tugging gently. “You look so pretty on your knees for me, baby.”

I looked up at her as she pulled my hair, eyes rolling back in my head slightly with the pleasure, moaning a little too loud. Melissa let out a low, sultry laugh as she watched the effect her actions on me. The sound of my moaning pleasure was music to her ears, fueling the fire burning deep inside her.

"Look at you, all desperate and needy," she whispered, her fingers wrapping tighter in my hair as she uses the strands to tilt my head back even further. "You love it, don’t you? Love being controlled by me."

I panted harder, absolute putty in her hands, “Yes mommy, I love being your little mouse, the way you play with me makes me feel so good.”

Melissa’s eyes darkened even further, feral hunger taking over her composure. She used her grip on my hair to pull my head further back, exposing the expanse of your neck to her.

"Oh, I know you do, little mouse," she replied, her voice taking on a low, dangerous tone. "You’re practically dripping for me, aren’t you?" Her free hand suddenly reached out, gripping my throat, her fingers wrapped just tight enough to create a delicious pressure.

My eyes rolled back again as I leaned into her hand on my throat.

Melissa watched me closely, admiring how willing and pliable I was in her hands. The sound of my moans, the arch of my body as I leaned into her grasp, it only made her want to tease and taunt me further. "You really are a naughty thing," she whispered, her fingers applying a slight squeeze to my throat. "So desperate, just aching for my touch."

I reached forward and unbuttoned her pants then grabbed ahold of her hips and pulled her forward. Face to face with her crotch, I found her pants zipper and grabbed it with my teeth, pulling it down. “God I want you so bad, kitten.”

Melissa let out a gasp as I unbuttoned her pants, her body moving forward almost involuntarily. She looked down, her eyes watching as you pull the zipper down with your teeth, the sight sending a shiver up her spine. "Aren’t we eager," she comments, her voice slightly breathless. Her fingers once again tangle in your hair, guiding you forward as she speaks. "Go ahead then, baby. Have a taste."

I pulled her underwear down along with her pants in one tug. “Mmmm, I see the carpet matched the drapes,” I giggled as I took in the sight of her bare in front of me.

Melissa let out a low chuckle as she stepped out of her clothing, eyes never leaving me for a second. "Of course it does, little mouse," she laughed, her fingers still holding your hair in a firm grip. "And you’re just about to get a very close up look, aren’t you, hon?"

I smiled up at her, hunger in my eyes. I caressed her inner thigh before venturing further to her core. I dipped my fingers into her folds and moaned at what I found. “Oh mommy, you’re so wet for me,” I breathed in a sultry tone.

Melissa moaned aloud, the touch causing her to let out a shuddering breath. And when I moved my fingers between her folds, the sensation combined with my moan caused her to grip tighter on my hair, pulling my face closer to where she needed me most.

"Mmm, baby, you have no idea just how worked up you’ve made me," she whispered, her voice thick with want.

“God, you’re so hot, kitten,” I groaned. I took the direction to lean forward, and with a flat tongue I licked the sweetness that built up from out little game.

Melissa’s grip tightened further on my hair, her knuckles going white as I begin tease her entrance and begin circling her clit with a pointed tongue. Her hips jerked forward towards my mouth instinctively, a soft gasp escaping her lips. "God, you’re such a good little mouse," she moaned, her breathing already going ragged. "Don’t you dare stop, baby."

I hummed against her, “You taste so good, mommy. So sweet for me.”

My tongue’s contact with her sensitive spot caused a full-body shudder to wrack her frame. A guttural, animalistic moan escaped her throat as she rocked her hips forward, desperate for more of my touch. "Oh, baby, you’re doing so well. Feels so good," she gasped, her breathing becoming more laboured with each passing moment. "Keep going, keep going, please…"

I smiled at her words. Her little red curls tickled my nose as I sucked and licked harder and faster, looking up at her through lashes to watch her face. Melissa’s head fell back as I increased my pace, her grip on my hair becoming almost painfully tight. Her eyes fluttered shut as the sensations washed over her, the combination of my tongue and lips driving her closer and closer to the edge. "Oh God, darling, don’t stop, don’t stop," she moaned, her voice ragged and desperate. Her hips rolled forward, seeking more of my touch, desperate to reach the peak. "Just like that… oh just like that…"

I continued to work on her clit, but made eye contact and wiggled two fingers at her in a come hither motion, a questioning look in my eye. She nodded her want and guided my free hand to her entrance. I covered my fingers in her juices once more and entered her with full force.

Her body tensed as you entered her, the unexpected force making her gasp harshly. Her chest heaved as she gripped a new handful of my hair, her teeth biting her lower lip as she adjusted to the sudden fullness.

"Oh God, that’s it, baby. Mmmm fill mommy up," she moaned, her voice hoarse with desire. "Keep going, oh don’t you dare stop now…". Melissa let out another low moan as I continued to pump my fingers within her, her grip on my hair growing tighter by the second. Her breath came in ragged breaths, her body trembling with pleasure.

"God, yes, darling," she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. "You feel so good… you make me feel so good."

Her body became taut as a bowstring, every muscle tense as she edged closer and closer to release, holding my face to her center as she rides the waves of pleasure. "Oh God, I’m so close, baby," she said in a desperate whisper. "Keep going, just a little more… oh just a little more…"

With her words of encouragement, I flicked my tongue faster over her clit and found just the right spot inside to make her come undone. Her legs began to shake and I knew she was ready. “Come for me, kitten.”

Her body tensed even further as I fucked her faster, harder, her muscles coiled as tight as a spring. And then, with a loud, guttural moan, she finally succumbed to the pleasure, her body shaking with the intensity of her orgasm. "Oh God… oh God… yes, that’s it baby," she gasped, her eyes closed and her head thrown back in ecstasy. "Oh… oh… yes, oh yes… oh yes, yes, yessss…" I caught her as she lost the ability to stand upright, gently bringing her down to my level. “Fuck, Mel, that was hot,” I muttered between panting.

She collapses into my arms, her body boneless and trembling. She let out a low, throaty laugh as she leaned against me, trying to catch her breath.

"That… that was incredible, hon" she managed between gasps from the aftershocks. "You are too damn good at that." I kissed her temple gently, the first gentle act since the whole thing started.

Melissa leaned further into my touch, her body still trembling slightly as she came down from the high of her release. Her eyes fluttered shut as my lips brushed her temple, a small smile on her lips. "I don’t remember the last time I’ve come that hard," she said, her voice still a bit shaky. "You really know how to push my buttons, don’t ya, kid?"

I winked at her and kissed her lips. “Just as you know how to push mine… I’m still dripping for you, mommy…”

Melissa let out a sultry chuckle as she kissed me back. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, tasting herself on my lips. Her arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer as she pressed her body against mine. "Mmhm. I know you are, little mouse," she murmured, her voice low and dangerous. "And I intend to take care of that problem."

I moaned as her tongue darted into my mouth again. Melissa’s grip on me tightened as she adjusted her position over me. She broke the kiss, leaving a string of saliva connecting our lips as she grinned down at me. "Oh, darling, there are so many things I could do to you," she purred, her hand slowly trailing down my body. "But for now, I want to see you undone, just like I was."

Her hands on my body felt like fire and I wanted more. I tore my shirt off and pulled down my skirt. “I’m not far from it, kitten.” Melissa’s eyes roamed over my body as I removed my clothes, her gaze dark with hunger. She took a moment to admire the sight of my body, before she reached up to caress my bare skin with her hands.

"God, you’re just as gorgeous as I dreamed you would be," she hummed, her voice filled with awe. Her fingers traced the lines of my curves, her touch gentle and yet possessive.

I cocked my head and gave her a confused smile. “You’ve dreamed about me? About this? I thought you hated me,” I half whined.

Melissa chuckled, her fingers continuing their journey across my skin. There was a hint of amusement in her tone as she answered me. "Oh hon, I don’t hate you. I never hated you," she said, her voice soft. "It’s more like you pushed all my buttons and got under my skin. But let me tell you, there’s a fine line between rage and desire. Seems like you found it." Melissa captured my neck in a love bite, caressing my breast with one hand and my ass with the other. She moaned against my skin as she tasted me, her tongue gliding over the now-marked flesh. My entire body shivered with want and she grinned against my neck as she felt your reaction, her grip on you strong and possessive. My head fell back as I gave myself completely over to her.

Melissa’s tongue followed the line of my neck down to my collar bone, leaving a trail of kisses and bites. She pulled me closer, her body pressed completely against mine as her hands continued to caress and explore. "You’re doing so well, baby girl," she mumbled against my skin, her voice thick. "Just relax." Melissa maneuvered her thigh between my legs and I immediately rolled my hips down.

The redhead let out a moan as my wetness dripped down onto her thigh, her own body responding to the action. Her hands gripped my hips, holding me in place as she watched me move against her. "Oh, mouse, you’re so responsive," she purred, her voice low with desire. "You’re already begging for it, aren’t you?" I bit my lip and nodded sharply

“I need you mommy, I want you inside me,” I growled, sending electric waves down her spine.

Her eyes flashed with desire as I bit admitted my need. She grinned wickedly as she responded, her hands running up and down my back.

"Such an impatient little mouse," she murmured. "But who is mommy to deny you what you want? Just be careful what you wish for, baby." Melissa snaked her hand down to my core and thumbed over my aching clit with ease.

I hissed in pleasure at the contact if been waiting for, “Yessssss mmmm…”

She watched my face as she touched me, a smug grin on her lips as she saw the effect she had on me. "Does that feel good, little mouse?" she purred, her voice lower than usual. "You like it when mommy takes care of you?"

I bucked my hips further into her hand, leaving her palm wet, again unable to form words. Her hand remained firmly against me, her thumb continuing to tease my sensitive spot. She smirked as she felt the evidence of my desire on her palm, and she increased the pressure of her touch. "You’re so eager for me, baby," she husked, her voice thick with arousal. "I can feel how much you need this. How badly you want me to take care of you, right here, right now."

I groan loud, needing more, “Inside, please.” Melissa’s smirk widened at my plea, satisfaction coursing through. She pulled me closer, her lips just a breath away from my own.

"What do you want inside, baby?” she whispered, her voice low and sultry. “I need to hear you say it."

I looked into her eyes, hungry for release. “I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me with your fingers until you make me come.”

A low groan escaped Melissa at my words, her body responding to my need. Her hand slid lower, her fingers teasing at my entrance. She captured my face with her other hand, her grip firm as she forced me to meet her gaze. "You’re being so good for me, little mouse." Melissa’s fingers at my entrance drove me wild. I’d been on the edge of an orgasm since the first kiss, I was so sensitive and ready for her. I moaned and bucked, writhing under her touch. “Please please please, I need y-” I gasped as she filled me with two fingers. “F-f-fuck I’m already so close, you feel so good.”

Melissa’s eyes nearly went black with lust, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she took in the sight of me. She ran the fingers of her other hand down my cheek, her touch gentler now. "Oh no, hon. You don’t get to come just yet," she husked, her voice low and raspy. "Not until I say so. So be a good little mouse and hold on for me."

I nodded, holding in my release as she inserted a third and final finger, filling me up completely. “OH! Ohhhh yessss yes yes!”

She watched my face, taking in every expression and whimper. Her tone still commanding, yet also soothing she says, "That’s it, little mouse, hold it for me," her breath warm against my skin. "Just a bit longer. You’re being so good for me. I know you can do this." She pumped her fingers at just the right speed, hitting that spot just right.

“Mel, I’m so c-close,” I whined, my face scrunching in focus.

Melissa kept her pace and angle, hitting the spot repeatedly as she watched me grow closer and closer to the edge. Her face flushed, and her own breath now came in pants as she worked me towards release. "Just hold on a little longer, baby," she whispered. "You’re doing so well. You feel so tight and hot around my fingers, so good. Just a few more moments, and then I’ll let you come. Just a few more moments, I promise."

Her words drove me crazy, the heat building up was almost too much to bear. I leaned down and bit her shoulder, using it as a distraction to keep me from going over the edge without permission. “Mmmmm-mommy please,” I begged as I rode her fingers.

Her breath hitched as I bit down on her shoulder, the sting of pain adding to her arousal. "Not yet, little mouse," she growled, her voice gruff and commanding. "You’re being such a good girl, but you have to wait for my permission. Just a little longer. Almost there." Melissa felt my body tensing, sensing just how close I was to release.

My eyes rolled back and I almost went limp in her arms. Melissa watched as I grew more boneless, my body riding her fingers more on instinct than anything else. "That’s it, baby girl, ride them just like that," she whispered, her voice thick with lust. "You’re being so good for me. But not yet. Not yet. Just hold on a little while longer."

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck, oh mommy, please let me come, I can’t hold it anymore,” I cried as her thumb met my clit again.

Melissa looked up at my face, her own expression filled with need and awe at the control I exerted over my body. She knew she’d pushed me to the limit. She grinned, her eyes roaming over my body. "You’ve been such a good little mouse," she said huskily . "You’ve held on for so long. You’re so good. So desperate. I think you’ve earned permission now, don’t you?" All I could do was gasp and moan in response.

She knew I’d held on as long as I could, and she wasn’t going to make me wait anymore. "Come for me, baby girl," she ordered, her voice firm. "You’ve earned it, mouse. Let go. Now."

My orgasm washed over me with an intensity I’d never experienced before, and it felt even better knowing Melissa Schemmenti got me there. “OHHH fuck! Oh yes! Yes yes yessss! Mmmm oh God, Melissa!” I trembled and shook as I collapsed in her arms, completely out of breath.

Melissa watched as I let go and held me close as I came down, her eyes wide with awe at the intensity of my release. The feel of me trembling and shaking against her brought a smug grin to her face, her own arousal ramping up again at the sight of my pleasure. "That’s my good little mouse," she cooed, placing gentle kisses on my cheek and in my hair. "You came so hard for me, I’m so proud of you."

“Good God, Melissa,” I said between pants, still coming down from my high, “holy shit.”

Melissa held me tight as you rode out the aftershocks of my orgasm, her arms wrapped around me as I come back down to earth. She chuckled softly as she listened to my shaky breaths and shaky voice. "That good, huh?" she teased, her voice smug. "I guess that means you enjoyed yourself."

I lifted my head from her shoulder and looked at her through half lidded eyes, “I don’t think I can ever fuck anyone else now.”

Melissa smiled at my words, her eyes roaming over my face. Her hands moved across my back as she watched me catch my breath. "Well, I can’t say I’m disappointed to hear that," she husked, a smug grin on her lips. "After all, I don’t like sharing my toys."

My eyes closed as I smiled at her remark. “Kiss me?”

Melissa chuckled at my request, her lips curving up at the corners. She cupped my face with one hand and drew me closer, her eyes locking with my own as she leaned in. "Since you asked so nicely," she said, her voice low and sultry. And then her lips were on mine, claiming my mouth in a kiss. It was sweet and gentle, a sharp contrast to the entirety of our escapade.

I glanced at the clock as our lips parted. “Think we should get outta here? I’m sure Mr. Johnson’s been ready to lock up for a while now.”

Melissa hums, her eyes still closed as she savored the sweetness of the kiss. When she finally opened them, she nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you're right," she said with a soft chuckle. "We should probably head out. But we're definitely resuming this back at my place."

There was a flash of hunger in both of our eyes and I licked my lips. “Oh yeah? Then let’s get goin’.” I tossed her her pants and got myself dressed, straightening my hair and smeared makeup in the reflection of the window.

Melissa laughed as she caught her pants and quickly pulled them on. She watched me tidy myself up, a satisfied smirk on her face. She could tell I was eager to get back to her place, and she felt the same way. "Can’t believe you’re still trying to make yourself presentable after what we just did," she teased.

I blushed a deep red. “Not for you, just in case we happen upon Mr. Johnson on the way out!” I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her again.

Melissa smiled against my lips, enjoying the feeling of being in my arms. She wrapped her own arms around me, pulling me close as she kissed me deeply. "You’re adorable," she mumbled when the kiss ended, her eyes flicking over to the door. "And smart. Let’s get out of here before Mr. Johnson catches us."

I giggled like a schoolgirl and grabbed her wrist, “C’mon, kitten! We have things to do.”

The redhead followed me out into the hallway, her hand in mine. The nickname "kitten" made her heart flutter, and she matched my pace easily as we headed towards the car."You're in a rush, aren't you?" She teased as she glanced at me, a sly smile on her lips. "Can't wait to get me home and all alone, huh?"

I bit my lip and gave her a mischievous grin. “God Mel, I’m already dying for round two.” I winked at her and we rounded the corner to see Mr. Johnson standing there with his mop in hand, staring us down.

Melissa's eyes went wide as we came face to face with Mr. Johnson. As he stood there it became increasingly obvious he knew what happened in that classroom, and he was not mincing words. "Out a little late tonight, aren't we ladies?" he asked gruffly, his eyes moving from you to Melissa and back again. Both of our faces matched Melissa’s hair in that moment.

“$50 and you tell no one, Mr. J…” I offered, hoping to save us from some embarrassment in the teachers lounge.

Mr. Johnson considered it for a moment, his expression stern. Then he let out a small laugh and extended his hand. "$50 and my lips are sealed," he said. "But this better not become a regular occurrence, you hear me?"

I took my wallet out and handed him a crisp $50 bill, then mock saluted him. “Yes sir!”

Mr. Johnson pocketed the bribe money and nodded at me in acknowledgement. He turned his gaze to Melissa, his expression still stern. "You’re a terrible influence, Schemmenti," he huffed. "That poor girl didn’t stand a chance."

Mr. Johnson watched as Melissa tried to suppress her laugh, his eyes narrowing in mock annoyance. He shook his head and pointed his mop in her direction. "You’re a menace," he grumbled. "Now get outta here before I change my mind about keeping quiet."

I pulled Melissa’s arm and started walking very quickly to the exit. “Thanks, Mr. J! See ya Monday!” We didn’t stop until we got to Melissa’s car.

“The whole school is gonna know, aren’t they,” I asked as I buckled into the passenger seat.

Melissa cackled, her face still red with embarrassment. "Oh, absolutely," she replied. "Mr. Johnson couldn’t resist the bribe money, but he’s definitely the biggest gossip at Abbott. They’ll probably know by breakfast tomorrow, and if not then by Monday morning guaranteed.” She settled into her seat and started the car as she buckled in. I gave her a look of disbelief.

“You coulda told me and saved me $50! You so owe me, Schemmenti!” I smacked her arm and then placed my hand on her thigh, squeezing slightly.

“Definitely thinking of ways I can make it up to you…,” Her pupils dilated as she took my hand in hers. My head fell back in another laugh.

“Then step on it, Jeeves!”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Riddle, Vil: A Family Affair

Riddle’s vignettes are so… interesting?? We can see how he’s trying to take small steps to have more agency. I like to think that, very slowly, he’s coming into his own as a young man, an entity separate from his mother.

It’s nice that Riddle’s Groovy shows him in a fun pose. You’d think that someone as strict as him wouldn’t want to fly abnormally, but you can tell it's a manner that's unique to him. Riddle may be upside down like Floyd is in his own Broomquet Groovy, but you can tell that there is a marked difference between the two. Riddle’s holding bis broom in a much more secure way, which is reflective of his personality, whereas Floyd is much more precarious in his pose. It reflects their personalities well!

And now we wait for Jamil’s Birthday Platinum Jacket SSR… 👀

A Boy in Bloom, and his Flowering Future.

“What do you want to do in the coming year?”

Riddle cleared his throat and stood straight as he provided his reply. He was the model student, interviewee... and, of course, birthday boy. "I would like to expand my culinary knowledge."

Vil arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "Judging by your prompt response, I take it that you studied the interview questions and prepared suitable answers for them in advance. How like you--but what a surprise that you have a goal that isn't related to school. You're infamous for your tenacity in that regard."

"I-I am capable outside of the realm of academics too!" Riddle hastily said with a frown. “… Though I admit I may be lacking in some departments. That is precisely why I would like to dedicate time and energy to strengthening my areas of weakness.”

"Oh, please. You can't possibly be as nightmarish at cooking as..." Vil paused, shuddering, "Lilia is."

The birthday boy paled at the mention of his senior. Lilia, who left kitchens looking like a natural disaster had torn through an active warzone. Lilia, who tossed in everything under the sink and then some. Lilia, who was known across campus for all manner of food borne illnesses and poisonings.

"Surely not!!" Riddle insisted. "I know how to read and follow a recipe! The issue lies in flexibility. Trey is able to make an entire meal just from leftovers, but I wouldn't be able to do the same."

"My, if you're concerned about food waste, couldn't you simply ask Trey to teach you? I'm certain he wouldn't refuse you. That man is too nice for his own good."

"Perhaps that's true. But even so... this is a skill I'd like to learn for myself. I don't want to become overly reliant on others' strength. What I must cultivate first and foremost is my own. To that end, I plan on enrolling in more Master Chef courses during my time at NRC. There are many styles of cooking I've yet to master. For example, Trey prepares meals that are very different from that of my mother."

"How so?"

"Well..." Riddle hesitated. The way he gnawed at his lower lip reminded Vil of an anxious rabbit--a far cry from the self-assured dorm leader he knew Riddle as.

"Mother cooks with nutrition as her priority. She is very health conscious and goes out of her way to ensure that I am eating what I need. When I am studying at home, she brews tea to drink. It's rare that my entire family comes together for a meal, given that we're all busy.

"Meanwhile, Trey's food is... I can't quite put a finger on it, but it's flavorful and fun, yet balanced. The experiences are unique from my time at home. Sometimes it's something warm, hearty, and comforting like hamburger steak. Sometimes it's something hopelessly indulgent and loaded with sugar, like tarts decorated with jewel-like fruits."

"Your eyes are shining." Vil smirked. "You enjoy his cooking that much?"

"I don't understand it myself," Riddle replied, scrunching his brows. "When Trey cooks, people are lured by the smell and gather around the table, wanting to join for the meal. It happened the other day when I was to eat with him and Cater. Ace and Deuce barged in on us, and... well, I suppose it wasn't all bad. We had a delightful conversation over lunch. There's something magical about that."

"There is a different feeling to eating with others than alone," Vil agreed with a slight nod. "My father and I can hardly align our schedules, so it's rare that we can sit down and eat together. Then again, maybe it's that rarity that makes us appreciate those moments all the more."

"That's right. It's a special spell that I realized I can't reproduce. Just memorizing the recipes and recreating them... that alone isn't enough."

"Fufufu, so you want to master that kind of 'magic'. That's surprisingly cute of you."

"N-No, you're mistaken! While it's true that cooking would come in handy for entertaining guests, it'd primarily be for self-sufficiency. After all, it's not as though I can always ask Trey or my mother to cook for me." Riddle shifted from one foot to another. "Someday, I'll have to move out of my dorm as well as my house, and live independently as a fine adult."

"Yes, cooking is an essential skill for that distant future. Have you already started on making those arrangements?"

"Er, not yet. I've been looking into it, but to actually take those first physical steps is... that is, I don't know how my mother would react."

"She sounds very stern from what you've told me of her. However, every mother must let her child go eventually."

"Maybe so, but I have never known my mother to back down from her beliefs. She's... not a woman you want to challenge." Riddle's voice strained at the final word. It was the lightest way he could put it, too afraid to acknowledge the whole truth. "I've tried to get her to hear me out, but..."

"If you can't draw that line in the sand now, then when? It will only make things more difficult for you when you start live alone."

"I'm fully aware of that." He couldn't bring himself to say more.

Vil sighed, bringing a hand to his temple. "... Listen, Riddle. Think of life as a stage, and you as the actor upon it. Worried about how the audience will react to your performance, working tirelessly to hone your craft.

“When the lights dim and the cameras turn off, the staff and the audience leave the theatre. You’ll be left only with your own thoughts. The onlookers may have one impression of you—but when the curtains fall, so long as you are proud of who you are away from the public eye, that, I think, is a sign of true maturity.

“If it’s courage and confidence that you seek, then you must work toward it. Never let your eyes stray from it. Even should the world deprive you of a happy ending, you must claw for it, believing that, someday, it will be yours.”

“Vil-senpai… Is this your way of encouraging me to see my goals through to the very end?”

His upperclassman scoffed. Thin, soft—like a rose petal, almost imperceptible as it passed upon a breeze.

“Think of it what your will. I merely speak from my own experience,” Vil replied. “We are both prideful NRC students at our very cores. Standing strong on our own two feet is something we all desire. That we can one day recognize that dream… It goes for us all.”

“Recognizing a dream, hm?”

How curious. I wondered not too long ago if it was really possible. Now, here I am, taking those first, small baby steps. A world where I can think for myself, live by my own rules… It sounds like a wonderland within my reach.

Soon, but not yet.

“… One day,” Riddle whispered to himself. “One day, I’ll be the person I want to be.”

Not the person I’m told to be.

A palm came against his back—a pat from Vil. “Really, I thought the dorm leader of Heartslabyul would know better than to mumble. You’re usually so good at barking at your card soldiers. Do remember to speak up—now, and forevermore.”

“I don’t recall asking for your advice.” Riddle brushed off his touch, stepping forward with his broom at the ready. Still, he chuckled. “… But yes, I will work on gathering my courage so that I may be comfortable leaving the nest. Thank you for your concern, senpai.”

“Ara, what cheek.” Vil tossed his golden locks. “If I’m to share the stage with you, then of course your skills must be on par with mine. Don’t you dare disappoint me, understood?”

“Hmph, when have I ever been the type to fall short of meeting expectations? Observe.”

Riddle confidently mounted his broom, assuming the position he had practiced many times over. There was a diagram of this exact pose in the mountain of textbooks he had in his dorm room. Straddling the handle between the legs, arms straight and steady, one hand gripped over the other, elbows locked.

He could have been the textbook diagram himself.

When Riddle looked up, he saw the vast sky, sunlight spilling across the sea that surrounded the island. Sunset on its way to soon paint the day with darkness.

The sky… It connects many different places and people. The future is stretching out before me, chalk full of possibilities.

Then… I can try, can I? To soar, to break free. Just this once…!!

Riddle’s hold on his broom tightened.

He called forth his magic, letting it pool around him in a shower of scarlet sparkles. The power collected, coalescing as a tingling warmth dancing across his skin, until he at last unleashed it in one burst. Like a cap popped off on a bottle.

Riddle buckled off, propelling into the air in a corkscrew motion. Rose petals fell free from his bouquet, perfuming the summer sky with them.

“Whew…!”

He stopped spinning, flying forward upside down. The world shifted, shapes and colors rearranging into a new perspective. His head and vision spun, seemingly colliding all of his senses against one another.

A moment or two later, and they had rattled neatly into place.

Riddle looked again, taking it all in. Rich gold dappling the grand spires of Night Raven College, the honeyed aroma of roses, the wind from on high tickling his lashes. The delicious freedom of flying freely.

“… Hah.”

Who knew it could taste so sweet?

[wri0thesley]

For your ask prompts: Kunzea with Wriothesley? :D

K - Kunzea (power): “C'mon, love, we both know who’s in charge here.”

cw: fem reader ("atta girl"), vague allusions to sexual assault, dub-con, yandere

You're trembling, and you know he can see it.

He has the nerve to smile. He's looking at you like you're a kitten puffing up their tail before being put in a basket for the first time; the kind of smile one has for a poor little creature who's just too silly for its own good. Your grip on the blade tightens.

"Don't come any closer," you tell him, and your teeth chatter.

It had taken you weeks to be able to get a hold of anything that could do some real harm. Watching Wriothesley in his office after he'd called you in for some infraction or another (these infractions always end in punishment; in his hand against your bare rump, in your body bent in half over his desk, in his grip iron tight around your waist as he dances with you and the gramophone scratches through some old love song), memorising where he kept his things in the hope it would serve you in the future.

"Put the letter opener down," he says to you, his tone remaining almost genial, "and I'll pretend that you're not threatening the Administrator of the Fortress of Meropide."

"No," you reply, voice pitching too high, and you make a pathetic little thrust forward at the same time as you take a step back. There's nothing solid in between you - and in your attempt to get away from him and put some distance between his body and yours, you reach the wall, your shoulders bumping against the shelf of books set into the stone. One of them tumbles over your shoulder and you wince as it hits the ground and the fragile binding gives out, the weak glue separating cover from pages. "I-- I won't let you--!"

"That was expensive," he says, mildly. "Another six months onto your sentence for wilful destruction of property? You poor thing."

"I-- I'll serve my sentence," you say to him, and though you wish you sounded sure of yourself, your voice trembles like the needle on his gramophone. "But I won't let you--"

"Won't let me what, sweetheart?" He asks, taking a slow step towards you. The sound of his heavy boot sole hitting solid ground almost sets you into fight or flight - the sound of his handcuffs rattling and his chains clinking makes your stomach twist. "Won't let me take care of you? Won't let me love you?"

"You don't love me," you say to him. He's getting too close to you. You can smell the scent he wears on the air; something like sandalwood and freshly brewed tea. "You just-- you're just a monster--!"

His face twitches. He takes four or five quicker steps, and suddenly his hand is fastened bone-crush tight around your wrist - the one holding his engraved silver letter opener. You cry out, his fingers rough against the sensitive skin - handcuffs in their own right.

"You don't think I love you?" He growls, so low he sounds like a wolf. "You think you'd survive a minute out there without my protection? You think that the inmates aren't just raring to get their teeth into your pretty soft skin and show you what it's supposed to be like for new blood here?"

"You're . . . the things you do to me--" Your voice is clogged with tears.

"Maybe I should let them have you," he snarls. "You'd come fucking crying to me begging for a spanking instead if I let some of the criminals in here lay their hands on you. Could even get your cell reassigned; somewhere close to the tunnels so they have somewhere to take you none of the guards will hear you scream."

Your courage is running out, sand dripping through an hourglass. Your grip on the letter opener is faltering. You think about the side-eye glances you get in the cafeteria sometimes, the whispers that stop when you come near.

You'd always assumed it was because he had singled you out like this. Oh, it's not public knowledge - but there's something easy to work out about a prisoner called to the Duke's office who often leaves it lips-swollen and limping a little.

You had never thought it might be because Wriothesley's favour protects you.

You wouldn't need his protection, if he hadn't started this in the first place.

"Well?" He probes. "Do you want that? Do you want me to stop loving you? I can, if that's what you want. I could stop loving you and watch you get torn to fucking pieces."

Your body is wracked with shivers. The air in his office suddenly feels close and heavy; you are reminded, more than ever, that you are in a prison at the bottom of the sea.

You shake your head mutely, your eyes flashing to the hard-won silver prize in your grip.

He eases up, just a touch.

"C'mon," he says, smiling again. "Put it down. We both know who's in charge here, sweetheart, and it's not the one trembling like an otter with its paw caught in a mekafish corpse."

His fingers loosen up on your wrist and he presents his gloved hand to you, palm up. Those eyes fasten on you with rigid intensity, and you know he is waiting for your decision.

The wolf, or the villagers who are ready to form a mob for you at any moment?

You place the letter opener in his hand.

"Atta girl."

At least the wolf is a monster you know.

[dravenscroft]

So my wife and I have been playing an entirely home-brewed survival ttrpg for The Terror, which I highly recommend. We made up a lot of the rules ourselves, very meticulously, and take turns as the GM, as we have a rough 'plot' outline and have written a ton of 'situation' cards - where we pull a 'situation', have to react and roll accordingly, and then we have to factor anything that happens as a result into the overall narrative we've got going on. (Situations so far include things like a small galley fire, the ship's dog going missing, roll for how much of your tinned food is spoiled, someone falls from the yardarm etc)

The classes are based on rank (officer, seaman, marine, etc) and have different skills, strengths, and weaknesses respectively. It's fantastic.

You can kind of just invent your own guys for it, but we're doing it with the actual characters because it's 1) fun and 2) easier than making up new guys. I'm an author, I make up new guys for a living, I need a BREAK.

We each have three characters and before we pull a 'situation' card, we have to roll to see which of our characters we're playing. I play Hickey, Tozer, and Goodsir. (It's funny because obviously Hickey has the OPTION to Do A Mutiny, but he's done the maths and it looks bleak if he does, so he possibly won't in this game)

ANYWAY all of this to tell you about the funniest possible 'situation' I rolled as Hickey - 'You overhear someone saying it's possible to grow greenery on the warm galley pipes, which might fend off scurvy. What do you do?'

Now this is a real thing Parry successfully did in eighteen-twenty, curing a crewmate of scurvy with mustard and cress grown on the galley pipes. So not nonsense at all.

Naturally I thought, well, Hickey would probably give this a go because 1) it's something to do other than the work he's supposed to be doing and 2) in the unlikely even it's successful, you KNOW he wants that approval from Crozier and 3) he doesn't want scurvy himself.

So what followed was something of a skit with him going from crew member to crew member trying to obtain The Goods to do this guerrilla gardening. Asking people for scraps of wool clothing they couldn't mend to use as some kind of substrate, with everyone being kind of like 'oh god, take it, but whatever you're doing I don't want to know'. Then he had to steal some mustard seeds, and locate a spot unlikely to be noticed to place the whole thing.

It was funny, and I didn't expect it to work, but lo and behold I rolled and had moderate success, and a few days later we had MUSTARD sprouting.

At which point Hickey had to tell SOMEONE about it. It ended up so funny because everyone is like 'wow well done you may have just saved all our lives!' and Hickey was NOT expecting that, this man lives to be a menace and was just trying his luck, so having people genuinely praise him and credit him with having possibly saved lives is just kind of,

Basically I highly recommend doing something similar.

Let me know if you want to know more updates as the game progresses.

Also I low-key want someone to write a fic about Hickey's guerrilla galley garden lmao.

[t-t-tau-me]

Burning Bitterness: Cha 1 (White Lily Cookie)

Burning Bitterness (Divide)

The past affects all cookies. Young and old, strong and weak, even species outside of cookie kind. The past causes everyone to fear the future…But what if you could control it?

Special thanks to @brittle-doughie for inspiring/helping make this fanfic, You're awesome!

The Silver Kingdom was filled with merriment and the sugary smell of sweets. In honor of White Lily Cookie taking up the role Elder Fairy Cookie had left behind, the fairy cookies insisted on celebrating. White Lily Cookie was against the idea at first, but you promised to be by her side during the event...And yet, they seem to be absent. An uneasy feeling brewed like a cauldron in White Lily Cookie’s stomach, gradually bubbling as the combination of social exhaustion and your absence made it hard to appreciate the party thrown in her honor. 

Silverbell Cookie: “White Lily Cookie…is everything alright, Your Majesty?” In the brief moment White Lily Cookie had lost herself in her thoughts, a familiar fairy guard had flown by her side, a look of slight worry on his face.

White Lily Cookie: “Ah! Silverbell Cookie…My apologies, I guess I let my mind wander too much.” She said with the slightest blush highlighting her cheeks, holding her Lily staff closer. A month of being the ruler of the Silver Kingdom and she was still making the same mistakes…

The fairy archer merely chuckled in response 

Silverbell Cookie: “It's quite alright, Your Majesty. I've known you for long enough to know that you have a lot on your mind, So there's no need to apologize…although…something seems to be troubling you.”

White Lily Cookie couldn't help but hang her head in shame a little. Had her worry been so plain to see this entire time? 

White Lily Cookie: “Well…I suppose there is something…Y/N Cookie said they would be here, and yet they seem to be absent…This isn't the first time they've disappeared without a trace, But they've never broken a promise before.”

Silverbell Cookie: “I would be more than happy to retrieve them for you, Maybe they just lost track of time?” Silver Bell said with a warm smile. 

White Lily Cookie met the fairy cookie’s smile with her own, pausing for a moment to think. 

White Lily Cookie: “No need, I'll go and find Y/N Cookie myself. The fairy cookies have been working tirelessly and deserve a break. Besides, This may be a good opportunity for me to talk with them…they've been strangely distant lately.” 

Now that White Lily Cookie had formed a plan, her worried expression had been replaced with the more familiar resolve that the guard fairy was familiar with. Even though White Lily Cookie could seem meek at times compared to The other ancients, there were times when her resolve rivaled that of Dark Cacao Cookie.

Silverbell Cookie: “As you wish, your Majesty…just try not to take too long, this party is in your honor after all.” With a quick bow, The Fairy Archer flew back into the crowd.

With Silverbell Cookie’s worries sated for the time being, It was time for White Lily Cookie to locate where you had disappeared to.

With her staff clenched anxiously in hand and her growing desire to find the cause of your broken promise, White Lily Cookie found herself in the Faerie Library. The music from outside was nothing but a low hum that leaked from the windows, and the enchanting aroma of food was left at the party. The metallic scent of silver made the fairy kingdom quite distinct compared to other places on Earthbread. To many, the absence of flavorful senses would be quite haunting, But within the continent of Beast-Yeast, it was a welcome haven from the overwhelming atmosphere.

White Lily Cookie couldn't help but find her eyes wandering the library. Her thirst for knowledge had brought her to this place many times…So many memories…So many regrets…for the time being White Lily Cookie pushed the nostalgic memories away, she needed to find you to make sure everything was alright! 

Luckily for the ancient hero, she wouldn't have to search much longer for her close confidant. Sitting at a table with music sheets spread across it, you stare out a nearby window with disinterest and irritation. You could already tell by the footsteps echoing in the empty library that she had found you…A heavy dread finds itself in the pit of your stomach, making it near impossible to meet eyes with the ancient hero.

She calls out your name, face beaming as she begins quickly making her way over to you. Her tone is that of someone filled with overwhelming joy, most likely because she had scared herself with the possibilities as to why you weren't at the festivities…The combination of guilt from past actions and The curse of her imagination made for a sour blend of anxiety.

As White Lily Cookie made her way closer, she felt herself stop in her tracks. A wave of unease hit as she took a closer look at you. You looked exhausted. She saw the way you shifted in the chair when she came close, the way you stared at the window aimlessly as if you were hesitating about something. You looked so… fragile. The ancient hero began to worry, running through all the scenarios in her head…something felt wrong.

White Lily Cookie: “Y/N cookie? Is everything okay? You weren't at the party so I began to worry.” her hands absentmindedly fiddled with the powerful staff she held, her features softened as she readied herself for whatever burden was resting on your shoulders.

Y/N Cookie: “Do you believe freedom is a good thing, White Lily Cookie?” You say in an ominous tone, one that White Lily Cookie rarely ever heard from you, Your tired glare still fixed on the nearby window. 

White Lily Cookie: “Huh? Of course, Y/N Cookie! Freedom is what allows cookies to be who they are! It allows them to love, create, and discover brand new things.” White Lily Cookie's answer was somewhat hesitant. not out of disbelief of her own words, but rather the sheer Perplexing nature of the question you proposed. 

Her words still shined true with the light of freedom, As rich as the very soul jam that represented this virtue…You can't help but grimace at those words, a burning mixture of emotion seething underneath your dough.

Y/N Cookie: “Is that truly what you believe? The ultimate conclusion you've come to despite everything you've done?” A sour strip of malice lingered on those words

White Lily Cookie was taken aback at your strange hostility, But before she could begin to question it, you continued.

Y/N Cookie: “The Blueberry Yogurt Academy, The deal with the legendary red dragon and...Dark Enchantress Cookie herself. The more stories I hear, the more I question if freedom is really a virtue...and not a curse” You can't help but hear your own grief within your voice. The mere mention of the past events threatens to melt away your mask and leave you a weeping fool…But you would not allow such weakness to occur while faced with the ancient hero, as you couldn't afford your words to be tainted by her pity for you.

White Lily Cookie: “Y/N Cookie...I had no idea you felt such a way. You had always been so supportive...I never could have imagined you had such thoughts" she spoke somberly as she mauled over your statement. The sins of her past acted As a judge's gavel, a haunting tool that threatened to sentence her to a life of self-loathing.

For a split second, White Lily Cookie heard the sadness in your voice, and that was all she needed to realize how rich your despair was. Cookies that had been crumbled…civilizations that were destroyed…You have been secretly grieving these haunting events without her knowing, chipping away at you and corroding the friendship you both shared. A part of White Lily Cookie wanted to turn away, to avoid the pain and to ignore yours…But she refused.

Back when she had reawakened, White Lily Cookie was nearly swallowed by the guilt of her past mistakes…But thanks to her old friend Pure Vanilla Cookie and his new companions, she found new strength to try and forge a better future. She couldn't afford to let grief hold her back, and she wasn't going to allow it to do the same to you.

White Lily Cookie: "I've done...Many unforgivable things, But the light of freedom allows me to try and repent for my mista-”

Y/N Cookie: “Enough already!” Your voice boomed across the empty hall of the library, causing the walls to shake and White Lily Cookie to flinch. “All you ancient "heroes" ever do is rely on your virtues, but where is that led you!? All you've done with your "freedom" is destroy!” 

The spice of rage…The bitterness of hatred…The two vile ingredients performed a malevolent dance as they mixed into one another, becoming near indistinguishable from one another. You can practically feel it eating away at the sweet empathy you had for your “friend”, like a greedy cake monster devouring everything in its wake…..and yet...

Y/N cookie: “...How can I trust you, let alone be at your side when everything around you crumbles away?” You finally turn to look at White Lily Cookie, Your fear of seeing the hurt on her face having prevented you from looking until now…You were both just cookies at the end of the day, ones who cared deeply for this world…Making your actions all the more necessary.

Each word was like a sharp knight penetrating White Lily Cookie's heart. She had these thoughts hundreds of times, But to have a cookie so close to you say it with such...Vitriol…Whatever words white Lily may have wanted to use to defend herself, dissolved away in a soggy clump of despair...Could this be his doing?

You finally stand from your seat, filling White Lily Cookie with a raw unease she had never felt from you. You begin to approach the anxious ancient, causing her to step back in response and to hold her staff more defensively. This action doesn't phase you As you make your way to White Lily Cookie, the rhythmic tapping of your approaching footsteps seemed almost like a defiant response.

There's a few feet between the two cookies standing in the library. The damage that your words had done was visible on her face, trying her best to wear a mask of somberness to hide the herd from such heinous words...You find it strange you can still feel some empathy towards the cookie who had caused so much destruction…This is the only way to make it to your solution.

Y/N Cookie: “The light of freedom has proven itself to be far too dangerous…..I might have a solution.” Her face of woe turns to one of confusion and you take this as your cue to continue. “Freedom allows cookies like dark enchantress and the beasts to do horrific deeds, for cake monsters to consume cookies...And for evil to run wild.....But what if...We use the power of your soul jam to bring in a new era of order? No more fighting, no more chaos…just peace.” Even though your tone had softened a bit as you went on, the severity of what you were asking wasn't lost on you…The real question is was she willing to do what it took to protect all of Cookiekind?

White Lily Cookie's eyes widen with terror, were you suggesting what she thought you were?... How could the cookie closest to White Lily suggest such a horrid thing?! Taking freedom away from anyone, regardless of their actions was...monstrous. This HAD to be the work of Shadow Milk Cookie! The magic she had used to reseal the tree wasn't nearly as strong as the witches, But she had truly believed she had bought everyone time…

And yet…she remembered how showboating and impatient Shadow Milk Cookie could be, as being sealed away left him starved for attention…could this truly be your own decision?

[End of part one]

The Fates of cookies are as malleable as fresh dough, with the smallest addition changing the entire recipe…What flavor would you like to try?

[stories4urhart]

"My Star"

Summary: The story revolves around Daisuke Kambe, a detective, and his pursuit of a street racer named Y/N. As their paths intertwine, they find an unexpected connection, exploring the complexities of their lives and emotions.

WC: 5k

Daisuke Kambe, a tall and lean detective with jet-black hair, moved through the crowded streets of the city with purpose. His impeccable appearance, right ear pierced, and well-tailored suit made him stand out even in the midst of the urban chaos. He was known for his sharp mind, relentless determination, and a penchant for solving cases that seemed unsolvable.

The latest case on Daisuke's plate involved a notorious street racer known only as Y/N. Rumors of Y/N's skills on the asphalt had reached legendary status, making them an elusive target for law enforcement. The thrill of the chase and the challenge of catching this enigmatic racer motivated Daisuke to pursue the case with unwavering intensity.

The streets were alive with the neon glow of the city as Daisuke received a tip about Y/N's whereabouts. The detective revved up his sleek black sports car, its engine humming with power as he set off in pursuit. The night air was charged with anticipation as Daisuke navigated through the winding streets, determined to bring an end to Y/N's high-speed escapades.

The chase was intense, with Daisuke skillfully maneuvering his car through tight corners and narrow alleys. Y/N, equally skilled, proved to be a formidable adversary, pushing their vehicle to the limits to stay ahead. The pursuit intensified, the city blurring into streaks of light as the two raced through the night.

Finally, in a heart-pounding moment, Daisuke managed to corner Y/N in a deserted industrial area. The detective stepped out of his car, his piercing gaze fixed on the elusive street racer. Y/N, face obscured by a helmet, revved their engine defiantly, the adrenaline of the chase still coursing through their veins.

"Game over," Daisuke declared, his voice cutting through the tension.

Daisuke Kambe stood amidst the wreckage, his eyes locked onto Y/N's helmeted face. "Looks like I'm caught," she said with a hint of a smirk, the adrenaline-induced rush transforming into a subtle flirtation.

Daisuke couldn't help but smirk in response, the air between them thick with tension that was no longer confined to the chase. The neon lights cast a romantic glow on the scene, and in the midst of the wreckage, something unexpected blossomed—a connection that transcended the boundaries of their roles.

"Caught, indeed," Daisuke replied, his usual stoic demeanor softened by the unexpected turn of events. "I have to say, you're a lot more interesting than I anticipated."

Y/N chuckled, the sound muffled by the helmet. "Well, Detective, maybe you're not so bad yourself. What now?"

Daisuke hesitated for a moment, his usual efficiency momentarily clouded by the unspoken attraction between them. "I suppose I should take you in, but..." He trailed off, his gaze lingering on Y/N's eyes.

"But?" Y/N prompted, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

Daisuke shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. "But I think I'll let you go. Just this once."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "You're letting me go? Why?"

Daisuke's piercing gaze softened. "Consider it a moment of weakness. Enjoy your freedom, Y/N. But know that this detective won't be so lenient next time."

With that, Daisuke turned and walked away, leaving Y/N stunned amidst the wreckage. The city lights reflected in her helmet as she watched him go, the thrill of the chase replaced by a newfound intrigue.

A few days later, in a quiet café tucked away from the bustling city, Daisuke and Y/N found themselves across from each other. The atmosphere was surprisingly calm, a stark contrast to the neon-lit chaos of their previous encounter.

In the quiet café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air as Daisuke Kambe and Y/N sat across from each other. The ambiance was serene, a stark contrast to the high-octane world they had inhabited just days before. Soft jazz played in the background, casting a gentle cadence over their conversation.

Daisuke sipped his black coffee, his gaze fixed on Y/N. "So, Y/N, what's the real story behind the street racing? It can't just be about the thrill."

Y/N sighed, her eyes momentarily clouded with a mixture of memories and emotions. "It started as an escape, you know? The rush, the freedom—it's addictive. But over time, it became something more. A way to feel alive in a world that often felt too mundane."

Daisuke's curiosity deepened. "And the risks? Getting caught by the police, the danger—do those add to the thrill?"

A wry smile tugged at Y/N's lips. "Perhaps. But there's something else, Detective. It's about pushing boundaries, testing limits. Living on the edge, even if it means risking everything."

As the conversation unfolded, the layers of their personalities peeled away, revealing vulnerabilities and shared experiences. Daisuke, known for his cool exterior, found himself opening up about the pressures of his job, the weight of expectations, and the isolation that came with it.

Y/N listened intently, her eyes reflecting a genuine understanding. "It sounds like we're not so different, Detective Kambe. Both of us trying to break free from the constraints of our lives in our own ways."

Daisuke nodded, acknowledging the unexpected connection between them. "Maybe. But there's a fine line between breaking free and recklessness. You have to be careful, Y/N."

A hint of gratitude flashed in Y/N's eyes. "You sound like you care, Detective. Is that just part of the job, or is there more to it?"

Daisuke hesitated, his usual confidence momentarily shaken. "Maybe there's more. Maybe I see something in you that I didn't expect. Something worth saving."

The air between them hung heavy with unspoken emotions, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. In that café, amidst the subtle hum of conversation and the clinking of coffee cups, a connection formed—one that transcended the roles of detective and street racer. 

As dawn becomes dusk they part ways with a smile. 

The city's neon-lit streets were a playground for those seeking the thrill of the night, and Daisuke Kambe patrolled them with a keen eye. His pursuit of Y/N, led him through winding alleys and bustling avenues. The night air crackled with the anticipation of the chase.

Daisuke's sleek black car cut through the urban landscape, a shadow in pursuit of another. The rhythmic hum of the engine echoed in the deserted streets as he closed in on the elusive racer. The city lights blurred into streaks of color, mirroring the adrenaline-fueled dance between detective and racer.

And then, in a burst of speed, Daisuke caught up to Y/N. The moment hung suspended in time as their eyes locked through the windshield, the pulse of the city syncing with the rapid beats of their hearts.

The chase came to an abrupt halt as Daisuke maneuvered his car to block Y/N's path. The street racer, her eyes reflecting a mix of defiance and exhilaration, brought her vehicle to a stop.

Daisuke stepped out of his car, his tall figure casting a commanding presence on the empty street. "Y/N," he called out, his voice cutting through the stillness of the night.

She emerged from her car, a mixture of surprise and resignation in her eyes. "Detective Kambe, you really know how to spoil the fun."

Daisuke approached, his gaze unwavering. "This isn't a game, Y/N. Street racing endangers lives, including your own. What are you running from?"

Y/N sighed, a vulnerability breaking through her tough exterior. "Sometimes, the speed is the only thing that makes sense, Detective. The city, with all its complexities, can be overwhelming."

Daisuke studied her for a moment, his stern expression softening. "You don't have to face it alone. There are other ways to find meaning and purpose in this city."

As the night air settled, Daisuke and Y/N found themselves at a crossroad

In the tense aftermath of the street race, Y/N's eyes met Daisuke's, a defiant spark burning within. The city's nocturnal symphony surrounded them, a silent witness to the charged standoff on the deserted street.

Daisuke, his expression unwavering, called out, "Y/N, we need to talk about this. Running won't solve anything."

But Y/N remained resolute, a rebellious glint in her eyes. "Not another word, Detective," she declared, her voice cutting through the night air.

With that, she swiftly retreated, disappearing into the labyrinth of alleys and shadows. Daisuke, left standing alone on the silent street, felt the weight of the unresolved tension lingering in the air.

The city, with its sprawling expanse and hidden corners, seemed to hold its breath. The chase might have paused for now, but the intricate dance between detective and street racer was far from over.

The city's heartbeat echoed through the night as Daisuke Kambe strolled through a dimly lit alley, his thoughts consumed by the complexities of his latest case. The solitude was abruptly shattered when he stumbled upon Y/N in the midst of a heated argument with a significant other. The air was charged with tension, and Daisuke, instinctively drawn to the unfolding drama, couldn't help but intervene.

"Y/N," he called out, his voice calm but firm.

Y/N's eyes, filled with a mix of frustration and vulnerability, met Daisuke's. "Detective Kambe? What are you doing here?"

Ignoring the question, Daisuke turned his attention to the significant other, leveling a gaze that spoke volumes. "I suggest you leave. This is a private matter."

The significant other, recognizing the weight of Daisuke's presence, reluctantly backed away. As they disappeared into the shadows, Daisuke turned back to Y/N, who stood there with a mixture of emotions playing on her face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, genuine concern in his eyes.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I don't know, Detective. It's just... life, you know?"

Daisuke nodded in understanding. "Sometimes it's overwhelming. But you don't have to face it alone. If you need someone to talk to, I'm here. If you don't mind me asking, why did you run away earlier? What are you trying to escape?"

Y/N, leaning against her sleek racing car, met his gaze with a defiance that hinted at a deeper vulnerability. "Detective Kambe, some things are better left unsaid. I'm not looking for a lecture."

Daisuke, undeterred, closed the distance between them. "Running won't erase the questions, Y/N. We're connected in ways you can't ignore. I want to understand, not just as a detective but as someone who sees more than what's on the surface."

Y/N averted her gaze, a subtle shift in her demeanor betraying the internal struggle. "This city... it suffocates sometimes. The speed, the adrenaline, it's the only way I can feel free."

Daisuke, with a penetrating gaze, pressed further. "And what about the rest of your life? What are you running from?"

A moment of silence hung in the air, the distant sounds of the city accentuating the weight of their unspoken words. Y/N, grappling with the turmoil within, finally spoke, her voice a whisper in the quiet alley. "There are things I'd rather forget, Detective. Racing gives me a momentary escape."

Daisuke's expression softened, a rare touch of empathy breaking through his composed demeanor. "You don't have to face it alone. Whatever you're running from, there are other paths. Let me help."

Surprised by the detective's unexpected compassion, Y/N found herself opening up about the complexities of her personal life. Daisuke, in turn, shared his own struggles, creating a bond that went beyond the roles they played in the city's intricate dance.

As the conversation unfolded, Daisuke noticed the turmoil in Y/N's eyes gradually give way to a glimmer of appreciation. Sensing an opportunity to offer solace, he spoke, "How about we get away from the noise for a bit? There's a cliffside not far from here, a place where you can clear your mind."

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Sure, why not?"

The night air was cool as they drove to the cliffside, the city lights fading into the distance. Once there, Daisuke and Y/N found themselves perched on the edge, the vast expanse of the night sky above them.

"Look at the stars," Daisuke said, his voice gentle. "They have a way of putting things into perspective. No matter how chaotic life gets down here, they remain constant."

Y/N followed his gaze, and for a while, they sat in silence, the city's noise replaced by the soft hum of nature. As the stars painted patterns in the night sky, a sense of peace settled between them.

Daisuke, ever the enigma, broke the silence. "You know, Y/N, life can be like navigating a maze. It's full of twists and turns, and sometimes, it feels like there's no way out. But even in the darkest moments, there's a path forward. It might not be clear at first, but it's there."

Y/N glanced at him, a mixture of gratitude and curiosity in her eyes. "Detective, you're not exactly what I expected. Why are you being so... understanding?"

Daisuke chuckled, a rare moment of vulnerability breaking through his composed demeanor. "Maybe I've come to appreciate the unexpected. People, like puzzles, have layers. You just have to take the time to unravel them."

The conversation flowed effortlessly as they shared stories under the starlit sky, weaving a tapestry of shared experiences and understanding. Daisuke spoke of the pressures of being a detective, the weight of expectations, and the sacrifices he had made along the way. Y/N, in turn, opened up about the struggles of balancing personal desires with the demands of a high-speed life on the streets.

As the night deepened, their connection grew stronger. Daisuke found himself drawn to Y/N's resilience, and Y/N, in turn, appreciated the unexpected companionship that had arisen from the chaos of their lives.

"It's strange, isn't it?" Y/N mused, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "How a chance encounter can change the course of a night."

Daisuke nodded, his gaze lingering on Y/N. "And sometimes, a night can change the course of much more."

As they sat there, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the gentle rustle of the night breeze and the distant murmur of the city below. In that moment, Daisuke offered Y/N a rare glimpse into the depths of his soul, a side of himself few had seen.

"Thank you, Detective," Y/N said, breaking the quietude. "For being there when I needed it."

Daisuke simply nodded, a tacit acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that had formed between them. The city, with all its complexities, seemed distant as they continued to share the solitude of the cliffside, their hearts entwined in the quiet magic of the night. Little did they know that the road ahead held challenges that would test their newfound connection, but for now, they found solace in the shared silence of the stars.

Daisuke rose from his seated position, dusting off the back of his trousers. The tranquility of the cliffside remained, but the real world beckoned. Turning to Y/N, he extended his hand, a silent invitation.

"Let me take you home," Daisuke said, his voice a gentle undertone against the night.

Y/N looked at his outstretched hand, a subtle warmth spreading across her features. With a nod, she accepted his offer, allowing him to help her up from the rocky perch. The contact was fleeting but carried a weight of understanding, a bridge built between them in the quiet of the night.

The city sprawled below, its distant lights flickering like a sea of stars caught in the urban expanse. Daisuke led Y/N back to his sleek black car, and they embarked on a journey back to the heartbeat of the city.

As the car glided through the winding streets, the silence between them spoke volumes. Daisuke, usually guarded, found comfort in the shared quiet, and Y/N, grateful for the unexpected company, marveled at the city's transformation from chaos to a quiet sanctuary.

Upon arriving at Y/N's destination, Daisuke parked the car and turned to face her. "Take care of yourself, Y/N," he said, a genuine concern etched in his eyes.

Y/N smiled, a blend of appreciation and something deeper. "You too, Detective. Thanks for tonight."

Daisuke watched as Y/N disappeared into the night, the city reclaiming her with its myriad of complexities. He lingered for a moment, the echoes of their shared connection lingering, before navigating the darkened streets once again.

The night had brought unexpected turns, forging a bond between Daisuke and Y/N that transcended the roles they played. Little did they know that the city, with all its unpredictability, held more surprises in store for them, and their paths would cross again in ways that would test the strength of the connection they had discovered on that cliffside under the stars.

The morning sun spilled through the windows, casting a warm glow across Daisuke Kambe's impeccably decorated apartment. As he rose from his slumber, he prepared for the day ahead, the events of the previous night and the shared moments with Y/N lingering in the recesses of his mind.

Daisuke dressed with his usual precision, the weight of his responsibilities settling on his shoulders. Little did he know that the day held unexpected turns, and as he stepped out into the bustling city, the air crackled with a sense of anticipation.

The streets were alive with the ebb and flow of urban life. Daisuke navigated through the familiar chaos, the city lights reflecting in his piercing gaze. As he passed by a quaint restaurant, something caught his eye—Y/N, sitting across from another person, engaged in what seemed to be an intimate conversation.

A sharp pang resonated through Daisuke's chest, an unexpected twist in the narrative of the morning. He stood there for a moment, hidden in the shadows, watching the scene unfold. Y/N, her laughter echoing in the air, appeared completely engrossed in the company of her date.

The weight of the realization settled on Daisuke's shoulders—a mix of confusion, disappointment, and an emotion he hadn't anticipated. The city, with its indifferent façade, seemed to mock him as he grappled with the unexpected sight.

For a fleeting moment, Daisuke considered turning away, retreating into the familiarity of his own world. But a sense of determination overcame him. He squared his shoulders and approached the restaurant, his expression betraying none of the tumultuous thoughts swirling within.

Y/N looked up, catching sight of Daisuke's approach. Her eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of guilt flashing across her face. The atmosphere shifted as Daisuke greeted them, his tone even and composed, concealing the internal storm.

"Good morning, Y/N. What a coincidence to find you here," he said, a thin smile playing on his lips.

Y/N stammered, clearly caught off guard. "Detective Kambe, I... um, we didn't expect to run into you here."

Daisuke's gaze shifted to her companion, a polite acknowledgment in his eyes. "I hope you both enjoy your meal. I won't keep you any longer."

Daisuke's steps faltered as the realization hit him like a sudden gust of wind. The man Y/N was sharing the table with was none other than Haru Kato, his best friend and partner. A strange mix of relief and confusion washed over him, as the unexpected sight prompted a torrent of thoughts and emotions.

Approaching the table again, Daisuke couldn't help but feel a peculiar sense of betrayal dissipate. He greeted him with a nod, a subtle acknowledgment that he was aware of their connection. "Kato. What a surprise to find you two here."

Haru Kato, with an apologetic smile, stood up. "Daisuke, hey. We didn't expect to run into you either."

Y/N, sensing the tension, offered a hesitant smile. "Detective Kambe, this wasn't planned, I promise."

Daisuke waved off their concerns, his demeanor composed but his eyes revealing a complexity of emotions. "No need to explain. Enjoy your meal. I won't interrupt any further."

As he walked away, a storm of conflicting thoughts brewed within him. The city, once a familiar backdrop, now seemed to shift and twist with an unfamiliar energy. Daisuke couldn't escape the feeling of being on the periphery of something he hadn't anticipated.

Later, as he immersed himself in his detective duties, Daisuke grappled with the realization that Y/N and Haru, two significant figures in his life, were forging a connection outside of their usual orbits. The intricate dance of emotions left him questioning the boundaries of friendship and the unspoken rules that governed those closest to him.

As the day unfolded, Daisuke navigated the streets with a stoic façade, concealing the turbulence within. The city, with its towering buildings and bustling crowds, seemed to hold the echoes of shared moments and a future that remained uncertain. The story continued to unfold, with Daisuke Kambe standing at the intersection of past and present, his path shrouded in the complexities of friendship, loyalty, and the unexpected twists of fate.

As the day grew darker, a shadow seemed to fall over Daisuke Kambe's normally composed demeanor. The hope he had nurtured, the budding connection he thought he had found with Y/N, now seemed to wither in the face of an unexpected revelation. The streets, once a familiar territory, felt foreign as he grappled with a growing sense of betrayal.

In the solitude of his apartment, the city lights casting a melancholic glow, Daisuke found himself wrestling with questions that seemed to echo in the emptiness. Had his best friend, Haru Kato, unintentionally claimed a piece of the connection he had hoped to cultivate with Y/N? The complexities of friendship and the unspoken rules that governed those closest to him became an unyielding maze, and Daisuke couldn't help but feel lost within its intricate corridors.

The night wore on, and as Daisuke stared out of his apartment window, the city below continued its relentless march. Each passing moment carried with it the weight of unanswered questions and the ache of a hope that had been dimmed. The stoic detective, known for his unshakable resolve, found himself facing an unfamiliar vulnerability.

As he contemplated the unfolding narrative of his life, Daisuke questioned the nature of the connection he had sought. The city lights, once vibrant, now seemed to cast long shadows on the walls, mirroring the uncertainty that loomed over his thoughts. The lines between duty, friendship, and the yearning for understanding blurred in a landscape that felt increasingly desolate.

In the silence of the night, Daisuke Kambe grappled with the complexity of emotions that had taken residence within him. The city, with its myriad of stories and secrets, seemed to hold a mirror to his own uncertainties. The narrative, once clear, now felt entangled in a web of intricacies, leaving the detective to navigate the tangled threads of friendship, trust, and the delicate balance between vulnerability and strength.

Daisuke Kambe, seeking respite from the tumultuous thoughts swirling within, decided to head to a quiet bar nestled in a corner of the city. The neon sign flickered with a subtle invitation as he entered, the low hum of conversations creating a backdrop for the labyrinth of his own contemplations.

As he approached the bar, ordering a drink with the precision that marked his every action, he hadn't expected the familiar presence that would soon enter the scene. The door swung open, and there she was—Y/N, the source of the emotional storm that had unsettled his day.

Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, time seemed to suspend. The air between them crackled with an unspoken tension, the weight of the unresolved emotions hanging in the atmosphere. Daisuke, usually composed, found himself at a loss for words in the face of unexpected proximity.

Y/N approached, a mixture of surprise and hesitation etched across her features. "Detective Kambe, what are the odds of running into you again?"

Daisuke managed a thin smile, masking the complexity of his emotions. "Seems like the city has a way of bringing people together. Care to join me for a drink?"

Y/N, sensing the unspoken currents, nodded and took a seat beside him at the bar. The air became charged with an energy that transcended the clinking of glasses and the distant murmur of patrons. The city outside, indifferent to their shared complexities, continued its rhythmic pulse.

In the dimly lit bar, Daisuke Kambe and Y/N found themselves seated at a corner, a small oasis of solitude amidst the rhythmic chaos of the city. The clinking of glasses and the low hum of conversations provided a distant melody to their unfolding dialogue.

Daisuke, his usual stoicism momentarily softened, started the conversation. "Y/N, I didn't expect to run into you again so soon. Fate seems to have its own plans."

Daisuke took a sip of his drink, the amber liquid reflecting the subtle glow of the bar lights. "Indeed. Life has a way of surprising us." He paused, his gaze fixed on the swirling liquid in his glass. "I couldn't help but wonder about earlier. Seeing you with Kato."

Y/N's expression shifted, a mix of understanding and caution. "Detective Kambe, it's not what you think. Haru and I are just friends. I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea."

Daisuke's smile, a rare expression that hinted at the genuine warmth beneath his composed exterior, illuminated the dimly lit bar. The invitation hung in the air, a simple yet loaded question that carried the weight of unspoken possibilities.

Daisuke, with a vulnerability seldom seen, broke the silence. "Y/N, there's something about you that's... different. It's as if you see through the layers, beyond the persona I project to the world. I've spent a lifetime building walls, but you manage to breach them effortlessly."

Y/N, her eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and understanding, met his gaze. "Detective Kambe, you're not as impenetrable as you think. There's a complexity to you that I find intriguing, and beneath that composed exterior, there's a person I want to understand."

Daisuke's usual composure wavered, a subtle acknowledgment of a truth he rarely allowed himself to confront. "And you, Y/N? What do you see when you look at me?"

Y/N's gaze lingered on his, her voice a whisper amidst the ambient sounds of the bar. "I see someone who craves connection, just like the rest of us. Beneath the detective, there's a man who feels deeply, who grapples with the intricacies of life. And I find that incredibly appealing."

The admission hung in the air, a bridge between the roles they played and the uncharted territory of shared emotions. Daisuke, typically reserved, found himself entangled in the vulnerability of the moment. "Y/N, this connection... it's unlike anything I've experienced. But I can't help but wonder, with Haru in the picture, where do we stand?"

Y/N took a moment to gather her thoughts, her eyes searching Daisuke's for understanding. "Haru is a dear friend, and nothing more. You, Detective, have a way of getting under my skin in ways I never expected. There's a magnetic pull between us, and it's hard to ignore."

Daisuke's gaze held a mixture of relief and realization. "I thought I might have lost something when I saw you with him earlier. But hearing you say that... it changes things."

"Y/N," he began, his tone gentle, "how about we leave this place? Would you like to come to my place and watch a movie?"

Y/N met his gaze, a subtle spark of curiosity in her eyes. The tension that had lingered throughout the night seemed to shift, replaced by the prospect of a shared moment in a more intimate setting.

A small smile played on Y/N's lips. "Sure, Detective Kambe. A movie sounds like a good idea."

As they left the bar, the city outside embraced them with its ever-present energy. Daisuke and Y/N navigated the familiar streets, the air charged with the unspoken understanding that this was more than just a casual invitation.

Arriving at Daisuke's apartment, the city's bustling rhythm muffled by the closed door, they found themselves in a cocoon of privacy. The ambiance was different from the crowded bar; the space held an almost anticipatory stillness.

Daisuke, ever the gracious host, gestured towards the comfortable seating arrangement. "Make yourself at home, Y/N. I'll prepare something for us."

As they settled in, the movie playing on the screen became a backdrop to the evolving narrative between them. The air was thick with a blend of anticipation and unspoken feelings that seemed to transcend the confines of the room.

Daisuke, returning with a tray of refreshments, found himself drawn to Y/N's presence. They sat in companionable silence, the movie casting a flickering glow on their faces. As the scenes unfolded on the screen, the shared space between them became charged with an energy that mirrored the intricate dance of their emotions.

As the movie's credits rolled and the night deepened, Daisuke and Y/N found themselves in a cocoon of warmth and comfort. The initial distance that had defined their interactions melted away, replaced by a shared understanding that transcended words.

Unspoken emotions lingered in the air as they scooted closer together on the couch. The ambient glow of the TV illuminated their faces, casting shadows that danced in harmony with the quiet intimacy enveloping them.

Without exchanging a word, they gravitated towards each other, the distance narrowing until they were nestled in each other's arms. Daisuke, known for his stoicism, held Y/N with a tenderness that betrayed the complexities of his emotions. Y/N, in turn, found solace in the strong yet gentle embrace, a sanctuary in the arms of the enigmatic detective.

As the city outside continued its nocturnal symphony, the room became a haven for shared vulnerability. The movie's soundtrack faded into the background, replaced by the rhythmic cadence of their shared breaths.

In the quiet of the night, with the city's pulse as their backdrop, Daisuke and Y/N succumbed to the inevitable pull of sleep. Their intertwined fingers, the rise and fall of their chests in synchrony, painted a picture of a connection that had evolved beyond the constraints of the roles they played in the city's intricate dance.

Daisuke Kambe stirred from his slumber, the ambient light of the early morning casting a gentle glow in his meticulously decorated apartment. As he gradually became aware of his surroundings, a warmth beside him caught his attention.

His eyes opened to find Y/N, still nestled in his arms from the night before. The remnants of their movie night lingered in the room, the TV's soft glow now replaced by the soft hues of dawn filtering through the curtains.

Y/N, seemingly awake, turned to face him with a tender smile. Without a word, she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on Daisuke's forehead. The gesture carried a quiet intimacy, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that had deepened between them.

Daisuke, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected tenderness, couldn't help but return a faint smile. "Good morning, my star," he whispered, the words carrying a sentiment that seemed to echo in the tranquil space.

The city outside, slowly awakening to the day, seemed to echo the quiet moment shared between the detective and the street racer.

[honeysuckleharringtons]

Part Seven: "Pour Over" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: (Then) Between postpartum blues and her baby's needy coos, Reader's having a hard time adjusting to her new life. But she quickly learns that sometimes you get by with a little help from your friends. — (Now) After dealing with her fussy child all night, the last thing Reader wants is a complicated day at work. Luckily for her, a certain nurse knows just how to make her day a little easier.

Pairing: Nurse!Steve Harrington x Fem!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 1,640

Content Warning: postpartum talk, anxiety talk, mentions of vomit (nothing in detail though), very mild swearing, mild hospital talk, mentions of food, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: yall i am so so so sorry that this took me so long to finish, more on this later but rn all i have to say is the world's biggest apology 😭

Originally Written: 01/06/2024 through 01/23/2024 (i'm so sorry)

honeysuckleharringtons main masterlist can be found here!

'brew and me' series masterlist can be found here!

[ Then, February of 1988 ]

At this point, you weren't sure how you hadn't died from sleep deprivation.

It had been a whole two weeks since the baby was born, and you were pretty sure you hadn't slept a wink since. One sleepless night had turned into two, and well… now you couldn't remember the last time you had slept.

The clock on the wall told you it was nearing three in the morning, the blackness outside the windows further proving that fact. The baby was once again crying, and no amount of midnight feedings or diaper changes or rocking her in the rocking chair had done the trick. You were warned about colic, but nothing could've prepared you for what it would be like in real time.

Another new nightly ritual was a tired Joyce stumbling into your bedroom, eyes heavy and feet shuffling. You knew exactly what she had in mind, but your Byers genes were far too stubborn to accept her offer.

“Mom, we're fine,” you insisted from your spot in the rocking chair. But even you knew that to the naked eye, you surely didn't look fine. Unwashed hair, blanket tossed messily over your lap, purple spots nearly black underneath your eyes.

Joyce just sighed from her spot in the doorway. “Honey, you are clearly not fine. Don't take this the wrong way but you're a mess.” The comment almost hurt you, though you supposed you appreciated your mother's honesty.

“I'll be okay,” you insisted. “It's not my first sleepless night.”

She moved to sit on the edge of your bed, across from the newly placed rocking chair and crib. “That's the problem, honey. You need sleep. You can't properly be there for her if you-”

“I can't leave her.”

“Don't get enough sleep and-”

“Mom, I can't-”

“You need to eat something too, honey. I mean, when was the last time you-”

“Mom!” you raised your voice this time, effectively cutting her off. “I cannot leave this baby.”

Joyce let out a long sigh, running a hand through her already messy hair. “If you don't take proper care of yourself, exhaustion is gonna hit you like a freight train. Then what?”

You supposed she might be right. But still, her comments couldn't make you see past your postpartum anxiety, worst case scenarios running rampant through your mind.

“What if something happens to her while I'm asleep?” you asked, voice weak. “Or what if she thinks I left her, just like…” you couldn't finish the statement before tears began to prick your eyes.

“Y/N, you know that me and Will would never let anything happen to this baby.” You could tell by her tone that she was being genuine, though both of you knew her words were useless when it came to your anxiety. “We love both of you. We would never let anything happen to her.”

Tears pricked your eyes as your panicked thoughts ran rampant. “What about Dad?”

She nearly fell off the bed after hearing your question. “Dad? What does Lonnie have to do with-”

“I keep having this weird feeling in my gut that Dad is gonna try something with her,” you explained, tears fully soaking your cheeks now. “Like he's going to try and take her from me.”

“I would never let that happen.” Joyce's words weren't a suggestion. She said them with such finality that you were tempted to believe her. “Lonnie walked out of here seven years ago. He hasn't gotten in here yet and I will make damn sure he doesn't get in now.”

Your heart was racing a million beats a minute. You weren't really sure why—other than postpartum anxiety—that Lonnie had been on your mind. But just the thought of him sent shivers up your spine and tears down your face.

Clinging harder to the bundle in your arms, careful not to hurt her but still holding her closer, you rocked gently in the chair in hopes of calming both yourself and the baby. Her cries had yet to subside, if anything they'd just grown louder.

“Mom, I'm so scared,” you finally broke. Even you could hear the weakness, the brokenness, the defeat in your voice. “What if I'm doing this all wrong?”

Joyce stood again, with that same finality as her words from earlier. “I'm not here to tell you how to raise your baby. You're the mother now and you know what's best for you and her,” she started, the words stern but gentle. “But I am here to give you advice as a mother myself. Babies can sense things. Maybe she's upset because you're upset.”

And with that, Joyce was stepping toward the door, reaching for knob, and then-

“Okay.” The word came out as defeated as you felt. “I'll let you have her just long enough for me to shower and eat something.”

She turned to face you with a small smile, not one of smugness or one of someone proving a point, but one that showed you that she was simply just glad to help you out. She left a soft kiss on your forehead as she took the baby from your arms, quickly taking your place in the rocking chair as you headed over to your dresser.

“Mom?”

Her smile went a little sideways as she looked up from the baby to you. “Yeah?”

“I love you. Don't ever forget that, okay?”

With a small nod, Joyce replied, “I won't. Don't you forget that I ditto.” A phrase that had been around since you were little. You weren't sure who started it, but in this moment you were thankful for it, five letters meaning the absolute world to you.

You walked over, leaving a peck to the prickly hairs you'd been seeing so much of these days, warmth filling the entire expanse of your body. “I love you, bub.”

“I'm sure she dittos you too, honey.”

[ Now, January of 1992 ]

A loud yawn sounded from the other side of the counter, breaking you from your own mess of sleepy thoughts. “Me too,” you chuckled as you looked up, a yawn slipping between your own lips. Dark hair and round glasses met you, purple spots thick underneath his eyes. “You look about as tired as I feel.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “I wouldn't have known it if you hadn't mentioned it,” he said. A crease formed between your brows as you wondered what he meant. “You look as nice as you always do.”

He set a new record for how quickly he'd ever made butterflies go off inside you. “Careful, Doc, or I'll think you're flirting with me,” you said through the crimson blush that had started to appear on your cheeks.

“Sorry,” he said sarcastically, “Must be the sleep deprivation from the double I just pulled.”

You cringed at his words, knowing all too well what that felt like. “I know the feeling. I might as well have pulled my own double after staying up all night with my dau-”

The word got caught in your throat as you realized what you were about to say. “Dog,” you covered quickly, hoping your lie flew over Steve's head.

On the outside, you were hoping to appear calm and cool. On the inside, you were face palming. You'd been sleep deprived many times before, considering you once had a baby on your hands who had colic from the day she was born. Not to mention being a mother made you miss sleep in many ways of its own. But you couldn't recall a time where you'd been so sleep deprived that you almost spilled your biggest secret to a practical stranger, much less a practical stranger who you were actively avoiding telling the secret to.

“I didn't know you had a dog,” Steve said with furrowed brows, his voice bringing you back to reality.

Even though you hated to lie to him, you were thankful that your job had given you the ability to think fast. “Yeah, she must've eaten something she wasn't supposed to. She was up all night throwing up.” The real story was that Mandy had snuck into the kitchen to eat the rest of her leftover Christmas candy after you told her not to, but Steve didn't have to know that.

“Plain rice helps.”

His reaction caught you off guard. “Huh?”

“Plain rice can help a dog's upset stomach,” he explained. “If it keeps happening though, you should definitely take her to a vet.”

Steve's suggestion was oddly sweet, and honestly tugged at your heartstrings a little bit. “Thank you for the tip. Out of curiosity though, how do you know about caring for a sick dog?”

His broad shoulders shrugged, and you tried not to drool at the sight of them. “I almost went to vet school. Boy, would that have made my dad mad. Not that med school has made him any less angry.” As if realizing he was rambling, an awkward chuckle slipped between his lips and he turned his attention to the menu. “You didn't ask. Anyway, what do you recommend?”

“Nice try,” you answered, rolling your eyes. “But for you, I recommend going home and getting some sleep.”

Steve chuckled, and the sound went straight to your belly. “Hey, you don't have to tell me twice. I just pulled a double and I have to be back on campus for classes in about five hours.”

Part of you wanted to tell him to just take the night off and get some rest. Another part of you wanted to drive him home yourself and tuck him in. “I do not envy you,” you giggled. “To answer your original question though, how does a strawberry smoothie sound?”

He met you with a closed-lip smile, one that had started to feel so comforting and oh so familiar these days. “That sounds perfect.”

So this is about a month late...

I want to apologize for being gone with no announcement or explanation. Lots of things have happened in the past couple weeks that have taken a severe toll on my mental health and I just haven't really had the time to write, much less the energy.

I am feeling a little better and I have talked to my boss about my hours so I'm hoping that'll help somewhat. I really miss giving you guys content and I miss interacting with you guys.

Anyway, I hope you're all doing well! ❤️

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @corrodedseraphine @manuosorioh @esoltis280 @hazydespair @frostandflamesfanfic

[blueishspace]

Adventures of the Darkest Witch Shelby. (3)

For @emilynyaesmp

It was the start of a new day, despite the various inconveniences that had appeared in the last few weeks Shelby she was sure a turn around was close. Soon she would obtain the power she needed. To do that however... There was still much work to be done. However it would be hard to obtain all that she needed and she couldn't risk-

Fwhip: "Hello? Uh resident witch?"

It seemed her scheming was going to have to wait a bit more.

Fwhip: "Anyone?"

Shelby: "Welcome to the Nevermore"

Fwhip: "Oh you're here! I was starting to worry".

She could only guess why the short man... or tall goblin... would be worried about her NOT being here. Surely they had to have realized the threat she was?

Fwhip: "Do you maybe have some weakness potions to trade?"

Another one? Well, she supposed she could agree on a trade but first she needed to know.

Shelby: "Anything to trade them for?"

Fwhip: "Oh yes!"

He proceeded to take out two shulker boxes full of materials, now this was going to be a useful trade... Or perhaps she could steal all of it from him should he become indisposed, yes that would do.

Shelby: "Is there anything else that you might need my expertise with?"

Fwhip: "... Actually, there might be something"

Hook line and sinker, now she just needed to feed him a transformation potion and turn him into a insect...then she could steal the shulkers of material.

Fwhip: "I have a friend, he recently moved to the sky so I was wondering if you had anything that could help me visit him?"

Shelby: "I have the perfect potion for this, follow me"

It worked, he just drank the transformation potion! Now he was going to be fed to her toads and she was going to have all that material. She smirked as the insect wings came in and then ... And then the transformation stopped. She couldn't understand what had gone wrong, but instead of turnings into a small insignificant bug he had instead grown wing-like appendages.

Fwhip: "I- You gave me wings!? This is amazing! Now I'll be able to travel where I want! Thank you"

She was too stunned and confused to speak...

Fwhip: "You know what? Keep the shulkers both of them. This is amazing! Didn't even tought it was possible!"

She just stood wide eyed as he hugged her and flew away on his new wings. She just stared at him, open mouthed.

Shelby didn't know what happened, she had entered the nether and she supposed her potions must have finished brewing around at the same moment because reality itself folded on itself as soon as her feet passed the frame ... It only took a few seconds for the world to be fixed by It's gods, yet in the few seconds of pure light she had seen one thing...or someone more specifically. A name that as soon as she awoke she had to scream.

Shelby: "Aeor!"

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