#stars combusting and imploding and exploding

[gordonfreemansfatass]

imagine if rtumblr has a discord server. would be insanity

[sungminispup2017]

Crimson Fates Series Book Two: The Hollow Star

masterlist

description: She’s loud, reckless, and allergic to peace. Ni-ki is powerful, arrogant, and absolutely her worst enemy. At Decelis Academy, their rivalry explodes into an all out prank war, glitter bombs, blood traps, public humiliation, and zero restraint. But somewhere between threats and stolen touches, something ancient awakens. Hate turns heated. Teasing turns dangerous. And when enemies become mates, the fallout is catastrophic. Because war is easy. Surviving love is not.

Nishimura Riki x Oc Female Character

content: Supernatural world but its modern/the norm. They will make jokes about being centuries old, but they are all 19-23, born as vampires, and stop ageing at 24. They are more like humans than vampires..whoops Ni-ki actually goes to school?

warnings: Allusions to smut. Lots of threats. Nothing crazy.

wc: 16.9k

an: This is pure chaos, this is a comedy/drama/romance/crack series..so prepare. The series is completed for all seven stories. So stay tuned and enjoy.

part 2

The dorm room door slammed open with all the fury of a hurricane.

“I swear to every moon and star in the fanged realm, I’m going to kill him,” Da-eun growled as she stomped into the room, her leather boots echoing off the polished floors.

Jiyoon, perched cross legged on her bed with her hair tied in a bun and a blood bag dangling lazily from her hand, didn’t even flinch. She just sipped with a raised brow, “Ni-ki again?”

“Ni-ki again?” Da-eun repeated in a mocking voice as she threw her backpack down like it had personally offended her. “That man is the reason my blood pressure is one step from spontaneous combustion. I was minding my business, walking to combat theory, and you know what he did?”

Jiyoon blinked. “Tackled you?”

“I wish. That would’ve at least made sense,” the girl snapped. “He dropped thirty pounds of glitter over the stairs as I was walking up. I looked like a disco ball got into a knife fight with a unicorn.”

A soft snort escaped Jiyoon. “So… sparkly?”

“I glittered for hours. I blinded a professor. I had Fae students asking what kind of glamor spell I used. I don’t even know what part of my body the glitter isn’t on. I’m gonna be peeing sparkles until finals.”

Jiyoon giggled behind her palm, tossing the empty blood pouch into the trash. “Okay, but it’s prank season. He’s just getting into the spirit.”

“He’s declaring war. And I, Da-eun of the House of Petty, accept.”

Jiyoon’s eyes lit up. “You’re starting a feud?”

“I’m escalating a feud,” she corrected, digging through her closet like she was preparing for battle. “That gremlin’s been testing me since day one. Always looking smug. Always throwing smug little comments about my hair, my fighting form, my fangs. Oh, and let’s not forget the time he snuck into my room and unplugged my curling iron right before class. He’s a menace, and he’s obsessed with me.”

Jiyoon tilted her head thoughtfully. “You sure you don’t like him?”

Da-eun froze. Slowly turned. Blinked. “Don’t. Start.”

The door creaked open then, and in came Seori and Kija, arms full of snacks and gossip. Kija kicked the door closed with a well aimed boot, her siren glow still humming from the walk through campus.

“What’s got our loudmouth vampire ready to implode?” Seori asked with a casual toss of her hair, flopping onto Jiyoon’s bed.

Da-eun threw herself onto her own mattress with a dramatic groan. “Ni-ki.”

“Again?” Kija and Seori said in unison, then high-fived.

“It’s always Ni-ki,” Jiyoon chimed in. “They’re going to kill each other or mate by midterm.”

Seori gasped with a grin. “Enemies to soulmates? I’d read it.”

“Don’t encourage it!” Da-eun yelled into her pillow. “He’s a roach. A tall, stupid, fast-ass roach.”

“...with nice hands,” Kija added idly.

“I will push you off this bed.”

But Jiyoon was grinning, and the moment she looked at her three best friends, all lounging in their shared chaos, buzzing with the high of a new semester and upcoming prank wars. Y/n felt it.

The shift. This was the start of something. Something wild. Something electric. Something she might not come back from. Because while the school was gearing up for chaos, war, and mischief.

She and Ni-ki? They were about to burn the whole place down.

“I swear,” Kija muttered a day later as she dropped her tray of food on the table and sank into the seat across from Da-eun, “if Sunghoon glares at me one more time, I’m going to enchant his water bottle to scream every time he takes a sip.”

Da-eun didn’t even look up from the spellwork textbook she was scribbling in. “You say that every day, and yet…”

Kija shot a pointed glance toward the other end of the cafeteria, where, without fail, the Seven were lounging like bored gods carved out of fire and steel. Sunghoon sat with one arm tossed lazily across the back of his chair, his sharp eyes flicking toward their table every so often. Not that Kija ever met his stare for long. They just… glared at each other. A cold war of narrowed eyes and clenched jaws.

“Tell me again,” Kija grumbled, “why the Seven are always hovering around now?”

Da-eun sighed, finally capping her pen and sitting back. “Because Jiyoon mated the old man.”

Jiyoon, sitting beside her with her black hair pinned in a lazy bun and her collar still showing the faint scar of her mating mark, looked unbothered. “Heeseung is not old.”

“He’s centuries old,” Da-eun pointed out jokingly. “If that’s not old, I don’t know what is.”

Jiyoon smirked. “He’s seasoned.”

“He’s broody.”

“He’s hot.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Kija groaned and dropped her head to the table. “So because you mated the first of the Seven, now they think they have some kind of claim on the rest of us?”

“Pretty much,” Da-eun muttered. “I wish they’d go back to hating everyone. It was peaceful.”

“They do,” Jiyoon replied, reaching for her drink. “Just not me, and by extension you.”

That was the problem.

Ever since Jiyoon and Heeseung had mated, the entire dynamic had shifted. The Seven had always been cold, powerful, and ruthlessly disinterested in anyone outside their circle. But now?

Now Sunghoon stared at Kija like she might explode. Jay had barely been able to look Seori in the eye after the debate, and Seori had smirked the whole time, like she knew exactly what she was doing. Ni-ki was still pretending Da-eun didn’t exist unless it was to annoy her. And she herself? She was pretending he wasn’t fun to fight with. Which he was. Infuriatingly so.

“Sunghoon and I haven’t even spoken,” Kija added, lifting her head again. “We just glare. Constantly. Like it’s a sport.”

Sounds like they were trying to assert thier dominance on each other. Da-eun almost cackled at the thought. 

“You should wave at him next time,” Jiyoon suggested innocently.

“I’d rather chew glass.”

Da-eun laughed, kicking Kija lightly under the table.

“And you,” Kija pointed at her. “Ni-ki’s been extra obnoxious lately. You’re sure he’s not trying to court you through psychological warfare?”

“He’s trying to give me an aneurysm,” she deadpanned. “And if it’s working, it’s not romantic.”

Jiyoon was watching her closely, eyes twinkling. “You blush when you talk about him.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“Do not.”

“Then say his name without getting red.”

Da-eun glared, but the tips of her ears betrayed her.

Kija snorted. “Admit it. You like the gremlin.”

“I’d rather be tied to a pole and left for the shifters.”

“Why is that your go-to threat for everything?” Jiyoon asked with a laugh.

She didn’t answer. Her gaze had drifted over to the Seven’s table again. Sunghoon still glared. Jay still sat stiff and silent, like his own mind betrayed him. Ni-ki? He was slouched in his seat, long legs stretched out under the table, smirking at something Jungwon said.

But when she met his eyes...because she knew he was looking, his expression shifted, just slightly.

Challenge accepted, his face seemed to say.

She raised her brow.

Bring it on, hers answered.

They looked away at the same time.

The hallway echoed with the low hum of enchantments and murmurs of spells gone wrong, the air thick with incense, chalk dust, and the faint metallic smell of magic overuse. Creatures of every kind filtered between classes; glamoured witches, brooding warlocks, smooth talking shifters, and too pretty fae with eyes like sin.

The moment Ni-ki turned the corner, everyone stepped aside.

He didn’t walk. He prowled. Six feet of dark menace wrapped in a school approved uniform that he somehow made look like a crime scene. His black boots struck the marble with too much finality. His eyes flicked lazily over anyone too slow to move, daring them to meet his gaze.

No one did.

Until one unfortunate witch, freshman, probably, rounded the bend and crashed right into him, her potion vials clattering to the floor.

"Sorry!" she squeaked, fumbling for the glass before it rolled under the nearest locker.

Ni-ki didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

He simply tilted his head, and the girl froze.

His aura darkened.

"You know," he said, voice low and venom-sweet, "there’s a funny little rule in this school…You don’t touch me."

The witch’s eyes welled with tears. “I-I didn’t mean—”

"Did I ask if you meant to?" he cut in coldly, stepping forward. She scrambled back. "Touch me again, and I’ll hex every drink you ever sip. You'll piss fire for weeks."

She bolted, crying before her shoes even squeaked around the corner.

“Drama queen,” Ni-ki muttered.

Behind him, the rest of the Seven filtered in like shadows summoned to a flame. Jay let out a low whistle. Jake shook his head. Jungwon sighed.

“She barely brushed your shoulder,” Sunghoon said, eyes flicking with amusement.

“She contaminated my aura,” Ni-ki snapped.

“She dropped potion vials,” Sunoo added dryly. “You could’ve just… I don’t know, not threatened internal combustion?”

“You’re all missing the point,” Ni-ki grumbled, turning to face his brothers with a glare that was more frustration than rage. “Da-eun.”

Six heads groaned in unison.

“Here we go,” Jake muttered.

"Its always Da-eun with you," Sunoo laughed amused. 

“Do not say her name like that,” Ni-ki snapped.

“You say it like a curse,” Jay pointed out.

Ni-ki pointed a finger at him. “Because she is one. A loud, dramatic, insufferable little creature who thinks she’s clever just because she out-pranked me last year.”

“She is clever,” Jungwon said, arms crossed. “Clever enough to make you blow up your own locker trying to trap her.”

“That was sabotage!” Ni-ki argued.

“It was your own glitter bomb,” Sunghoon said, unimpressed. “You spelled it backward.”

“I was tired.”

The group collectively sighed.

Ni-ki ran a hand through his hair and paced in a slow circle. “Look. This year’s Prank Wars? It’s personal. That little vampire menace is gunning for me again. She’s got Jiyoon. She’s got the damn siren and the illusionist fae, and now they’re a unit. I’m going to get wrecked if I don’t hit first.”

“Good,” Jay deadpanned. “Maybe you’ll stop whining.”

“You’re all going to help me,” Ni-ki said, turning on his heel to face them.

“Nope,” said Sunoo.

“Absolutely not,” Jungwon added.

“I have Council work,” Sunghoon yawned.

Ni-ki grinned slowly. “Do you guys…remember that little thing I caught on footage last year?”

They all froze.

He raised an eyebrow, smug. “You know. That time Sunghoon glamoured the staff lounge into a private skating rink and knocked the Dean’s favorite sphinx through a wall? Or when Jay accidentally enchanted the boys’ bathroom mirror to show your true thoughts and gave half the shifters anxiety? Or better yet…” he let his gaze rest on Jake, “that time you and Sunoo broke curfew for that midnight blood kegger in the forest?”

“I told you not to say that out loud,” Jake hissed.

Ni-ki shrugged. “I have receipts. And I’m not above sending them straight to your precious vampire parents. Imagine the shame. The horror. The family meetings.”

“You wouldn’t,” Jungwon said.

“Oh, I would.”

Sunghoon looked heavenward. “He’s bluffing.”

“I’m not bluffing,” Ni-ki said, pulling his phone from his pocket and waving it like a wand. “I have backups in three different clouds and one fae-encrypted external drive. Try me.”

“Fine,” Sunoo groaned. “We’re in.”

“Yes!” Ni-ki pumped a fist in the air. “Now help me plan that little girls downfall.”

“She’s going to kill you,” Jake muttered.

“I want her to try.”

The others shook their heads, already regretting their lives. They may have been powerful, feared, untouchable… but when it came to Ni-ki and Da-eun?

It was war.

And apparently? They were now unwilling soldiers.

It was obscene.

It was unnatural.

It was…a picnic.

Ni-ki crouched behind a stone planter like a rabid gargoyle, glaring across the courtyard at four supernatural girls having the time of their lives. Giggling. Snacking. Lounging.

There was even a pastel blanket. With tiny triangle sandwiches. And sparkly strawberry lemonade in a floating pitcher, enchanted to refill itself.

“Who the hell picnics in the middle of a supernatural war zone?” Ni-ki hissed.

“It’s a quad,” Jungwon muttered from beside him. “And there’s no war.”

“There is now,” Ni-ki growled. “They’ve declared it. Look at them.”

Heeseung raised a brow but said nothing, eyes locked on his mate, his little troublemaker, lounging with dangerous grace among her misfit crew. Jiyoon’s sharp eyes glinted beneath the sun, a smirk tugging at her mouth as she poked a grape into Da-eun's lips.

Da-eun. The bane of Ni-ki’s existence. His chaos twin. His main enemy in the upcoming prank wars.

Sunghoon leaned in behind them. “Is that…Kija?”

Jay nodded slowly, squinting. “And Seori.”

The seven grew quiet for a second.

None of them had ever paid attention to those two before, only surface level attention. But now that they were looking something twisted in the air. Like fate was curling a finger.

Kija was flicking her siren dyed blue hair over her shoulder as she rolled her eyes at Da-eun, her long melenated legs stretched out lazily while she sucked on a lollipop like she owned the courtyard. Sunghoon’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t know why.

Jay’s eyes drifted to Seori, graceful, sunlit, wearing glittery boots and a mood like a blade sheathed in velvet. Their eyes met for half a second before she turned away with a scrunch of her nose.

Jay frowned. “She looked like she wanted to kick me.”

Sunoo smirked. “Probably.”

Back under the tree, the girls were plotting. Loudly. On purpose.

“Listen,” Da-eun said, smacking her thigh with a croissant. “Ni-ki’s getting wrecked. He dumped black dye in my shampoo. That is a declaration of war.”

“It was funny,” Jiyoon admitted.

“It stained my ears, Jiyoon.”

Seori snorted. “You still looked hot, though.”

“True,” Kija nodded. “But he’s still dead.”

“Please help me prank him,” Da-eun groaned, flopping backward.

“No,” Jiyoon said. “Heeseung will find out and ground me again.”

“No,” Seori added. “The others are already suspicious. And Park keeps looking at me like I know what guilt smells like.”

“I think Sunoo hexed my hallway yesterday,” Kija muttered.

“You’re all cowards,” Da-eun said dramatically, draping her arm over her eyes like she was dying.

“No,” Kija said. “We’re smart. You want to start beef with the most powerful vampires in the school?”

“I already have beef. It’s medium rare and annoying.”

The seven were completely silent, listening like they were tuning into a soap opera.

Jay leaned toward Sunghoon. “I think we’re being insulted.”

“We are,” Sunghoon muttered, jaw tight, eyes flicking to Kija again.

Then, Da-eun sat up, a devilish grin stretching across her face. “Fine. If you won’t help me willingly…”

“Oh no,” Jiyoon said.

Da-eun held up her phone. “Remember this?” A click. A screen flash.

Seori screamed. “You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t you dare,” Kija snapped.

“Oh my god is that the karaoke video?” Jiyoon gasped.

Her grin turned sharklike. “That’s the one.”

“I fell off the stage!” Seori howled.

“You bit the microphone,” Kija groaned.

“That’s emotional manipulation,” Jiyoon muttered quietly with her head bowed.

“I prefer the term creative negotiation.” Da-eun dusted her hands off. “Now, ladies, let’s ruin Ni-ki’s life.”

Behind the bushes, Ni-ki clenched his fists. “They’re plotting my murder.”

“No,” Jungwon said. “They’re plotting your humiliation.”

“Same thing.”

Sunoo, crouched beside them, was barely holding in laughter. “Look at you, getting outplayed by your mate.”

“She is not my—”

“She is,” Heeseung, Jay, and Jungwon said in unison.

Jay raised a brow at Seori again as she conjured a little illusion of Ni-ki with a donkey tail. “She’s clever,” he muttered.

Sunghoon glanced at Kija, who was now laughing so hard she fell sideways into Jiyoon’s lap. His chest twisted for a moment before he growled low and looked away.

“We should go,” Heeseung finally said, standing.

“They know we’re here,” Sunoo said.

Jiyoon raised her glass toward the hedges.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon sighed. “They definitely know.”

As the seven sulked away like scolded dogs, Da-euns voice rang across the courtyard, “HEY, NI-KI!”

He froze.

“You’re going down, ugly-boy.”

Ni-ki spun with a growl. “Oh, it’s ON, baby bat!”

War had rules.

She just chose to break them all.

“Operation Vampocalypse is a go,” she whispered, crouched with Kija, Jiyoon, and Seori behind the hedge bordering the Seven’s dormitory.

“I still think we should’ve gone with ‘Fanged Fury: Girl Edition,’” Kija whispered.

“No one liked that,” Seori said flatly. "I dont even have fangs!"

“It had flair.”

“It had zero sense.”

Jiyoon, crouched like a little devil in black joggers and a hoodie that definitely belonged to Heeseung, smirked. “Let’s just hope no one dies.”

“They won’t die, probably” Da-eun said, cracking her knuckles. “They’ll suffer artistically.”

Inside her bag was chaos. Seven meticulously packed pouches labeled with each vampire’s name. Each with their own flavor of ruin. They had talked a girl named Claire into giving them some spells they could use to help with the pranks, she did so before vanishing. 

Da-eun tapped her earpiece. “Phase One. Go.”

The prank began at 4:02 a.m. precisely. The school courtyard, typically silent at dawn, became the stage for glittery vengeance.

Jay’s Room, He awoke to the sound of flutes. Magical, echoing, damned flutes.

And when he sat up? His floor had been turned into liquid illusion. It looked like he was floating on an endless black ocean. Seori’s magic. Subtle. Powerful. He tried to step out of bed and screamed. It was convincing.

“You see this?!” he yelled, slipping and sliding on what was, in fact, a flat real floor. “I will DRAIN WHOEVER DID THIS!”

Somewhere across campus, Seori clinked her tea mug in celebration.

Sunghoon’s Room, Kija had gone for the throat. Or rather…the hair.

His entire head had been dyed a shimmering iridescent mermaid blue. The bathroom mirror had been enchanted. Every time he looked at it, it whispered: “Ooooh, you glow, ocean prince~”

“I’m going to set fire to everything,” Sunghoon growled, claws bared, as he scrubbed his head like a rabid beast.

Ni-ki’s Room, His closet was locked. Literally sealed shut with a sound spell. Every time he tried to open it, his own voice screamed back: “I LOVE Da-eun! I LOVE Da-eun! I WANNA KISS HER STUPID MOUTH!”

The girl had tears from laughing when she showed the girls the audio. Even Jiyoon clutched her stomach wheezing. Across campus, Ni-ki was losing his damn mind.

“No one leaves this alive,” he muttered, punching the door and getting a fresh “I LOVE Da-eun” for his trouble.

Sunoo’s Room, Y/n hadn’t targeted him. Seori had. His room had been rearranged upside-down. Literally. All furniture, photos, shelves, even his bedding were stuck to the ceiling. He woke up on the floor. He sat up groggy, looked around, blinked, and sighed, “I’m not even mad. This is art.”

Then he squinted at the ceiling and screamed, “DID YOU TAKE MY SKINCARE?!”

Jungwon’s Room, Seori had saved her best illusion for him. His room had been charmed to look exactly like a wolf den; complete with fur pelts, meat slabs, and a huge poster of Ni-ki labeled “ALPHA OF THE YEAR.”

“NO. NOPE. BURN IT DOWN,” he roared, shoving the wall so hard the poster fell sideways.

“I’m the council president!” Jungwon yelled.

“Not anymore,” Kija whispered dramatically.

Jake’s Room, Simple. Direct. Personal. All his black shirts were now bright pink. They sang when touched. They sang a ballad. About love. And puppies. And how his mate will one day “tame his soul with a touch.” Jake stared at his closet for twenty minutes in silence.

Heeseung’s Room, Jiyoon saved him for last. Not because she didn’t love him. But because she did.

His room had not been harmed. Not obviously. There was only one change: His pillow did not smell like her. Her blood bag, untouched, sitting on his desk. A note beneath it, handwritten: Don’t think just because I love you, I won’t play dirty. Sleep tight, old man. <3 —Yoonie

Heeseung stared at it for a long time, before folding the note and tucking it into his wallet. He whispered, “You’re gonna pay for that,” but his smirk was pure adoration.

The Seven stood in a circle on the grass by 7 a.m, glitter covered, shirtless, soaked, or hissing in some combination of outrage and shock.

Ni-ki was dragging glitter out of his ear. Sunghoon was wearing a hoodie over his glowing hair. Jungwon kept muttering “Alpha of the Year” under his breath like a curse. Jay looked betrayed. Jake kept trying to stop his shirt from singing. Sunoo was impressed. Heeseung…was smiling.

Like an idiot.

“You’re grinning,” Jay snapped.

“Shut up,” Heeseung said.

“You’re in love with a demon,” Ni-ki growled.

“I know,” Heeseung replied proudly.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw. “Sirens and fae and vampire girls who start wars. We’re all going to die.”

“They declared war,” Jungwon growled.

“No,” Sunoo corrected, raising a brow. “They declared art.”

It started innocently enough.

A sunny afternoon. The shared Creatures & Cultural Relations lecture. One of the few classes that demanded all species be present. That meant vampires, shifters, fae, witches, sirens…and the most dangerous group of all, bored immortals with a grudge.

Da-eun sat beside Jiyoon, two desks ahead of Kija and Seori. They were all lazily scribbling notes as Professor Thornbriar droned on about species treaties. “...the 1274 Accord of Frostpeak was instrumental in formalizing shapeshifter rights among—”

Thunk.

She blinked. Something wet landed on her page. Was that...red jelly? “What the hell,” she whispered, wiping it off.

From across the room, Ni-ki was smirking, twirling a silver spoon. Strawberry jelly. Her favorite. Bastard.

“Oh, you wanna play?” She muttered without looking at him.

Jiyoon looked over her shoulder. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

But then Kija yelped. “WHAT THE—”

Her water bottle had been swapped. Instead of cucumber-mint? It now tasted like spicy pickle juice with glitter floating in it.

Sunghoon didn’t look at her. Didn’t smirk or glance. But he had the gall to sip from her actual water bottle and set it down on his desk like nothing happened.

Kija’s eyes narrowed. “You’re dead to me, pretty boy.”

Across the room, Seori gasped quietly. Her textbook, her annotated, color-coded, organized textbook, was now enchanted to whisper Jay’s voice every time she turned a page.

“Hi, Seori. Did you miss me?”

“Page 108: You look really pretty today.”

“Still hate me? Impossible.”

Jay was openly watching her now, chin in his palm like he had all the time in the world. When she glared, he winked.

“Jay,” Jungwon said flatly beside him. “You’re going to die.”

“Worth it,” he muttered.

Jiyoon raised a brow as her pen suddenly levitated midair, drew a tiny heart on her paper, then scribbled in messy handwriting: Heeseung loves you, forever and always, signed your favorite bloodsucker. A tiny note illusion hovered next to it: P.S. You smell really good today. I’m suffering.

Jiyoon blushed. Heeseung just bit his lip across the room, fangs glinting in amusement.

It was all chaos. Silent, perfect chaos. The professor was still lecturing. No one dared interrupt. But the entire class had noticed, every creature in the room was watching.

The Seven were striking back. And the girls were trying so hard not to snap.

That was until Seori calmly closed her textbook, gave it a soft pat, and muttered, “Time for war.”

Jiyoon leaned over to Da-eun. “We’re doing this in class?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, smiling like a villain. “We’re just getting started.”

By the end of the class, no one remembered a damn thing about the 1274 Accord.

But everyone would remember. Ni-ki’s chair exploding into glitter and feathers the second he stood up. Jay opening his bag to find it singing opera in Seori’s voice. Sunghoon reaching for his notes and grabbing a bra (not his). Jake’s blood bag being replaced with pink lemonade and ghost pepper extract. Jungwon finding his laptop filled with animated shifter gifs kissing his face. Heeseung’s shoelaces being magically tied together, and tripping for the first time in almost 23 years.

They were immortals. They were rulers. They were also losing their minds.

As the bell rang and the classroom emptied, the professor finally looked up from his book. He blinked at the glitter, feathers, and faint echo of Seori’s enchanted voice singing from Jay’s bag. Then he sighed, “I really need a vacation.”

Ni-ki leaned back against the brick wall of the west corridor, arms crossed, hoodie hood pulled over his dark hair, lips twitching with anticipation.

It was her locker.

And inside? A rigged blood bag. Sealed to burst with perfectly timed pressure the moment she twisted the dial.

He’d been waiting for this all morning. Skipping breakfast had been worth it. Even Jungwon had given him a nod of respect, though Heeseung just muttered “you’re insane” and Jay threatened him with eternal academic sabotage if he got any on his shoes.

Ni-ki didn’t care.

This was personal. She got glitter in his bed last night. His bed. He was still finding it on his fangs.

Now? He was getting payback. Sweet, juicy, vampire-style payback.

He watched her walk up with her headphones in, looking cute in a way that made his fangs ache just a little. She blinked at her locker, twisting the lock open like it was just another day.

Then—PSHHHHHHT!!!

A spray of dark red blood exploded from the vent at the top, splattering her shirt, her face, her hair everywhere.

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

Ni-ki lost it.

Doubling over with laughter, he slammed his fist against the wall to keep himself upright. “Oh my god, you look like a horror film!” he wheezed.

She froze in place, dripping, blinking slowly. She turned and her eyes landed on him.

Ni-ki grinned wide, still wheezing, “Worth it.”

And then...BAM.

“OW—what the—”

She stormed up and kicked him straight in the shin.

With a huff. A little hmmp! Like she wasn’t a deadly vampire with sonic pulse abilities, just a pissed-off girl in a blood soaked hoodie and a personal vendetta.

“You,” she seethed, poking his chest hard, “are dead.”

Still snorting, Ni-ki limped slightly but followed after her retreating figure with a smug, stupid smile.

“Technically I already am,” he mumbled under his breath again.

Around them, the Seven were watching from a bench down the hall, Jiyoon curled under Heeseung’s arm, because the eldest vampire had gone feral since they mated and barely let her leave his side.

Jungwon chuckled. “She got you good.”

“She barely touched me,” Ni-ki scoffed, rubbing his shin with a wince. “She’s weak.”

“Sure,” Sunghoon snorted. “Tell that to your limp.”

Sunoo leaned forward, eyes glinting, “I give her two hours before she floods your entire dorm room.”

“She wouldn’t dare,” Ni-ki muttered.

“She's already dared,” Jiyoon replied with a sip of her drink, raising a brow. “You forget who you're dealing with.”

The Seven laughed. The hall buzzed with energy. And Ni-ki?

He just stared down the hallway where she vanished.

Stupid girl. Loud. Messy. Dangerous. Too dramatic.

And her face, covered in blood, had still been so cute.

He was so screwed.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the paved path that cut through the heart of campus. Da-eun strolled alone, earbuds in but no music playing, just static silence keeping the world at bay. Her hoodie sleeves were pulled over her hands, and her dark sunglasses sat crookedly on her nose, the evidence of prank war aftermath still lingering on her favorite pair.

She’d finally gotten a break from the chaos.

No glitter. No fake spiders. No blood bags. No Ni-ki.

A small sigh of peace left her lips as she passed the quad, nodding toward a few whispering sirens, ignoring the fae who eyed her from under their tree, and stepping wide around the shifters who always moved in packs because they stank.

She was alone. Gloriously alone. That was, until she wasn’t. “Wh—!”

In less than a blink, she was lifted. Her body slammed into a hard chest, wind howling past her ears, the world a blur as trees and buildings sped by in streaks of color. Her breath caught in her throat.

Vampire speed.

Only one person had the audacity to grab her like that, “JAKE!”

She pounded her fists against his chest, but he didn’t flinch. His stupid blonde hair whipped past her face, and she swore he was grinning.

“I’m going to kill you, you golden retriever piece of-”

Before she could finish her insult, she was dropped onto her feet, almost falling from the force. The door behind her slammed shut, and she heard the unmistakable sound of the lock clicking into place.

“Don’t you dare, JAKE, OPEN THIS DOOR!” She banged her fists on the wood. “YOU CAN’T JUST KIDNAP PEOPLE!”

No answer.

“Coward! I hope your shampoo runs out and you have to use conditioner first!”

Still nothing. Her fists dropped to her sides as she panted, blood running hot, rage mounting. But then a feeling slid down her spine. A chill. A shadow. The sudden, deep sense of being watched.

She turned slowly. And there, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed, the most infuriating smirk playing on his lips was Nishimura Riki.

“Oh hell no.”

She backed up immediately, the door pressing into her spine.

He pushed off the wall, casual as ever. “Hey, cupcake.”

Her eye twitched.

“I’m going to rip Jake’s stupid pretty boy head off.”

“Not if I beat you to it,” Ni-ki muttered. He was already walking toward her, slow and confident, like he wasn’t the most frustrating person on the planet. Like he didn’t deserve her foot in his ribs.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

He tilted his head, dark eyes unreadable. “Just wanted to talk.”

“Talk?” she spat. “You drenched me in blood last week. Yesterday you turned all my clothes pink. The day before that you replaced my lotion with glitter gel. And talking is what you suddenly want?”

He shrugged. “You’ve done worse.”

“That’s called self-defense.”

“You glittered my coffin.”

“You payed a shifter to bark at me for three hours!”

“You replaced my blood bags with fake ones filled with hot sauce.”

“You replaced mine with mango juice! Do you know what that does to vampires?!”

“Apparently it gives them the runs," Ni-ki laughed.

Da-eun despite herself, bit the inside of her cheek to stop from joining him. Silence fell between them, thick and awkward. She crossed her arms.

“Why now?” she asked quietly.

He blinked.

“Why are you doing this?” she clarified. “Locking me in a room. Playing all these stupid games. Is it just to win?”

His expression shifted then. Just slightly. Like the teasing mask slipped for half a second. “No.”

She didn’t move. “Then what?”

His mouth opened but he didn’t answer. Not with words, at least. He stepped forward. One step. Two. Her breath hitched as he got closer, crowding her against the wall again. He didn’t touch her but she could feel the heat of him, the way his energy shifted around her like a magnetic pull she didn’t ask for.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” Ni-ki muttered, voice low. “You’re loud. You’re messy. You drive me fucking insane.”

“Thanks,” she said, glaring.

“But…” he tilted his head, eyes flickering crimson for half a second, “...I think I’d lose my mind if you stopped.”

Da-eun blinked. Her heart kicked. Hard.

Who me?

She was silent for a long beat, trying to piece that together, trying to breathe through the confusing, crawling warmth up her neck. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was a menace. He was chaos. He was..he...he was staring at her lips. Her heart stuttered.

“I should go,” she said. But her voice was soft now. Not convincing.

“You’re locked in.”

“Right.” A beat passed. "Did you call me cupcake earlier?”

His lips quirked. “Yeah.”

“Don’t do that.”

“No promises.”

They were still too close. His smirk was too smug. Her pulse was too fast. She hated this. She was a deadly vampire for christ sakes. She could rip his throat out with her bare hand if she wanted to, she could...she...

She loved this.

“Whatever this is,” she said softly, voice uncertain for the first time, “it better not mess with me.”

Ni-ki’s voice dropped to a near growl, “It’s already messing with me.”

And that terrified her more than anything. Because that meant he felt it too. The pull. The heat. The weight of something ancient in their bones. And she suddenly wasn’t sure how long she could keep pretending it wasn’t there. They had been pretending nothing was there for years. A push and pull between them. 

Ni-ki took one step forward. Then another. Each one echoed against the walls like a countdown, like fate whispering it's time.

She didn’t move. Not even a breath. Her spine was stiff against the locked door, eyes wide and watching him like he was something dangerous. Maybe he was.

A crooked smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he finally stopped just inches from her. So close that her pulse was now something he could hear. It thumped wildly in her neck, echoing louder with every passing second, and he wondered if she realized how loud she got when she was flustered.

He liked it. No. He loved it.

His gaze dropped for a second to her trembling fingers fisting the hem of her hoodie, then lifted back to her face. Their eyes locked, and this time, neither of them looked away.

Ni-ki cocked his head, curious. It had always been like this. Tension. Bickering. Rage. Fun.

From the moment he’d laid eyes on her years ago during orientation, she’d pissed him off. The way she talked back. The way her voice could shake glass. The way her scent curled through the air like it belonged beside his. Like it fit.

It annoyed the hell out of him.

She annoyed the hell out of him. Still did.

But maybe his hyungs were right.

Maybe this wasn’t hate.

Maybe it was everything else.

He remembered the first time she’d glared at him, lips curled in irritation, power crackling under her skin. He remembered the way his instincts had flared, mine. It had been buried then, unspoken and brushed off.

But it was louder now. Stronger. Undeniable.

Ni-ki leaned in just slightly, his voice low and almost bored, but his eyes were anything but. “I wonder if you even know…”

She blinked. “Know what?”

His gaze dropped to her lips. “Why no one’s ever asked you out here.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion, but her breath hitched, and he felt it in his chest like a tether.

“You ever wonder that?” he murmured. “Why guys avoid you?”

Da-eun swallowed, shaking her head in slight confusion.

“Maybe they’re scared,” he said softly, “or maybe…” He leaned closer, his breath brushing her cheek. “…they already know you’re taken.”

Her eyes snapped up to his. “I’m not—”

He chuckled under his breath.

Liar.

She was trembling now. Slightly. Barely. But he could tell, her knees locking, her back stiffening, her chin rising as if it would hide the way her body leaned slightly forward. Toward him. God, she smelled like dusk and storm windsl, like a war he wouldn’t mind losing. His gums ached, not with hunger, but instinct. Claiming. Connection.

Bond.

And he knew. She might not have said it yet. Might not have admitted it. But her body already knew.

With a soft hum, he dipped his head lower, lips brushing her cheek in the lightest, cheekiest kiss. Not lustful, not gentle, not even romantic.

Just enough.

Enough to ignite.

Enough to bind.

The moment his lips touched her skin, a surge of heat ran up his spine, slamming straight into his chest. His breath faltered. Her eyes fluttered. Da-eun gasped softly, her body jolting slightly in place. He felt her power crackle faintly beneath her skin, warning an instinctive flare from her sonic pulse.

But she didn’t push him away. She didn’t scream or snap or slap. She just stood there. Stunned. Silent. Claimed.

And he…He smirked.

“Oops,” he muttered, tongue pressed to his cheek as he stepped back a single inch, eyes flashing with wicked satisfaction.

Da-eun blinked rapidly, breath short, hand lifting slowly to touch her cheek where his lips had just been, “You…you..”

Ni-ki raised an eyebrow. “I what?”

She couldn’t speak. And that? That was a victory he would cherish. Pranks, yelling, glares..none of it would measure up to this moment, and he felt like he already won. 

He turned away, walking lazily toward the window and pretending to examine the fading light. “Oh, and Dae?”

Her eyes snapped to him again.

“Next time…” he looked over his shoulder, his voice dropping into a low rumble. “…you’ll kiss me back.”

Then he was gone. Just like that. Leaving her breathless. And undeniably, irrevocably his.

The garden was supposed to be a place of peace. A sanctuary. A hidden corner on the edge of campus where students came to think, breathe, and pretend they weren’t trapped under the rule of the Seven and hardly paid professors.

But today? It was a warzone.

BOOM!!

A tree branch snapped, crumbling like wet paper as Da-euns pulse erupted again, her sonic magic crackling through the air in furious waves. Wind twisted around her, pulling at her hair like it was caught in a storm she created.

“FUCKING NI-KI!”

The four girls stood a respectful distance away, completely unfazed.

“Well,” Kija murmured, “there she goes.”

“She’ll run out of steam in a minute,” Seori added, sipping on a smoothie she'd conjured from god knows where, “or she’ll blast the koi pond again.”

“I hope not,” Sora, Seori's roommate, muttered. “The fish only just came back.”

“I still think they were traumatized,” Jiyoon said, folding her arms. “They swim away anytime they hear yelling.”

Da-eun, meanwhile, stomped through the garden path like it had personally offended her, hands waving as the ground vibrated beneath her boots. A flowerbed combusted at her left. A bench rattled violently on her right.

“He thinks he can kiss me, smirk like the smug little spawn of hell he is, and then disappear like a Bond Boy thats only debuted for a few weeks?” she shouted, whirling on her heel like a deranged ballerina. “I’m supposed to just sit here and giggle?! Like some kitten-eyed little...”

“You are a little kitten,” Jiyoon muttered, grinning. Seori elbowed her.

Da-eun didn’t hear them. She kept pacing, power fizzing and snapping off her skin like heat lightning. Her eyes were glowing faintly, the faint shimmer of magic bleeding through her irritation.

“I swear to all the gods, past, present, and whatever Ni-ki thinks he is...he’s lucky I didn’t rip out his smug little throat and scream Mine just to spite him!”

A bush spontaneously combusted behind her. “…He thinks just because I’m his mate I won’t reign hell down on him–”

Four heads whipped to her at once.

She froze realizing her mistake. Silence. A single squirrel chirped in the distance, then wisely fled the scene.

Seori blinked. “What was that?”

Da-eun turned slowly, hands half raised in the air like she'd been caught mid crime. “Uh…”

Jiyoon stepped forward. “No, no. Say that again.”

“I said…” Da-eun mumbled, trying and failing to gather her dignity, “…he thinks I won’t reign hell down on him.”

“Nope,” Kija said, voice flat. “The sentence before that.”

The girl in question groaned and dropped dramatically onto the grass. “I hate everything.”

“Oh my god,” Sora whispered, mouth twitching, “she finally said it.”

Jiyoon practically skipped over and collapsed beside her. “You admitted it. You finally admitted it!”

“I panicked,” Da-eun hissed. “It doesn’t count if I panicked!”

“Sweetheart,” Kija drawled, flopping beside them. “Your powers are literally nuking daffodils and shrubberies. You’re in full denial meltdown mode.”

“I hate him,” she insisted weakly, face buried in her hands.

“You love him,” Seori corrected.

“No I don’t.”

“You just called him yours," Jiyoon giggled

“It was hypothetical!” da-eun groaned. 

“You set fire to a rose bush yelling his name," Kija laughed

She glared in disgust, “That was unrelated emotional turmoil!”

Sora sat down last, knees tucked up to her chest like always. Her long black braid trailed over her shoulder, and shadows flickered faintly at her feet barely visible unless you knew to look. Quietly, she said, “It’s okay, you know.”

Da-eun looked up at the usually quiet latina, surprised.

“To want him,” Sora added, eyes thoughtful. “Even if it scares you chula.”

The wind died a little.

Da-euns fingers twitched, a sudden ache rising in her chest. Because yeah she did want him. Had wanted him for longer than she dared to say. But now everything had changed. That soft brush of lips against her cheek had sealed it. Their bond had awakened from the skin contact, and it was loud.

Louder than her magic. Louder than her fear. He was everywhere. In her bones. Her mind. Her breath. And for all her rage and sarcasm, she couldn’t ignore the truth any longer. She belonged to Ni-ki. And somehow…somehow, he belonged to her too.

“…I’m still gonna wreck his life in prank wars though,” she said finally with her stubborn self.

The girls exploded into laughter.

“Yes, baby,” Jiyoon cackled, hugging her sideways. “That’s my chaotic maknae.”

“Burn his closet again,” Seori grinned.

“Spike his shampoo,” Kija offered.

“I could…misplace his shadow for a day,” Sora said, voice soft, eyes glowing faintly.

Everyone turned to stare.

“…What?” Sora blinked. “I can.”

The mansion was too quiet.

Ni-ki stepped through the massive double doors with the rest of the guys trailing in after him. Sunghoon shrugging off his jacket, Jay cursing under his breath about a failed potion lab, and Heeseung tugging Jiyoon’s sweater from his bag like he’d somehow accidentally ended up with it again.

“Something’s wrong,” Jake said immediately.

“Yeah,” Sunoo added, nose wrinkling. “It doesn’t smell like death or misery in here. Weird.”

Jungwon’s brow twitched. “Or blood.”

And then they saw it. Ni-ki halted mid-step. His entire body froze.

There on their couch, in their living room, on the Seven’s territory sat five girls. Casual. Comfortable. Smirking.

“Oh, hell no,” Ni-ki started, but Jiyoon, seated in the center with a blanket folded neatly in her lap, calmly raised a hand.

“Truce.”

Every guy blinked.

“What,” Jay said flatly.

“We’re calling a truce,” Da-eun chimed, lounging dramatically with her arm over the back of the couch like she owned the place. “No more prank wars. It’s childish. Petty. Beneath us.”

“…Beneath you?” Jungwon echoed skeptically.

Kija shrugged from the far corner, a sucker in her mouth. “Well. Maybe not beneath me, but definitely beneath them.”

“We came to hang out,” Jiyoon added sweetly, all teeth and perfect grace. “Watch a movie. Be civil. You know…like friends.”

Heeseung squinted. “…Why do you sound like that?”

“Like what?” She asked the tall vampire.

“Like you’re about to stab me," Heeseung sighed as he carefully sat next to her. 

Jiyoon smiled, teeth glittering like a predator. “This is just my face.”

Ni-ki couldn’t stop staring.

They were all here. All five of them. Including the new one, the girl with midnight black hair, sunlit brown skin, and those unreadable dark eyes sitting beside Seori, her posture careful, deliberate. She hadn’t said a word. And the guys definitely had never seen her before.

“Who’s the extra?” Ni-ki muttered toward Heeseung.

“She’s not extra,” Jiyoon piped up. “She’s Sora.”

“We didn’t ask,” Sunghoon deadpanned.

“She’s Seori’s roommate,” Kija supplied, blowing a pink bubble between her lips. “Plays with shadows. Looks like she eats ghosts.”

“She doesn't eat ghosts,” Seori sighed, but didn’t deny the shadow part.

“…Why do you know someone who plays with shadows?” Jay whispered.

Ni-ki didn’t know what to say. But the longer he stared, the more off this felt. Still his girl was looking at him with a smug little tilt to her mouth, her chin in her hand, and he couldn’t help the way his smirk slid into place.

“Oh,” he breathed, “so this means I win.”

“You wish,” Da-eun shot back immediately.

But she didn’t deny it.

The rest of the guys settled slowly, warily, like animals unsure if the water was poisoned. But the girls acted like nothing was amiss, like they belonged here. Sora tucked herself quietly in the corner. Seori and Jay were bickering about what movie to put on. Jiyoon was stealing popcorn from Heeseung’s lap, and Kija had already stolen one of Sunghoon’s hoodies to wear only earning a silent glare.

Ni-ki slumped onto the floor next to Da-eun. He did not like how soft her laugh sounded. He did not like how warm her shoulder was against his. He definitely didn’t like the way his chest kept flipping over every time she looked at him with that teasing grin.

“I thought you hated me,” he muttered as the lights dimmed and the movie started.

“I do,” she whispered back, eyes glittering. “But hating you is exhausting. So I’m taking the night off.”

“…You’re plotting something.”

“Probably.”

He wanted to glare. He really did. But instead he snorted, tipping his head back against the couch with a little huff. “Psychopath,” he mumbled.

“Manchild,” she whispered.

And somehow it felt weirdly nice.

As the night wore on, the couches and floor were overtaken by the slow creep of drowsy bodies. Movie after movie played while soft snoring filled the space. Heeseung was passed out in a chair with Jiyoon curled up on top of him. Kija had taken the floor, draped in a comforter like a snake in hibernation. Seori was leaning on Jay's shoulder with a small pillow tucked under her head (he hadn’t moved in forty minutes). Sunghoon and Jungwon were slumped near the fireplace. Jake had somehow ended up beneath a pile of pillows. Sunoo had claimed the entire loveseat for himself. Sora tucked into a wall and just stared at the ceiling. 

And Ni-ki? Ni-ki sat there on the floor next to Da-eun, blinking slow and heavy as sleep tugged at him. She was still close. Still warm. Still smiling that sly little smile like she knew something he didn’t.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?” he mumbled sleepily.

“No reason.”

“You’re lying.”

“Obviously.”

His eyes slipped shut. The room dimmed further. And then Ni-ki passed out.

Unaware of the five mischievous girls now very much awake. Smirking like villains. Ready for war.

The moon hung high over the vampire mansion, casting a silver glow through the enormous glass windows and bathing the living room in a deceptively peaceful hush. Bodies were sprawled across the furniture and floor like a battlefield aftermath except instead of corpses, it was the infamous Seven.

Sleeping like the undead they were.

And they never saw it coming.

Not when Sora stood in the corner of the room just an hour before, her hands gently lifted as shadows seeped from her skin, swirling like smoke tendrils across the furniture and slipping into the noses and ears of each boy in the room. The shadows were gentle, not malicious. A fae lullaby that would keep them in dreamland for hours. Maybe longer.

It was perfect.

Now, in the oversized bathroom on the upper floor, the girls were in full chaos mode.

Jiyoon was bent over the counter, thick black gloves on as she hovered a bowl of fiery blazing red dye over a slumped over Heeseung, who was still fast asleep in the office chair Kija had dragged in earlier.

“You sure he’s out?” Kija asked, giggling as she separated strands of his perfect ash gray hair.

“He’s snoring like a fucking chainsaw,” Da-eun snorted. “Let me at Ni-ki, I’m dying to ruin him.”

“I have your bowl ready,” Seori said, holding up a porcelain mixing bowl like a crown. “Pure white. Even his eyebrows. He’ll look like a confused albino deer.”

Da-eun cackled. “Perfect. Prince Snowflake is going down.”

“Don’t get dye on his skin,” Sora warned softly from the corner. “I’m keeping the bond breaks active, but I’m not a goddess. We can’t have any accidental mating triggered awakenings.”

“Yes, yes, Your Darkness,” Kija teased, rolling her eyes as she wrestled Jake’s head into her lap. “Relax. We’re all wearing gloves and moving like surgeons. You’d think we were planning a heist.”

“We are,” Seori said. “A revenge heist.”

“Oh, Jay’s going to scream when he sees his silver hair,” Jiyoon hummed like a lullaby. “I might cry from happiness.”

Sora let out a rare, tiny laugh. “Sunghoon’s hair is going pink.”

“Baby Princess Rose,” Da-eun whispered dramatically, flicking her brush with flair.

“God, that’s so good,” Kija grinned as she painted dark blue dye into Jake’s roots. “We should make a calendar. Twelve months of the Seven Stages of Humiliation.”

“I call dibs on Miss July,” Jiyoon called.

“I bet Heeseung’s gonna combust when he sees himself in red,” Seori smirked. “Literally looks like a flaming hot Cheeto.”

“I love Cheetos,” Kija whispered wistfully.

Da-eun was kneeling now, lips pressed together in deep concentration as she dabbed white dye into Ni-ki’s hair. He looked oddly peaceful for someone so evil.

“Idiot,” she muttered. “Look at him, sleeping like a spoiled prince. Should dye his eyelashes too.”

“Do it,” Seori encouraged, throwing her a Q-tip.

They all burst into giggles again.

It was a perfect picture of unholy sisterhood, five girls crouched around their unconscious soulmates and semi-enemies, bowls of vibrant dye, laughter spilling out of their mouths, eyes shining with victory. They moved like witches around a cauldron, except instead of spells, they dealt in bleach and vengeance.

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” Kija asked, even as she foiled the ends of Jake’s now-navy locks.

“Because,” Da-eun said proudly, “they thought we were weak.”

“They thought we were done,” Jiyoon added.

“They called us friends,” Seori said, offended.

“They didn’t even lock their rooms!” Sora pointed out, flicking a strand of pink across Sunghoon’s temple.

“They’re idiots,” the mastermind Da-eun grinned.

“Arrogant. Cocky. Dumb as bricks.” Seori’s eyes gleamed as she added, “Pretty bricks, though.”

“Pretty little princess bricks,” Jiyoon corrected.

“I’m calling Ni-ki Elsa until I die,” Da-eun declared. “Let it go, bitch.”

They lost it again full belly laughs as they worked through the last few strands of dye.

By the time the girls were finished, the bathroom smelled like fruity chemical warfare. The sink was lined with bowls, gloves, and towels. Each boy was carefully set upright, the dye setting beneath shower caps and loose towels tied haphazardly like regal crowns.

The Seven wouldn’t wake for another hour or two, just long enough for the girls to vanish without a trace.

They stood back, admiring their work.

Sunghoon’s head lolled over Sora’s shoulder, his now pink strands glowing in the moonlight. Jay’s silver glinted like frost. He’d probably have a meltdown. Or a fashion crisis. Jake, navy blue and blissfully unaware.

Sunoo his beautiful golden blonde stripped and dyed jet black. “You always hated it,” Kija cooed. Jungwon's wolf cut was now purple haze. Seori bit her knuckle to keep from laughing. Heeseung’s blazing red looked incredible.

And Ni-ki white hair, white brows, white lashes. Pale and frosty, sleeping like he hadn’t spent the last few years tormenting the girl now grinning over him with triumph in her bones.

“You’re not gonna know what hit you, Ice Princess,” Da-eun whispered, her eyes full of lightning.

“Alright,” Jiyoon said, slapping her gloves off. “Operation Pretty Princesses is complete.”

The girls fist bumped in silence, grabbed their things, and exited the mansion like shadows.

By the time the Seven woke, the sun would be rising and their reputations would be dying.

Popcorn popped in the microwave. A bowl of candy sat at the center of the coffee table. Sora had even brewed a pot of cinnamon tea, because she believed that chaos deserved comfort.

The five girls sat curled up on the couches and beanbags of Da-eun and Jiyoon’s shared dorm, legs crossed, matching pajamas on, snacks in hand and mischief behind every single smile.

“Ten seconds,” Jiyoon muttered, glancing at the wall clock with a smug smirk. “They just woke up.”

“They’re going to burn down the campus,” Kija said, reclining dramatically. “And I would do it again.”

“We will do it again,” Seori added under her breath, munching on a salted caramel pretzel.

Da-eun had her legs kicked up on the coffee table, arm slung over the back of the couch, a piece of candy between her teeth and her eyes locked on the door.

Waiting.

Counting.

Boom.

The dorm door flew open with a bang loud enough to shake the walls.

And there they were.

The Seven.

And their hair.

Heeseung entered first, red locks blazing like hellfire, styled wildly from sleep and frustration. His eyes locked instantly on Jiyoon, and he looked two seconds from combusting but damn if he didn’t still look hot as hell.

Jake was next his dark navy blue hair tousled like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times in horror. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were wide, like he’d just discovered he was in a boy band.

Jay stalked in after him, his once dark hair now silver. Not platinum. Not ash. Shining silver. He looked like a pissed off K-pop idol in a dystopian fantasy.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?” he demanded, pointing at Seori.

Sunghoon stepped in behind him with cotton candy pink hair, and Sora actually wheezed.

“I didn’t do anything!” Seori lied with a grin. “And you sunghoonie look like a strawberry milk commercial!”

Then came Sunoo, glaring daggers, now with pure black hair that practically shimmered under the dorm lighting.

Jungwon followed, his purple hair fluffed into wolfish curls, his face set in the calm of a man plotting multiple murders.

And last Ni-ki.

Pure white hair.

White eyebrows.

White lashes.

The ice prince himself.

Da-eun locked eyes with him, biting her lip so hard it almost bled.

Heeseung pointed at the couch. “You planned this.”

“Oh nooo,” Jiyoon said in mock horror. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You dyed my hair red!”

“It looks good, babe,” she deadpanned, tossing a popcorn kernel into her mouth. “Fire suits you.”

Jake blinked rapidly. “Is this navy?! Kija..Kija?!”

“I was aiming for denim,” she said sweetly.

“I look like an anime villain!” Jay shouted again.

“That’s not our fault,” Seori replied calmly. “That’s just your personality.”

Sunghoon crossed his arms, glaring at his reflection in the glass window. “Pink? Seriously?”

“You look like a pig,” Sora said softly, and the girls broke into giggles at the insult.

Sunoo just stared at them all with the glare of a thousand suns. “You touched my blonde.”

“You said you hated it,” Jiyoon pointed out. “We were being thoughtful.”

“I look like I run an underground nightclub in Seoul,” Jungwon said, flipping a purple curl out of his eyes.

“You do,” Kija replied.

Then came the silence. The boys were glaring. The girls were laughing. The tension was as thick as syrup.

Then, “…Actually…” someone said. It was Sora, head tilted. “You all kind of look… hot?”

Everyone froze.

The guys blinked.

“Wait...what?” Ni-ki asked, pausing mid-glare.

Seori narrowed her eyes. “Oh no.”

“NO,” Da-eun said, sitting up. “Don’t do this. Don’t get cocky.”

But it was too late.

Heeseung had already leaned against the wall with a confident smirk, red hair falling into his eyes like he was about to drop an R&B mixtape.

Ni-ki pushed his newly white bangs back, licking his lips with that devil may care expression that had Da-eun's eye twitching.

“Oh my god,” Kija groaned. “We just made them hotter.”

“This was supposed to humble them,” Seori whispered.

Jay turned his head slightly to catch his reflection in the window. “…Silver suits me.”

"I'm always sexy," Jungwon grinned. 

Jake tugged his collar, posing. “Do I…pull off blue?”

“Stop it!” Da-eun shouted flashing her fangs. “You’re supposed to be humiliated!”

Ni-ki turned to her slowly, a smug grin crawling across his face. “So what you’re saying is you noticed.”

She threw a pillow at his head. He caught it.

“I hate you,” she muttered.

“Do you?” he asked, already planning revenge for this accidental win.

“Deeply, Elsa.”

Heeseung leaned down beside Jiyoon, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “I knew you couldn’t resist dyeing me. I’m just too pretty.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered.

Sunghoon and Kija exchanged eye rolls without words.

Jay and Seori were glaring at each other again. Jake and Sunoo were flexing into their reflections.

And Sora just sipped her tea, watching the chaos unfold with quiet amusement.

Operation Pretty Princesses?

A technical failure.

But emotionally?

The girls would never stop laughing about this.

It had been exactly seven days since The Dye Job.

Seven days since Ni-ki had woken up with white eyebrows, ghostly lashes, and hair that could blind a god. Seven days since the girls cackled their way out of Da-eun and Jiyoon’s dorm like evil gremlins with glitter in their pockets.

But now…

It was Ni-ki’s turn.

He leaned back in his seat, legs spread wide like a king on a throne, arms draped over the bench behind him. The campus lunchroom buzzed with life students murmuring, magical creatures whispering, fae flickering in and out of view, witches levitating food trays. But none of it mattered.

The Seven were here.

And they were plotting.

“Everything ready?” Ni-ki muttered under his breath.

Jake nodded, a slow grin curving across his lips. “Seori’s going to lose her mind.”

“I want Kija to cry,” Sunghoon added flatly, arms crossed.

“Oh, she will,” Jay muttered darkly.

Heeseung, sitting at the head of the table like some devilish vampire prince, cracked his knuckles once. “Make it loud.”

Sunoo smirked. “Always do.”

Jungwon just gave a single nod. Calculating. Calm. Deadly.

Ni-ki looked down at his phone, sent the final text to the hidden witch on their payroll everything in this school could be bought, and waited.

Cue the girls.

Da-eun walked in first, loud and radiant as always, with her hair tied up in a bun and smugness radiating off her. Her voice echoed from across the room.

“I’m just saying, if Ni-ki tries anything, I’ll break his teeth.”

Behind her, Jiyoon, Kija, Seori, and Sora followed. All five girls glowing. Laughing. Happy. Smug.

Ni-ki’s lip curled. Perfect. The Seven sat in silence. Waited.

And then—

BOOM.

Suddenly, five massive screens dropped down from the enchanted ceiling of the dining hall with a thunderous snap. Every screen lit up in sync. And what did they show?

Footage.

From the night of the dye job.

Witch recorded footage.

Jiyoon dancing around Heeseung’s unconscious body with red dye all over her gloves. Kija holding up a bottle labeled “Ocean Madness” while laughing like a banshee. Seori whispering “he’s going to look like a fairy” as she dumped silver into Jay’s shampoo. Sora humming while mixing three colors at once with eerie, shadowy tendrils. And Da-eun

Oh Da-eun. Throwing her head back and laughing as she whispered, “I hope Ni-ki never recovers from this he’s going to look like a snowman!”

The cafeteria went dead silent.

SCREAMING.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Jiyoon let out a high pitched squeal, diving behind Sora. “HEESEUNG!!”

Seori shrieked, slapping her hands over her face. “JAY I SWEAR TO GOD!”

Kija launched a roll at Sunghoon’s head, missed, and hit a random demon in the eye.

Da-eun stood frozen. Silent. Until she realized her laughter, her evil cackling, was on every single screen. She shrieked. “NI-KI!”

The vampire himself was grinning ear to ear, white hair glinting under the magical lights.

“Oh don’t stop now,” he called across the room. “Play the second video!”

Before the girl could run, more footage rolled in.

Clips of them high fiving. Sora’s evil little snort. Kija calling Sunghoon 'Ken from hell.' Jiyoon saying she should give Heeseung green tips next time. Da-eun practicing her 'apology speech in the mirror and failing to keep a straight face.

Absolute. Chaos.

The room was in shambles. Creatures were howling with laughter. Witches were whispering about “the fall of the girl gang.” A dwarf choked on his soda.

And the girls? All five of them were screaming. Yelling. Throwing food.

But the Seven?

Oh, the Seven just leaned back in their chairs, arms folded. Smirking.

Heeseung gave a slow clap. Jay saluted. Sunoo winked. Jake blew Kija a kiss. She nearly combusted. And Ni-ki?

He stood up, walking with slow, smug steps across the cafeteria toward his fuming mate, dodging the half empty water bottle she hurled at his head.

“I win, sweetheart,” he said in a low voice, stopping inches from her.

Da-eun looked like she wanted to rip her own face off. But instead? She narrowed her eyes. Smiled. “Oh baby,” she said sweetly. “You better sleep with one eye open.”

Ni-ki just grinned wider. “I always do.”

Later that day, The sleek black car purred beneath Ni-ki’s palm as he adjusted the collar of his designer coat. Leather interior. Tinted windows. Heated seats. The damn thing was built to scream royalty. Just like everything else in his life.

He didn’t look up from his phone as he started the engine, eyes scanning the message from his mother, Can’t wait to see you, darling. Tell the boys I said hello.

He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Yeah, no.”

The wind shifted. The smell of a fresh storm and heat slammed into him. And then a flash. His passenger door clicked shut. He blinked once. Then slowly turned his head. There, in his passenger seat, wearing black ripped jeans, a cropped hoodie, combat boots and a very irritated pout on her face, was Da-eun.

Oh. Hell.

“What the..” he started, sitting upright. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t even glance at him. Just crossed her arms with a dramatic huff, looking straight ahead like she owned the car. “What do you think? I’m visiting your parents, obviously.”

Ni-ki's jaw ticked. “How the hell did you?”

“I’m psychic.”

“No, you’re not," he groaned.

“I am now.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You can’t read minds.”

“Maybe I can. Maybe I’m full of surprises.” She looked over at him with a smug tilt of her head.

He squinted. “You heard me telling Jungwon, didn’t you.”

Da-eun just shrugged.

Ni-ki groaned and slumped back in his seat, gripping the wheel like it had personally offended him. The silence that followed was thick. The kind of silence that crackled with static energy, the kind that made it hard to breathe. She was pouting. Arms crossed like she had the right to be mad, lips pursed in that soft pink way that made his gums ache. She smelled like summer and sin and something his.

She wasn’t even doing anything. Just sitting there. Looking mad. Looking soft. And it was driving him insane. Ni-ki swallowed hard. His tongue ran over his fangs, pressing against them like it would help. It didn’t. His gums were throbbing. His instincts were screaming.

Bite her. Bite her. Bite her.

No.

She turned her face toward him slowly. “Are you just gonna sit there like a statue or are we going to your house?”

“I should throw you out of my car.”

She blinked. “Try it.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Because if he opened his mouth, he might say something stupid. Like ‘you look pretty when you’re mad.’ Or ‘I want to pin you against the window.’

Instead, he just stared at her. And she stared right back. Her heartbeat quick for a vampire. Her breathing slightly uneven. She was nervous.  She was feeling it too. That damn pull. That instinctual ache that said you’re mine. I’m yours. Why are we even pretending? He leaned slightly closer, one hand still gripping the wheel, the other reaching up to flick his blinker on just to do something.

She tilted her head. “What?” she muttered.

“You know what,” he said lowly.

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re in my car.”

“I’m your mate.”

Oh, fuck.

He choked back a groan. His fingers tightened on the wheel. That word. That one word. Coming from her.

Mate.

Mate.

Mate.

He felt like a wild animal. “Put on your seatbelt,” he gritted out.

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, I might crash this thing on purpose.”

“Why would you—”

“Because I’m two seconds away from losing it and if I don’t have some distance right now, I’m either crashing this car or marking you in it.”

Da-eun blinked. And for once said nothing.

But her cheeks flushed, and her scent spiked with something sweeter. And Ni-ki was doomed as he held his breath.

The moment the car passed through the looming obsidian gates of the Nishimura estate, Y/n knew two things.

This place was straight out of a gothic fever dream.

Ni-ki was stupid rich. Like, dripping in dark opulence, the kind that said "my ancestors probably ruled the night with iron fangs."

Stone gargoyles perched on the towering gates. The driveway was carved from polished black marble, and the mansion itself...no, castle, stretched across acres. Ivy clung to the stone walls, and dozens of windows glimmered like obsidian mirrors.

“Jesus,” she muttered as they approached. “Do you guys sleep in coffins too or…?”

Ni-ki didn’t answer. He was too busy trying not to look at her. Because ever since she’d gotten in the car and decided to be nice, it was like his brain had melted into a puddle of want. She wasn’t being fake nice either. She was being mate level nice. Sweet smiles. Casual touches. Laughing at his jokes, complimenting his driving, resting her hand on the console just close enough that their pinkies brushed.

And she was still teasing him with every breath she took.

Her scent was like honey drenched chaos. She wasn’t just the storm she was the lightning inside it.

And Ni-ki, arrogant, cold, untouchable Ni-ki was sweating.

He parked in front of the mansion’s massive front steps, fingers tense on the wheel.

“Ready?” he asked, voice low.

She smiled. It was slow. Dangerous. Sweet. “Absolutely.”

As soon as they entered, the double doors creaking open with ancient weight, two vampires stood from the velvet couches near the hearth. Elegant. Sharp. Dressed in black silk and blood colored accents.

His parents.

His father tall, carved from shadow and power. His mother delicate and lethal, like a rose with invisible thorns.

They looked at Da-eun once, then back at their son.

Then again at hera and for a moment the silence was thick.

Until his mother smiled gently, knowingly. “So this is her.”

Da-eun blinked dumbly. “Her?”

Ni-ki groaned.

His father chuckled darkly. “We didn’t think you had it in you. You’ve never brought anyone home before. You barely even bring friends.”

Ni-ki shot Da-eun a withering look. “I told you this was a bad idea.” She stepped forward with grace that made her look like she'd walked out of a royal court.

She smiled, soft and charming. “Da-eun. It’s lovely to meet you both. Your son didn’t warn me you were so intimidating, but I guess he likes to play rough.”

She tilted her head, blinking up at them with wide eyes and a small smirk. The perfect mixture of sweet and wicked. Ni-ki’s mother grinned. Ni-ki’s father barked a laugh.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” his mother asked.

“I’d love to,” Da-eun answered with zero hesitation.

Dinner was held in a grand dining hall under a blood red chandelier. Everything was velvet and candlelight.

And the young vampire?

She was thriving. She charmed them effortlessly. Spoke clearly, cracked jokes at Ni-ki’s expense, listened when his parents shared stories, complimented the wine, nodded thoughtfully when they talked about lineage and legacy.

She laughed, touched Ni-ki’s hand just lightly enough to haunt him, and even helped clear the dishes when his mother got up and that was the moment his mom practically decided she loved her.

Ni-ki sat there, elbows on the table, watching in shock. Because this wasn’t prank war Da-eun. This was mate mode Da-eun. She was absolutely radiant. Her laugh like honey, her gaze like firelight, her words so smooth it was like she was built for this.

She wasn’t playing the part. She was owning it.

And every now and then, when she caught Ni-ki staring at her like she’d grown wings and fangs made of gold, she winked.

Later that night, as she followed Ni-ki down a candlelit corridor toward the guest room his mother had insisted she stay in, the girl thought this has been fun. The teasing. The war. The fire.

But she wasn’t fighting anymore.

Because somewhere between a prank and a blood stained locker, she’d fallen completely, stupidly, irrevocably in love with Nishimura Riki. And maybe she wasn’t quite ready to say it. But she was done pretending she didn’t want him.

She would give him a little more time to catch up. But not much.

Because one look at him at the way he opened her door, mumbled goodnight, stared at her lips before pulling away told her he was already hers.

They barely made it out the door.

Ni-ki didn’t care that the estate gates hadn’t even closed behind them yet, didn’t care that the house staff probably saw them walking toward the car hand in hand like a normal couple. Didn’t care that he’d been doing everything in his power not to bite her neck in front of his parents.

The second Da-eun opened the car door and climbed into the passenger seat, he was already moving.

The click of the door closing sealed their fate. In a blur, he was across the console, fingers gripping her hips like they were crafted to fit his hands, and he pulled her right onto his lap.

“Ni-ki,” she gasped, startled, laughing at first until she saw his eyes.

Crimson. Wild. Hungry.

He growled low in his throat, a sound that vibrated through her spine. “You think this is funny, little girl?”

She smirked, even as her heart fluttered like mad. “A little.”

Wrong move.

He growled again deeper this time and slammed his mouth against hers.

It wasn’t gentle. It was claiming. Teeth. Tongue. Desperation.

She moaned into his mouth, fingers tangling in his dark shirt. Her thighs clenched on either side of him, and he hissed, lips dragging down to her jaw, then her neck but not the spot. He wouldn’t mark her. Not yet. Not until she asked.

He bit everywhere else.

Along her collarbone. Behind her ear. Her shoulder. The curve of her throat. His sharp canines grazed her skin, just enough to sting.

“You think I don’t see you?” he growled, voice hoarse and breathless against her throat. “Walking around with that mouth, talking back to me. Teasing me like it doesn’t drive me insane.”

She just arched into him, head thrown back against the headrest, panting. “I know it does.”

“Mine.” His voice was sharp, his grip brutal but reverent. He tugged her closer until she was practically pressed into his skin. “You’re mine, Dae. You always were.”

“I am,” she purred, not flinching under his fire. “And you’re mine, Nishimura.”

He groaned. His head fell to her shoulder like he couldn’t bear it anymore. “I hate you,” he whispered.

She grinned, nose brushing his hair as her fingers slid into the strands. “Liar.”

“I do,” he muttered again, even as his mouth kissed her throat. “You’ve made me insane. I can’t think straight. I want to bite you every second I see you. I want to lock you in a fucking room and never let you out.”

Her hips ground against his, and his head snapped back, a ragged moan escaping him.

“But you won’t,” she whispered, voice breathless and wicked. “Because you like that I can fight you. You like that I make you feel.”

“I want to ruin you,” he growled, lips brushing hers again. “But I want to protect you more.”

“You’re a mess,” she teased, licking into his mouth again. “But you’re my mess.”

He kissed her like that confession shattered something in him. Like the war was over, and they both knew exactly who had won.

And then he kissed her again, harder this time. Over and over. Bruising. Intoxicating. Her hands were everywhere. His were too. The air was hot, their breathing uneven, and somewhere in the back of the car, the windows were fogging up.

But there was no rush.

No claiming.

Not yet.

Only the feeling of having each other finally, undeniably, desperately.

When they finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together and breaths ragged, Ni-ki closed his eyes.

“You’re everything,” he whispered.

She cupped his face, her thumbs stroking over the edges of his sharp jaw, and smiled.

“I know.”

The room was tense.

Silence had weight in the headmaster’s office, thick as iron, settled over the leather chairs and dark oak bookshelves like fog before a storm.

Five girls sat lined against the wall, all with wildly different expressions from amused to annoyed. Jiyoon twirled a piece of her hair around her finger. Seori looked completely unimpressed. Kija rolled her dark eyes. Sora sat like a quiet shadow in the corner. And Da-eun had her arms crossed, leg bouncing, lips pursed in frustration.

Across from them, the Seven sat scattered and lounging like this wasn’t serious at all like they didn’t have a care in the world.

Heeseung leaned back with an arm tossed behind Jiyoon’s chair, gaze bored. Jay’s jaw was locked, but he tapped his finger rhythmically against the armrest, pretending to look anywhere but Seori. Sunghoon’s legs were crossed, expression unreadable. Jake actually looked like he was trying not to laugh. Sunoo was picking at his nails. Jungwon looked the most composed but that was saying little, considering the heat in his eyes. And Ni-ki? Ni-ki was slouched down, leg propped up on another chair, head resting on his knuckles, completely smug.

The headmaster stood behind his desk, red faced and trembling, trying to assert authority.

“This..this has gone far enough,” he bellowed. “The pranks, the defiance, the chaos it’s unacceptable. You’ve disrupted the order of this school! I don’t care who you are—”

“Wrong choice of words,” Jungwon muttered, almost pleasantly.

“I’m issuing a week long suspension to all of you,” the headmaster declared, slamming a folder onto his desk. “You’ll miss next week’s classes and be barred from all school events for the next two months.”

The girls all turned their heads slightly half shocked, half impressed. But they didn’t have time to say a word. Because something shifted. Suddenly, the room dropped ten degrees.

The air wasn’t just heavy anymore, it was dangerous.

Heeseung stood first. Not fast, not violent. Just perfectlycalm. Deadly. He stepped forward, arms still at his sides, and tilted his head ever so slightly.

“Who do you think you're talking to?”

The headmaster paled. “I—I am the head of this institution, and you—”

“You work for us,” Jungwon cut in coolly. “Let’s not pretend otherwise.”

Jay stood next, adjusting the cuffs of his white shirt. “Do you really think this school would even exist without our families donations? Without our protection?”

“Our legacy built this place,” Jake added, voice sharp beneath the usual humor. “We keep it from burning to the ground. You’re just lucky we let you sit in a chair with a nameplate.”

The girls stared, stunned, as the Seven rose one by one. They were calm too calm the kind of calm that made skin crawl.

Sunghoon finally spoke, tone glacial. “Suspend us. See what happens.”

Sunoo clicked his tongue. “You won’t last a week, old man. You’ll be gone before your coffee cools.”

Ni-ki’s smile was pure sin. “And if you so much as look at Dae again with that authority complex of yours, I’ll make sure your family tree disappears."

The headmaster was trembling now. “You wouldn’t—”

“We would,” Jungwon said. “And we have.”

The room was silent.

Even the walls seemed to hold their breath.

And then, “Y-you may all go,” the headmaster stuttered. “Please. I-I see no reason to escalate anything. Just…go.”

Heeseung shot him a cold smile. “Pathetic.”

The girls stood slowly, unsure. Still a bit stunned. No one said anything until the hallway swallowed them.

“That was…” Jiyoon whispered, glancing at Heeseung.

“Fucking wicked,” Y/n finished.

Kija whistled. “Remind me to never cross you guys.”

Seori blinked at Jay. “...I didn’t know you could even threaten people like that.”

Jay scoffed and looked away, ears tinged pink.

Sora finally cracked a grin. “I feel honored?”

“They really are terrifying,” Kija said under her breath.

“We heard that,” Sunoo chimed, smirking.

“And it’s true,” Seori said dryly. “But thanks, I guess. For the protection. Or whatever that was.”

Da-eun looked over at Ni-ki, who was walking a little too smugly beside her. “Don’t let this get to your head.”

“Oh, too late,” he shot back.

The girls glanced at one another, all silently agreeing the same thing. The pranks were fun. The wars were chaotic. But they might be done with them for now.

If only to survive.

Because being suspended was one thing. But seeing the Seven unleashed?

Yeah. That was a whole new level of terrifying respect.

The sound of wet clay being squished and spun filled the bright pottery room, the scent of earth and damp sponges hanging in the air like some kind of oddly satisfying perfume. Aprons were on, sleeves were rolled, and hands were messy but the five girls couldn’t have looked more at peace.

Well, as peaceful as you could be while Jiyoon was shaping her bowl like she was molding Heeseung’s abs from memory.

“Okay, but seriously,” Kija said, flicking a glob of clay onto her own wheel with flair, “we need to talk about what happened in the headmaster’s office.”

Seori raised a brow. “You mean the moment the boys decided to go full mafia boss and destroy a man’s career for us?”

“Exactly that,” Kija snorted. “I’m not saying I’m into power moves, but if Sunghoon ever talks to me like that—”

“You’ll what?” Da-eun cut in, smirking as she shaped her vase. “Cry? Faint? Ask him to step on you?”

“I’ll punch him,” Kija declared. “Maybe kiss him first. Maybe punch him after. I’m flexible.”

Jiyoon, red in the face and spinning her third lopsided cup, mumbled, “I mean they were kind of amazing. Heeseung was so calm, and cold, and hot. Like a real CEO villain in a drama.”

The room went silent for a beat.

Then Seori blinked. “Jiyoon, you were practically drooling on him the entire walk home. I thought I was going to slip and crack my head open on the sidewalk.”

“I wasn’t-” Jiyoon started, then stopped. “Okay, maybe a little. I can’t help it.”

“Rabid dog,” Kija teased under her breath.

“I support women’s rights and women’s wrongs,” Da-eun added with a wink. “Slobber all you want, bestie.”

Across the room, Sora was quietly smoothing the rim of her bowl. She hadn’t said much, per usual, just moving through her pottery like a silent shadow. Until, “I’m thinking about writing an editorial,” she said out of nowhere, her voice quiet but sure.

All four girls froze.

“...Come again?” Seori asked slowly, like she wasn't sure she heard right.

Sora lifted her head, blinking at them with absolute seriousness. “For the school newspaper. I think I’ll title it ‘Seven Bloody Reasons to Fear and Respect the Lords of Decelis.’ Or maybe ‘Why Being Simpable Isn’t a Crime.’ Something like that.”

The silence stretched.

“Oh my god,” Da-eun choked, hands flying to her mouth.

“Sora,” Jiyoon whispered, eyes wide. “That was a full rant.”

“I support you,” Kija said immediately, proud tears threatening.

“You want to write about how cool they were?” Seori asked, grinning. “You really are one of us.”

“I’ve been one of you,” Sora said with a small smile. “I just don’t waste words unless they matter.”

Seori cackled. “Icon.”

Jiyoon leaned toward her, whispering, “Sora, be honest. If you had to kiss one of them, who would it be?”

Sora paused. Blinked. “...None.”

“Liar,” they all chorused.

“Okay, but speaking of kissing,” Kija said, twirling a lock of her hair and turning toward Da-eun. “How’s your chaotic disaster relationship with Ni-ki going?”

The girl didn’t miss a beat. She smirked, pressing her fingers into the clay and humming innocently, “I plan on getting bitten this weekend.”

“JESUS” Seori groaned, shoving away from her wheel and covering her face.

Jiyoon cheered, flinging clay into the air. “That’s my girl!”

“I hate it here,” Seori muttered.

“I support it here,” Jiyoon grinned.

“I’m covering my ears,” Sora announced, placing her palms over her head like earmuffs. “You’re all corrupted.”

Kija leaned over with a dreamy sigh. “Still planning to punch Sunghoon. But like…with tongue, maybe.”

“Please stop talking,” Seori pleaded, laughing despite herself. “I said I’d be nice to Jay for one hour next time I see him, and that’s it. No touching, no eye contact, and he better stay out of my personal bubble or I swear to all the devils he will die.”

“He breathes near you and you melt,” Da-eun said under her breath.

“I do not—”

“You do,” Jiyoon and Kija said in unison.

The room erupted into laughter, messy and warm. Clay flew, jokes fired, and for the first time in a long time, everything felt light.

They’d survived the storm. Fought the chaos. Laughed through the madness.

And now?

Now they were just girls in aprons, shaping more than just pottery but shaping a friendship no one in the world, not even seven elite vampire soulmates, could break.

[cake-writes]

Earn It

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: filthy smut, ANAL (yes reader is 100% that bitch), kinda-sorta dubcon due to alcohol, praise kink, pain kink (yes reader is also 100% that bitch), safe word mention (not used), subtle D/s undertones, begging, degradation, count down, squirting, 18+

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: so you can blame my darlings @mandalorianspace​ and @buckybarnesplumwhore​​ for this one. THANKS A LOT. 💀 also I could not be fucked with the ending so lmao sorry but the smut is just more important here, okay???

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

You’re on your hands and knees in front of your boyfriend of two years, side of your face pressed into the sheets – and although you can’t see him, you can hear the roughness in his voice, feel his callused fingertips dig into the flesh of your ass as he spreads your cheeks apart. 

Despite how long you’ve been together, though, it’s unfamiliar.

“Bucky,” you gasp as his vibranium thumb smooths over your puckered hole. “Please fuck my ass, please—”

The tip of his thumb slides in, and you shiver.

“You’re so tight, honey,” Bucky warns, voice low, bordering on dangerous. “Sure you can handle it?”

You take his warning as a challenge, of course you do, but you don’t miss the slight note of concern in his tone. You’ve done anal before, just not with him because you’ve always been so intimidated by how thick he is. Even told him that once a long time ago. Funny story, that. 

Right now, however, you’re high on endorphins and drunk on too many shots of tequila to care.

“Yeah,” you respond breathily. “I need it. Baby, please.”

You’re eager, so much that you barely notice when he replaces his thumb with a finger until it sinks further inside than the former could ever reach. Just one finger leaves you gasping, never mind two as he stretches you open even more.

“Bucky,” you whine, wiggling your hips, impatient and needy. Two fingers isn’t nearly enough preparation considering how long it’s been since you had it last, but you want him. You want him so fucking badly, and he’s taking too long.

As if on cue, a third finger presses inside and you hiss at the burn. It’s a reminder that you shouldn’t rush, but you want it. You need it.

“Fuck me,” you plead, reaching back to spread your cheeks apart so he doesn’t have to. “If it won’t fit, then make it fit. I don’t care. Just fuck me.”

Bucky stops, three fingers buried knuckle-deep in your ass, to stare at you – not that you even notice, because you’re already so fucking gone for it. You do hear a hint of surprise in his voice when he asks after a too-long pause, slowly, teasingly pulling his fingers out, “What’s our safe word?”

This isn’t the first time you’ve done a scene, and you breathe, “Peaches.”

“Good girl.”

After a playful smack to your ass, Bucky releases you to retrieve the bottle of lube from your nightstand. You pull your head up off the sheets to peer back at him, heartbeat pounding in your ears as he pops open the bottle. 

There’s something about the way his skin seems to glow in the warm lamplight, or maybe it’s the way his hair falls so perfectly into that pretty face of his; or how, when his eyes meet yours, dark and teasing, you feel yourself get even wetter at his approach.

Anticipation.

The lube is cold and wet as it drips down the crack of your ass and onto the bed. Some small part of you is thankful that he had the foresight to lay down a towel, but the thought is quickly forgotten when he holds the tip of his cock against your hole. 

You think you’re ready. You’re beyond ready. 

It's slick, ridiculously so, the way the head pops in without a hitch – but it’s a beautiful stretch, one that stings just enough to make your legs quake. You bite down on your lower lip because it feels good, too. Too good. Too right.

A whimper escapes your throat when Bucky presses in further, because that’s when it starts to hurt a little bit more – but you don’t use your safe word, because maybe you want it to hurt. Or maybe you just want him balls-deep inside you so badly that you don’t care. Or maybe that’s the tequila talking. 

You assume he’s about halfway in when he withdraws almost all of the way to spread the slickness further. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I—”

Your affirmation is promptly cut off with a moan when he slides back inside, a little further than before, but that’s where he seems to get stuck. Not in the literal sense of the word, but your channel just can’t seem to take any more of him no matter how gently he tries to ease inside. You’re just too tight.

“Hurry, baby,” you whine. “Please.”

You’re already being stretched to the limit, and it burns in the best of ways, but you want him inside. You need it.

The warmth of his palm on your ass cheek is a balm as Bucky mutters to himself, “Make it fit, huh.”

And that’s when you know you’ve made a mistake, because he lets go of your hair to grab your hips – but before you can stammer out your concerns, he slams all the way inside, punching the breath from your lungs. You swear you actually see stars because it hurts, fuck, it hurts, but hell if you don’t love it all the same. You swear aloud, too; a string of filthy curses escapes your lips as your back arches, hands balling in the sheets below.

With Bucky so fully seated inside of your ass, you quickly realize that he couldn’t have been anywhere close to halfway before. He’s just too big, too thick, you’re not ready—

But no safe word. Not yet. It hurts too good.

His body cages yours in from behind, but all you can focus on is the searing stretch of his cock deep inside of you. He’s pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder and whispering sweet nothings against your skin, perhaps meant to be a distraction, and it helps a little.

“Fuck me,” you rasp. Your pussy is drenched and he hasn’t even started moving yet. “Baby, please, I can’t—”

You can’t even think, let alone form a coherent sentence, but he understands just fine. His withdrawal is almost as bad as the entry – but that perfect pain twists and warps into some semblance of pleasure within your masochistic brain as he starts a slow, gentle rhythm, one that has your eyes rolling back.

“Look at you, honey,” Bucky whispers, one hand smoothing down your back, cool vibranium meant to soothe, “Taking every fucking inch.” His praise has your core clenching around nothing, but it makes your ass tighten up, too, makes him groan out, “Good girl. God, you’re so good for me.”

“Y–Yeah,” is all you can manage to respond with, because your mind is blissfully blank. 

There’s another pause as Bucky adds a little more lube, and then he’s pulling your arms back, dropping your face back onto the sheets – but that’s fine by you because you’re practically drooling anyway, and when he picks up the pace, you actually do drool. He stops being gentle because he knows you can take it, knows you’ll use your safe word if you have to, and the feeling of him pounding your poor abused ass into oblivion only sends you higher.

Mindless babbles and pleas leave your mouth on an endless loop; you don’t know what you’re even saying anymore, other than yes, yes, yes. Your knees slide further apart from his onslaught, which changes the angle just enough for him to slam into your sweet spot.

“I’m— Bucky, I’m gonna—”

You’re teetering on the edge, ready to implode, ready for him to put you out of your misery.

“Not yet,” he orders. “Wait for me.”

The sheer command in his voice makes you clench up again, because it’s near-impossible to stave off the inevitable. The pain’s given way to pure, unbridled pleasure at this point, and it teases your undoing, makes you so fucking desperate to come that tears start rolling down your cheeks. It’s adrenaline. It’s delirium. Your voice goes hoarse begging him to fill you up, to give it to you, to let you come, please, baby, please—

“Oh, honey,” Bucky coos, tone patronizing, smoothing your hair from your face. “You wanna come so bad, don’t you?”

“Please let me come,” you beg, not even caring anymore what a state you must look: face hot, flushed, tears staining your cheeks, saliva smeared down your chin and on the sheets. “Please, please, please—”

Each ‘please’ is punctuated with another slam of his hips until two of his fingers are in your mouth, digging into your cheek, stifling any further pleas; not that you don’t continue to try. Muffled, incomprehensible moans are all that come out.

“Too bad. You’ve gotta earn it.”

That’s when he finally lets go and buries his hand in your hair instead, to push and pull you as he pleases, use you however he likes.

“So fucking desperate—” Bucky slaps your ass hard with his vibranium hand and you jerk in surprise – not that you mind, because it feels so fucking good. “Had to shove it in ‘cause you’re such a needy little slut, isn’t that right, honey? So now you’re gonna take it, just like you asked for.”

As if it’s not hard enough to hold back, now he wants to talk to you like that?

“Bucky, please—” You’re sobbing with desperation as he pulls your hair back by the roots. “Please, I can’t, I can’t—”

You’re like a broken record, but you’re pretty sure it’s your brain that’s broken because you just can’t comprehend anything anymore. You feel like you’re floating, almost, ready to combust but you’re just not allowed to, yet.

“I’m gonna count down,” Bucky tells you, voice strained, and you know then that he must be close. “Three.”

Vibranium fingertips dig into your hipbone, hard enough to leave bruises, and he uses the tighter grip to pull you back harder onto his cock.

“Two.”

Sloppy wet sounds echo through the room as he slams into you with a more frenzied, albeit uneven pace.

“One.”

And then he angles his hips just so, aiming for your sweet spot once again which he successfully hits, over and over and over until finally, finally—

“Let go. Let me feel you.”

In an instant, your body tenses up like a live wire as you reach your peak with a strangled cry, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids in what’s probably one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had. He’s never made you hold out for so long, never made you beg this much before, but it’s certainly done something for you if the sudden gush of wetness between your legs is any indication.

“Christ, sweetheart—”

Bucky shoves in as far as he can go, and you feel a sudden burst of warmth deep inside as he fills up your ass just like you begged for. Aftershocks have your body spasming as his cock pulses inside of you, once, twice, three times, four—

And then his grip goes lax, on both your hair and your hip, and your scalp aches painfully but not nearly as much as your backside. It stings and burns as he slowly pulls out, gently massaging your lower back as he does: another welcome distraction.

The head of his dick slips out with a distinct pop, and you whimper. If it’s because of the loss or because of the pain, you’re not sure but either way you’re definitely going to feel it in the morning.

Pulling some wet wipes from your bedside table, Bucky attempts to carefully clean you up, but you’re already so sore so you take it from him and do it yourself.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, continuing to rub your back. “Did I hurt you? Was it too much?”

You give him a dopey smile. “Yeah. But it was worth it.”

Bucky snorts. “Sometimes I think you like the pain a little too much.”

Then he presses a kiss to your forehead, to which you let out a sleepy hum of approval. You love his aftercare, you really do, but today a cuddle is more than enough. The two of you lay together on the bed as he strokes your hair, and when you fall asleep, Bucky thinks to himself, well, you definitely earned it.

[alldayangst]

gold rush (Tom Holland)

All of my fics are LGBT and PoC friendly. Inspired by gold rush by Taylor Swift. Everybody wants Tom, but you don’t like a gold rush. WC: 2.7K words. 

“Y/N, I just wanted to say again, thank you for coming in today and doing this for us.” Tom’s dad, Dominic, said as he displaced papers across desks, earl grey swaying like an angry lake in his mug. Approaching footsteps hinted that the star of the show was soon to be hold. In other words, Tom was running behind.

The door creaked and light from the corridor crept through like Sun peeping through curtains of the Night. It refusing to shut after Tom budged and pushed was maybe divine punishment for him being so late, and maybe provided the bit of laughter you needed after rolling out of bed at 6am for this, for him. When the door eventually did close, Tom turned around and saw you in all your glory; much taller than he remembered, more assured than he’d imagined, and more gorgeous than drowned out and half forgotten memories of you could ever fabricate.

You and Tom ran in the same social circles, but hadn’t seen each other since Tom’s career imploded when you were both nineteen. As much as Tom felt he owed his heart and soul to the UK, he maintained an almost permanent fixture on the States. It started to feel like his trips back to England were in fact actual holiday. At one point, you were in love with Tom, but meeting became a constant battle of ‘here, not there’ and your heart grew tired of the duck and goose chase. The gravity of the situation was too much for you, whom hadn’t even tasted their twenties yet. 

“Y/N!” Tom launched at you and held you in tight embrace. You let go of the hug, but he didn’t. And his dad watched on in momentary awe as you wrapped your arms around Tom once again, who breathed in every part of you with unwavering adoration.

“Tom!” You rubbed along his back as he hummed. “When I was told we were gonna have a ghost writer, I had no idea it was gonna be you.”

Tom and his dad (being an author) were collaborating on a book, a million dollar idea that’d been years in the making. Tom had stalled it, his dad told you out of simple insecurity. Now that the world was a stage, he was worried people would criticise his dyslexia with every line he wrote, that every stroke of his pen would reveal him as a rare type of monster that lacked intellect, he pondered that he wasn’t insightful enough in some way. His dad may have written a book about Tom outfaming him, but Tom felt like he’d always live in Dom’s shadow in this respect. Fresh from Oxford with an English Bachelor’s degree, Dom employed you to get grease on the gears to commence writing. Tom had always come out of his shell when you were around.

Your writing session lasted from 8 til noon, when Tom had promo with LadBible or Entertainment Weekly or whoever had bid the highest from his presence that day.

The door swung open and three men in all black and mics saddled around their waists called for and led Tom out of the room.

“Tom, session’s over. We need to get you to your BBC promo in 30 and we’re already running behind schedule.’ One cloaked Tom in a jacket you were sure was more expensive than your own home and another whispered something into a walkie talkie: “Holland is on the move. Check the back entrance is clear.” With that, Tom rose to his feet and left completely opposite of the way you came in. Without a word, no goodbye.

You and Dom left the building together around ten minutes later, where ten men with large cameras stood, lenses focused on you, glaring at you, not sure what to make of you. One of the men screams “Hey! You dating Tom Holland” and after that all you hear is clicks and all you see is bright flashing lights and Dom clenches your hand and leads you to your taxi cab.

The next time you see Tom is sooner than expected. The Hollands were hosting a last minute dinner party and you found yourself sitting opposite Tom, feeling his hard, hot and heavy gaze on you. The tension in the room was so thick not even a chainsaw cut through.

“Next topic,” You picked up a card from the deck and read it aloud. “Politics!” You said devilishly as you sip on what was left of the white wine in your cup, and now that your thought process is blurred; Tom’s longing gaze puts you at dismay.

“Fuck!” Harry exploded, and you hear their mother hiss. “Fuck I hate politics, there’s no making it out alive!” he remarked as he drummed on the table cloth, drunken excitement brewing a new energy in the room.

You go on like this for hours until dinner party is dinner party no more. And while Dom, Nikki and all of Tom’s siblings have chosen to exit stage left, it’s 1am and you and Tom have yet to leave the scene.

Tom sets down your deck of debate cards in favour of a genuine moment.

“What are you doing these days, Y/N?” Tom’s not looking at you, he’s looking at your knee as he rubs circles on it. You want to look down there too, see what he finds so intriguing; but you decide against it in fear you might spontaneously combust. You don’t know if this moment’s supposed to be intimate or innocent and you’re not sure if you want to find out.

So you put up a wall.

“I should be asking you the same thing, Holland.” You say sarcastically. “What have you been doing these days? I haven’t seen you around.” Your eyebrows scrunched up together but you’ve got a big, idiot grin on your face that’s more than telling. Tom giggles at your facetiousness.

Tom scratches his head in mock thought. He never clocks out, always putting on a show. “I don’t know - uh.” You’re laughing before Tom has even told the punchline, ‘cause I guess anything’s funny when it’s said by the one you love.”I’m kind of -” He snatches an old Spiderman comic off the floor. “I’m kinda doing this acting thing at the moment. Playing, y’know, this guy.”

“Well I wish you better luck in the future.” Tom has stopped rubbing circles but instead places his two hands on your knees as you rock back in laughter.

“I’m serious, Y/N. What do you do now?”

“Um.” You suddenly forgot your entire career as Tom, with no shade of subtlety, stares right into your soul. “I got my degree. I write like little stories, y’know? Have you ever heard of folklore?”

Tom shook his head.

“They’re like these little, old beautiful myths. And I write them for a living. And if I’m lucky, they get published in The Times. If I’m even luckier, I get to work with my old best friend - ” You feel your world stop temporarily as you call Tom your ‘best friend’ and you pause for all of 0.3 seconds to register Tom’s reaction but his face doesn’t flinch. “-Writing a book with him and his dad.” And that makes Tom smile. So he doesn’t have to tell you he missed you, you just know.

‘Undivided appearance’ and ‘undivided attention’ don’t necessarily mean the same thing in Hollywood as they do in real life, and you learn that the hard way in your writing session.

Tom may have been sat right next to you, but he was miles away. He was doing press with Cosmo, who hadn’t stopped tagging him with blue hearts on his Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat stories, causing his phone to go off every two seconds. You looked at the phone and then at him who then got the hint and put it on silent. Then there was a knock on the door. Tom rushed to open it, expecting that Dom had sent down a food delivery to egg you on finishing this chapter. You rehashed his childhood like a million times - in fact, you were part of it - so when it came to writing the parts that hurt, where you took a more supporting role in his life, you needed his help. The fact is, the knock at the door had come from one of Tom’s men (Tom liked to call him Man In Black no. 3) who hadn’t said as much as a ‘hi’ before he made his announcement. “Tom, you’re on the line with Cosmo in 10.” The man stepped back and pulled out his walkie talkie, “Holland knows he’s on the line with Cosmo at 10.” And then continued to pace around the hallway.

Cosmo called as he said they would and you almost felt for. second like tom might enjoy an entertainment magazine’s company more than yours. The interviewer made glaring comments and passive flirts at Tom who just blushed and chuckled and sipped his water like the woman on the phone calling him ‘hot’ was just too much to handle. At one point, she says: “What must it be like to grow up that beautiful, Tom? With your hair falling into place like dominoes.” You’re not expecting it when Tom tilts the phone so you’re in view. “Well I’m with the most beautiful being on Earth right now so..” Tom looks at you as if to ask ‘is this okay?” and you know it’s too late for these kind of questions, because that moment is headline fodder, so you smile not to make him feel bad for opening Pandora’s box. But Tom is merciless and likes to rub salt in the wound. “This is Y/N! Y/N’s helping me write the book with my Dad! We go way back.” He covers his mouth as soon as he says it. “Shit! They’re not supposed to know about the book yet.”

This is the moment, you think, where you believe when they say your first love is the one you never let go.

And you can’t think of anything purer than the love you have for him.

Tom thinks being on land is boring. He likes being strung from chords 30 feet in the air, and drowning in despair through scenes of emotional turmoil. You want to tell him you’re an arrow from Cupid’s bow about to reach him, but you couldn’t recover from the splinters if Tom shut you down. After all, Tom was a gold rush. A treasure that everyone had discovered but nobody owned. How precious is a jewel that anybody could take home with them?

Tom had invited you to a visit to Brighton with him, a city near the coast, for some inspiration on writing his section of the book. 

You accepted. And because you did, you found yourself at the beginning of the end, on Tom’s boat in Brighton. “We don’t have to talk about the book right now.” Tom throws a stack of blue tinted paper on the floor. His dyslexia meant that spelling and reading was so much easier when done on blue pages, and you could only guess that was the reason the body of water around you brought him so much peace. So when you saw that something might compromise your best boy’s happiness, you point it out. To give Tom a little bit of time to exit before things got ugly.

“Tom, I see someone in the bushes.”

“Yeah. It’s a pap.” Tom mumbled nonchalantly. 

“They’re here to get pictures of me,” He turned to face you. “and you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, the fans ship us. Think we’d be a good couple after that Cosmo stunt. We would have been a good couple when we were like, 18.” He laughs.

“Huh, yeah.” You look down.

“The best one around.” And you can’t tell if he’s serious.

You rip off one of his blue sheets. “I’m coming. I got hit with inspo.” And you trail to a different section of the boat. A very obvious click of the camera from a shrub nearby coaxes your pen to write without a second thought, How is he so accustomed to this? Fake private moments, protected by sheer glass curtains?

You scrunched your paper, well his paper, into a ball. 

Your mind had turned his life into folklore. You weren’t sure if that was crossing a line, so you just put the ball into your bag and hide it until he hits you with the spark again.

“Let me see it.” Tom says.

“No.”

“You ran off to write it and won’t let me see it?” 

You held your bag at your hip in defence. “No, Tom. Drop it.” 

Tom’s face drops a little bit, but then he reaches into his own bag and reveals a deck of your debate cards. “I know what will cheer you up, good ol’ Y/N.” He sets a card on the wooden table between you two. 

“Do you believe in a higher power?”

You toyed with the pendant around your neck which revealed your faith. “Do you?”

“I don’t. But I believe in soulmates.”

You look to the left to really ponder on what Tom is saying, and a paparazzis captures another photo of you in the corner of your eye.

“And you don’t think there’s a higher power that manufactures our souls to make our soulmates?”

Tom feigns a scowl. “That’s ridiculous.”

You scoffed. “How very contrarian of you.”

“What the fuck does that mean.”

“It means you contradict yourself, Thomas.” You laugh as he holds his chest in fake hurt.

“Are you implying I’m anything less than perfect?”

“Never.”

Never. Because you didn’t believe that to be true. 

“Good. Cause you’d have to be punished.” Tom picks you up and throws you in the water below before jumping in with you.

On your way home you stop at the yours and Tom’s writing booth, scavenging through your bag to drop off Tom’s notepad, some scrunched up blue and white papers you and Tom thought could still help you write his book. You’d made an addition to your love-hazed scribblings about Tom and reckon you’d die if he found it. You managed to throw the other in the water, excusing yourself with “It’s utterly awful.”, to which you and Tom agreed you wouldn’t throw any more paper in the ocean cause the poor fish already had it hard enough.

You and Tom had a session the next day. Tom was excited for the day, and you could tell because he’d given his phone to one of his big babysitters for the time he had you.

“I think that’s all of yours.” You and Tom made a business out of unscrunching your paper balls to see if they had any useful ideas. You were certain you reached the end of Tom’s. All of his notes had ‘T.H’ written on the back in big and were scribed on blue paper. When it came to your little ‘secret admirer’ notes you weren’t worried - you had an English degree and were quick to think on your feet and was ready to make something up when it came to opening it. 

“No, this one’s mine.” He’s confident, so you let him have it. He goes to pick up your tea and then realises it’s nowhere near warm, and was the one you made for yourself when you crept in yesterday evening. Tom has a smile on his face, and then he doesn’t. Before he goes to read it aloud, his eyes tell you he’s reading it again and again and again. “At dinner parties, I’ll call you out on your contrarian shit, and the coastal towns we wondered round will never see a love as pure as it.”

The look on Tom’s face gives you the splinters. He tries to look at you but you know he can’t. You don’t blame him. You can’t look at him either. “I really thought this was a good friendship.”

You hum and nod your head in agreement, pull your lips into a thin straight line as streaks of tears abandon your eyes. This was worse than Tom rubbing salt in your wounds. He’s rubbing dirt in your painful fucking gashes and you are reminded of why this didn’t work before, why it will never be.

And you wouldn’t dare to dream about him anymore.

Masterlist

Upcoming Works

[highqueenofelfhame]

I forgot to send in an ask for it so that one weird one I sent earlier :D

It was bittersweet, this night at their spot. Ever since freshman year, they’d been coming to this empty field to get drunk and high. They’d get wasted and stare at the stars, babbling back and forth about life and their existence.

Tonight was different, with Mason and Luna drunk and dancing almost too close to the pond. Genevieve sat in the back of Julian’s truck with her legs dangling over the side. Julian was perched beside her and a blanket was draped over their shoulders. They sat with their shoulders pressed together and where their hands were braced on edge of the bed, their pinkies touched. They watched their friends quietly, laughing under their breath when they both collapsed in the grass.

“Jules?” Genny looked over at him, her chin tucked against her shoulder. She was moving across the country tomorrow. This private gathering with Julian, Mason, and Luna was a farewell, a last hurrah.

Julian turned to look at her and Genevieve’s breath caught in her throat. It always hit her how beautiful he was, how striking all of his features were. How deep and blue and beautiful his eyes were, how being in such close proximity to him always left her breathless.

“Yes, love?” He said softly, licking his lips. Genevieve pressed her lips together for a moment, inhaling the scent of his cologne slowly. Julian was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. The way he’d called her love for the last year had wrecked her over and over and he didn’t even know it.

“I have a...request, of sorts.”

“And what might that be?” Julian tilted his head slightly and arched a brow, his face somehow becoming more sharp, more handsome. Her fingers reached up to brush along his cheekbones, to trace the Cupid’s bow of his lips.

“I want to know what it’s like,” she whispered, eyes focused on his mouth, on the way her fingers traced over his lower lip. “Just once.” His lips pressed into a soft kiss against her fingertips and her eyes rose to meet his.

“Ask me,” he said quietly against her fingers, the warmth of his breath easing the chill in her fingers.

“Kiss me, Julian.” He leaned so close that their noses touched, their shared the same oxygen and Genny had never felt more high — until he kissed her.

It started slow, their hands still braced on the edge of the truck aside from one of Genevieve’s hands that was barely touching his cheek. Julian’s lips were soft against hers, and she wanted to whine when he pulled away from half a second. It didn’t take long for his mouth to be back on hers, this time his lips parting so their tongues delicately brushed together.

Genevieve was on fire, combusting and imploding and exploding. She was an imploding star, expanding into the universe and when his hand slid into her hair she thought he cursed into her mouth. Without realizing how it happened, she was laying on her back with Julian hovering over her, the kiss intensifying and threatening to consume her wholly. Her hands were gripping the sides of his shirt, his hands were running against her bare skin and she could hardly breathe for the electricity jolting through her veins.

“Stop,” she breathed, her heart aching and hands shaking. Julian pulled away immediately, breathing heavily and searching her face for what was wrong.

Genevieve was leaving tomorrow. Moving across the country. She was hopelessly in love with the boy on top of her, and kissing him had erupted volcanoes in her veins. Kissing anyone else would never been like kissing Julian. She would never be consumed like that by another person. She would never feel it in every nerve, every bone, every fiber of her body. Kissing Julian had been coming up for fresh air. Kissing Julian had awoken her after years in a comatose state. Kissing Julian had happened too late.

Kissing Julian had been a mistake.

This sucks I’m sorry lmao

@mariamuses @starseternalnighttriumphant @hannreadsalot @city-of-fae @myfeyrelady @westofmoon @nalgenewhore @kandasboi @awesome--username

[sugarchains]

I JUST WATCHED THE NEW SPACE SHOW AT WORK AND LIKE IT'S ABOUT DARK MATTER AND DARK ENERGY AND SPACE JUST THERE IS SO MUCH UNCHARTED SPACE CAN WE HAVE STARFLEET ALREADY PLEASE I WANT TO GO EXPLORING