#because I EARNED IT DARN IT

[metastablephysicist]

just learned about scotch darning. oh the humble blanket stitch... <3

[mymelodyisme]

Feeling chatty and yearnful. I had a lot of candy 🗣️

[yan-randomfandom]

Hello ! Could you write about how the yandere saja boys would react if the reader was attacked by a random demon that was trying to steal her soul on her way home ?

Saja Boys and Huntrix x GN!Reader

Oh anon,,, they'd never let that happen

For Saja Boys, if one of them sees a demon near you, he'll send a warning, like a haunting whistle of a known tune — Soda Pop or Your Idol, really.

For Huntrix, I think it goes to a comedic tone because holy shit!! Demon near!!

Saja Boys

They respect the demons. Demons are already struggling as they are, and they just didn't know that you belong to them.

Likewise, the demons respect the Saja Boys. They'll comply with their wishes. If anything, you just earned the protection of all demons.

If Gwi-Ma learns about you, well, I don't think he'd give a darn — one soul is a small price to pay for billions. (Just have to wait 'til they're sick of you or something. Or old age. Old fire's waited this long.)

Huntrix

First and foremost, they'd need to distract you from seeing the weapons in their hands and the demon itself. It's probably the smoothest thing though, and you won't ever see it 'cause they're literally doing it behind your back.

Oops, you dropped your wallet. You crouch down and at the same time the Huntrix member throws her weapon at the demon. You stand up again, seeing her innocent smile.

Yerp, just like that. They struggle more than the Saja Boys unfortunately.

— ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[mercurial-chuckles]

Sappy Sunday Thought!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Warnings: Sap | Overloaded fluff | Language | Bucky being such a little shit Word Count: ~500 A/N: My hubby and I went to a friend's house for dinner. They have a three-year-old boy who is absolutely adorable. When I knelt down to greet him with our usual high-five and fist bump, he blushed and shyly looked away. They told me the little guy has a massive crush on me! He talks about me all day, asking when I'll come over and waiting eagerly. My poor heart! 😍💕🥹🫠 Even on his dad's birthday recently, he apparently asked when my birthday was. It completely melted my heart. So darn cute! Not to mention, my hubby playfully glared at him and told him he couldn't marry me because I belong to him. The poor kid almost cried, and it took both me and his parents to pacify him afterward! The whole ordeal sparked a little blurb idea for me! 💕🤭 Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! GIF credits to @upcomingactress Divider credits to @buck-star Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

If you wanna read more, here's a follow-up: Bucky Barnes vs Ethan Stark

♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

Indulge Away!

"Stop it, Bucky," you warned, pulling the tiny form of Ethan away from your husband's arms.

"Hey," Bucky snickered, swatting your arm away from the kid playfully.

"NO. NO," Ethan yelled, clinging tightly to your knee, making everyone around you laugh.

"Oh, now you're just being mean, boy. Leave her alone. She's mine," Bucky said, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

"MAMAAAA!" Ethan shouted, his voice surprisingly loud for a three-year-old.

"It's okay, baby. Uncle Bucky is only joking," Pepper cooed from the other end of the living room, gently fixing Morgan's hair.

"Yes, Ethan, Uncle Bucky's just having fun. Right, Bucky?" you asked, throwing a warning glance his way. All your husband did was shrug and flash you a bright smile.

"No, I'm not. You can't have her, Ethan. That's that," Bucky whispered, further aggravating Ethan's plight. You responded with a not-so-light punch to his right bicep, but he only chuckled, leaning closer to kiss your cheek.

Ethan was on the verge of wailing, so you turned, picked him up, and sat him on your other side. Tony approached, leaning down to meet his son's eyes.

"You've got no chill, Bucky," you muttered over your shoulder.

"Tell you what," Tony began, drawing Ethan's attention. "We can always get Beebee to fight Uncle Bucky and keep her with us," he said. Ethan instantly brightened and looked to you for confirmation.

"Sounds good to me," you whispered to Ethan, earning an enthusiastic fist bump from the now-happy toddler.

"Now, who in the world is Beebee, Stark?" Bucky asked, frowning.

"Let's not tell him, yeah?" Tony replied, winking at Ethan as he lifted him into his arms. "Keep watching over your shoulder, buddy," Tony added, walking away.

"Buddy, Beebee's comin'," Ethan echoed over Tony's shoulder in his adorable little voice.

You turned to Bucky, giggling at his half-exasperated, half-stunned expression.

"Seriously? I can't have you roaming outside our home with a STARK-LEVEL PROBLEM," Bucky groaned, emphasizing the last part as he shouted after Tony and Ethan.

Leaning in, Bucky pecked your lips and whispered, "What the fuck is Beebee?"

"It's the giant bot Tony's been working on," you replied.

Bucky rolled his eyes, scoffing at the idea of a massive robot chasing him off just so Tony's son could kidnap you.

"I'd like to see it try," he muttered.

If you wanna read more, here's a follow-up: Bucky Barnes vs Ethan Stark

This is a part of ♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

If you wanna be tagged in my works, add yourself here. <3

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[yamsdiary]

'Darn Abalone' by Oh Aesun from Class 3-8

[translated by me]

Day after day, abalone, abalone. Even as typhoons rage, it's abalone, abalone. More cherished than her own daughter, still abalone, abalone.

When she dives below, shouldn't she surface soon? Why then does silence stretch, leaving no news? Is it because the abalone hides, refusing to come forth, or because her breath falter, holding her under the sea?

Her dear child’s heart burns with worry as that darn abalone scorches Mother from within.

A hundred hwan earned by selling abalone. I would pay them to buy a single day’s rest for my mother.

My mother, with her aching back, my mother, coughing and weary. If only, for a hundred hwan each day I could let my mother take a rest.

"Then grow up fast. Grow up fast, and give me a hundred hwan every day."

ㅡ

OH AE SUN, When Life Gives You Tangerines (2025) EP01

[revelboo]

this right here is your ask to write a character you have wanted to write but haven’t gotten around to yet!!!

How about a shit-post scenario? I need more of the extra tiny Blokees… give me a teeny Star, Sounders, and Shocky

Mass Displacement Mayhem

Wheeljack x Reader

• Sitting crosslegged and sorting odds and ends into piles for Wheeljack, your head snaps up at the ‘oops.’ Eyes widening when he lunges for you, a hand outstretched and doesn’t quite make it. Whatever he was working on blowing up. Throwing your arms over your head as Wheeljack slams into the counter you’re on and curls himself over you, you hear shrapnel pinging off his back. And the blast of energy released knocks you flat as Wheeljack makes a funny noise. Then mass shifts, his optics widening as he scrambles to climb up with you. Hooking your arms around him, you pull and fall backwards with him sprawled on you. But when you lift your head, your mouth just falls open.

• “Ow,” he groans, before panicking that maybe he’s crushing you and trying to get up. Only to look up at you. “Oh.” Because you’re bigger than him somehow. He’d mass displaced past his limit and he’s about knee high on you now. Flexing his servos as he sits up, his vocal indicators flash pink when you touch them. “That wasn’t supposed to do that.”

• He’s toddler sized. Still Jackie, but so little. And you know darn well he’s an adult bot, but you still grin like an idiot and examine his little hands. Because he’s so adorable this size. When he doesn’t protest, you drag him into your lap, hooking your arms around him like a teddy bear. “I didn’t know you could go this small.”

• “I can’t.” Vocal indicators fully red now as you wrap yourself around him fussing over how tiny he is- and why are you talking to him like that? Voice cooing like he’s a sparkling. “I uh, really need to mass shift back?” That earns him an unhappy sounding ‘aww’ and he grimaces. “I guess i don’t have to right this second,” he mutters, venting when you hug him even tighter. Because being cuddled definitely isn’t awful. Hears you murmur he’s ‘toddler sized’ and has no idea what that means, but at least you’re happy? And as far as explosions go, this one wasn’t that bad, really. Comm pinging, he acknowledges it and hears Ratchet’s furious voice yell at him. “What the Pit did you do? I know this was somehow you!” Oops. Maybe it was isolated and not that- optics shuttering as pings start coming in from all over the Ark.

• Making a noise, Wheeljack just slumps, face pressed against you as his hands fist in your shirt. “I did it to everyone,” he groans as you bite back a laugh knowing he won’t appreciate it. But he’s so cute this way. It can’t be all that bad, they can just mass shift back, right?

[heethera]

˖*°࿐ •*⁀➷ 𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐞

➜ summary: you ask jake to teach you how to flirt so jay will notice you. he says yes...despite having a 10 year crush on you

pairing: sjy/jake x f!reader,wc: 13k words , genre: friends to lovers, neighbor!au, fluff, romcom w: rude jokes, cussing, kissing

If someone asked you what Jake Sim smells like, you’d say a spoonful of ego, a dash of overpriced cologne samples he steals from Sephora, and a hint...just a hint of asshole. You’ve known him since you were six and he tried to sell you your own eraser for a dollar. You called him a scammer and well, he called you stupid for not realising it sooner.

It’s only been downhill ever since.

You grew up with him through scraped knees, schoolyard brawls, and the terrifying year he thought bleach blonde hair made him look like Draco Malfoy. It didn’t. Made him look like a surfer dude, probably named, Todd. 

In middle school, he once convinced your entire class that you’d peed your pants during dodgeball. Naturally, you got your revenge by hacking into his Habbo account and stealing all his hard-earned furniture. He didn’t speak to you for a week…though you framed the silent treatment as “the best week of your life.” He jumped on you and tried to strangle you with his bare hands before you kicked him in the groin. The two of you had to be pulled apart by your parents and forced to kiss and make up.

But then again… you were also the only one there when his pet turtle died. He went through four tissue boxes, wiping away tears over the early death of his beloved friend, Sheldon. You stood beside him in his backyard, both dressed in black, as he solemnly lowered the shoebox coffin into the soil. You played Auld Lang Syne on the recorder because Jake, with tears in his eyes and dirt under his fingernails, insisted it was what Sheldon “would have wanted.” 

And then there was that one time in algebra class when you got bored. You sat behind him in the class, and thought you’d try your hand at hairstyling…with actual scissors. He went home with a bald patch the size of a nickel and didn’t let you live it down. He cried. You laughed which obviously made him scream bloody murder. You only laughed harder. 

That night, instead of letting it go like a normal person, he stood by his bedroom window which was exactly three feet away from yours and started launching tiny pebbles at your glass. Every ten seconds. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

You tried to ignore it. Stuffed your head under a pillow. But by the twentieth pebble, you yanked your window open and glared at him across the narrow gap between your houses.

“God’s sake, Yun, it’s midnight.”

He didn’t even flinch. Just pointed dramatically at the back of his head like he was presenting a war wound. “I've bald patch because of you!” he whisper-shouted, so he wouldn’t get in trouble.

You felt bad. Only a little though. So you didn’t yell when he kept throwing pebbles until sunrise. You just stuffed your head under the pillow and endured it. Because that’s what Jake Sim was…an unavoidable constant. Just like those darn pebbles.

–

The two of you sat in your respective rooms, windows wide open. You were blasting your music loud enough for the bass to shake his desk lamp, and he didn't even complain. If anything, he hummed along.

Jake was sprawled in his desk chair, legs kicked up, pencil spinning between his fingers. “What’d you get for number six?” he called out.

You didn’t even look up. “I’m not gonna tell you.”

He scoffed. “Why the hell not?”

“Because you’re not gonna learn if I just give you the answer,” you replied, circling something on your worksheet just to look busy.

“Oh please, you get worse grades than I do.”

You whipped your head toward your window. “That was one time.”

“You mean multiple times, dumbass.” He leaned forward, smug. “Don’t make me pull out the receipts. Midterms, Chemistry quiz, that one math test you didn’t even finish—”

“Okay, okay, shut up,” you groaned, chucking an eraser in his general direction. It bounced off the wall beside his window and dropped harmlessly into the space between.

Jake grinned like he’d just won something. “You’re so aggressive. No wonder Jay won’t look at you.”

You froze.

“What is that supposed to fucking mean?”

“Oh, come on,” he said, unabashed. “You don’t think I notice the way you look at him? It’s painfully obvious.”

You scowled. “You’re such a dick.”

He smirked. “Relax. I know you like the back of my hand, Bun.”

Your eye twitched. “The nickname's getting old. Retire it”

“No, it's not. It's a national treasure.”

“I was six,” you snapped.

“And yet so confident. ‘Jaebun! Jaebun!’” He mimicked your childhood voice with alarming accuracy. 

You muttered, “Should’ve gone with dumbass instead.”

“Too late.” he said cheerfully.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Since you claim to know me so well, when’s my birthday?”

He didn’t even blink, answering you in less than a second.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “...Lucky guess.”

He leaned back in his chair, smug as ever. “Try me again.”

“What’s my favourite colour?”

“Trick question,” he said immediately. “You don’t have one. You once said colours were 'capitalist scams to sell more color pencils’”

You stared at him.

He shrugged. “I listen. Unfortunately.”

You grabbed a pen and pointed it at him like a threat. “Say ‘Bun’ again and I’m glueing your locker shut tomorrow.”

He only grinned wider. “Sure thing, Bun.”

–

Jake wasn’t wrong. You did perhaps have the tiniest crush on Jongseong and it wasn’t like you had crushes all the time. In fact, you barely had any. You were too busy…in your own little world. 

Besides, Jongseong was different. He was quiet but warm, always smiling. Sure, you didn’t really know him but you could, if only he ever looked in your direction.

But he didn’t. Well, not specifically at you. He was nice to everyone. That was part of his charm.

The thing was, Jongseong only seemed to date girls who were everything you weren’t. The kind who wore frilly dresses and tiny skirts, who always smelled like some kind of floral mist. The girls who sat with their ankles crossed and giggled behind their hands. The girls whose hair was always curled and upright. The ones who never cussed.

You, on the other hand, lived in Jake’s old hoodie, the one he tossed at you when you were shivering so you’d stop shaking the bed. You never gave it back, and he never asked.

You sat with one leg propped up. You swore like a sailor and forgot lip balm existed. Your lips peeled constantly, sometimes dotted with dried blood from the sheer lack of moisture.

Of course, there was nothing wrong with being girly…it just wasn’t you.

You so badly wanted to be.

But you didn’t think you could pull it off.

You weren’t that girl.

You were never going to be that girl.

Or… so you thought.

—

It happened on a Tuesday.

You and Jongseong had been assigned to the same bio project, which, for the record, you took as a cosmic sign that fate was finally giving you a win. He’d come over to ask you something and you’d tried to hold an actual conversation with him while pretending you weren’t breaking into a nervous sweat.

It was going well. You thought it was going well. You were almost funny.

And then it happened. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw it.

A girl, pretty, with soft makeup and a sundress, waved at him from the lockers. He glanced over. 

There was a flicker in his eyes. Something subtle. Something you couldn’t quite describe. But you caught it. Something you’d never been on the receiving end of.

He looked back at you and kept smiling. The same smile he gave the lunch lady. The janitor. It wasn’t attraction. It was…niceness. Jongseong was just being nice.

And for some reason, that wrecked you.

–

The lunch line crawled forward at a snail’s pace, the dull clatter of trays and scraping chairs echoing through the cafeteria. You stood still, half-slumped over your plastic tray, caught in the kind of daze that wasn’t sleepy so much as indifferent.

You stared blankly ahead, shoulders hunched. Your hoodie sleeves hung past your wrists, fingers tugging at the frayed edge while the smell of overcooked rice and some kind of mystery soup drifted around you. You barely noticed the guy who cut in front of you until his tray knocked against yours, loud and careless.

He didn’t look at you. Didn’t see you.

A hot senior. One of those boys who walked through life like it was a fuckin’ breeze and perhaps it was for him.

You sighed through your nose, small and bitter, eyes flicking instinctively to the other side of the cafeteria.

There he was.

Park Jongseong, laughing with his friends at their usual table by the windows. His perfect hair, his clean white shirt collar poking out of his sweater.

Why would someone like Jongseong ever court someone like you?

You dropped your gaze quickly, heat rising up your neck for no reason at all. Just in time for the cafeteria auntie to scoop a mound of fried noodles onto your tray.

You trudged toward your usual table, trying to hold the tray steady with numb fingers. Ni-ki and Sunoo were already seated, arguing about something stupid. Their voices bubbled in the background, warm and alive, but you barely heard them. You moved on autopilot.

And then your eyes wandered again.

A few tables down, Jake had his arms draped over the shoulders of some girl you didn’t recognize by name, but had definitely seen hovering around him during gym. Her nails were perfect. Hair curled. Really pretty.

Sunghoon said something, and their table erupted in laughter. Jake leaned in, grin sharp and stupidly attractive, fingers squeezing the girl’s shoulder like it was second nature. She turned her face toward his without missing a beat and kissed his cheek. Like she’d done it a hundred times.

You blinked.

Your grip on your fork tightened slightly.

Of course Mr. Resident Playboy was surrounded by affection, by attention, by options. While you sat here picking at your noodles, heart full of things you wouldn’t dare say out loud, mourning the simple, brutal truth:

You weren’t anybody’s type.

Not Jongseong’s.

Not anyone’s.

And definitely not Jake’s.

–

That night, you stood in front of your mirror, hoodie sleeves tugged over your palms, joggers slouching low on your hips. You weren’t sad, exactly. Just… tired. Of being invisible. Of blending into the background in every hallway. Of being the kind of person people looked through, never at.

Your gaze scanned your reflection. Slouched posture. That faint acne scar near your cheekbone. The uneven hair you barely brushed unless someone nagged you. There was nothing extraordinary about the person staring back. And yet, all you could think about was the way Jongseong had looked at her.

Not just looked…seen. That quiet, effortless kind of attention. Like she wasn’t just beautiful. She mattered. Like the world bent slightly in her direction just to be closer. You wanted that. 

So you did the unthinkable.

You unlocked your window and slid it open, the humid night air brushing your skin. The three-foot gap between your houses had always felt insignificant—just years of shared childhood, unfinished arguments, and mutual pranks. You leaned out, scanning the opposite window.

“Yun,” you called softly.

No answer.

You stared a little longer before scooping up a small pebble from the ledge and flicking it against his window with a soft click.

Still nothing.

Of course. He was probably gaming again, headset on, screaming profanities at preteens while Park Sunghoon made terrible jokes in the background. You groaned, fished out your phone, and tapped his name.

It rang once.

“What?” Jake answered, already sounding irritated.

You exhaled. “Open your damn window.”

He hung up.

You blinked at your screen, jaw slack. “Asshole,” you muttered, arms crossed as you stared at his dark window.

A full minute passed. Then, the curtains shifted and his window creaked open. Jake leaned out lazily, resting his forearms on the sill. His hair was messy, and he looked like he’d just rolled off his bed. “Sorry,” he said. “I was mid-shit.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. Of course. He always said things like that. Because he didn’t see you like that. You weren’t a girl in his eyes. Just you. And even if you didn’t like Jake like that, it still stung more than it should’ve.

Your fingers gripped your window ledge tighter.

“Yun,” you tried again, voice lower now, more vulnerable. “I need your help.”

Jake squinted across the narrow space between your windows, “Sup?”

You hovered near the edge of your bed, fingers curling into the blanket. The words clung to your throat like they didn’t want to be let out. “I, uh…”

He tilted his head, eyebrows pulling together. “You what?”

You looked away, suddenly regretting saying anything at all.

Jake let out a groan, dragging a hand down his face. “Dude. Just spit it out. You’re stressing me out.”

Your voice came out smaller than you intended. “I want you to teach me how to be a girl.”

He blinked before scoffing, “Stop fuckin’ around. I’m in a Fortnite lobby with Sunghoon. I don’t have time for this.”

“I’m not fucking around.” Your breath hitched slightly. You didn’t mean to sound dramatic, but you couldn’t help it.

Jake leaned farther out the window, his legs swinging carelessly over the edge as he peered at you like he was trying to read your face. “You’re insane.”

“How am I insane?”

“You’re already a…a girl.”

You crossed your arms. “Just ten minutes ago, you told me you took a big fat shit.”

“So? I always say that kind of stuff to you.”

“Exactly. Now, would you say that to the hot girls you’re trying to flirt with?”

“No, but that—”

“No,” you cut in sharply. “You wouldn’t. And that means…”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “That means what?”

“That means you don’t see me as a…” Your voice softened to a whisper. “Woman.”

Jake exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “Well, I clearly do now. You’re acting like you’re on your period.”

You grabbed a ping pong ball from your nightstand and lobbed it at his head. It bounced off his temple with a soft thwack.

“OW—?” he recoiled, rubbing the spot. “What the hell?”

“You practically asked for it,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Jake sighed, shifting to sit properly on his window ledge, feet dangling as he leaned his head against the frame. “Is this about… your crush on…uh…Jongseong?”

You said nothing. Just stared at your blanket.

Jake let out a low laugh. “It is, isn’t it? Why do you wanna change anyway? You're fine the way you are...just like this.”

"I don't wanna be just—"

"God, you are such a girl."

“If you’re gonna be an asshole about it, I’m—”

“You’re gonna what? Threaten me even though I know your biggest, darkest secret?”

You scoffed, arms tightening across your chest. “Fine. You win. Like always. You get the girls you want, the friends, the popularity. You get everything, Jaeyun.”

Jake let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, except it wasn’t. “You think I get what I want? You are sorely mistaken because–”

He paused. His eyes flicked to you. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something but he shut it just as fast and shook his head. “Doesn’t even matter.”

You didn’t press him. You figured it’d be something sarcastic or gross anyway.

“Yun…” You bit your lip. “You don’t know what it’s like. Knowing people don’t look at you the way you want them to. I don’t mind being invisible. I don’t mind being forgettable. But sometimes it just sucks. Watching people flirt with girls like they’re the only ones worth looking at. And I’m not. This is stupid but it’s just–”

“It’s really funny you think that way.” He said, laughing almost bitterly before he shook his head. 

The room fell into silence. Jake didn’t say anything for a while.

“Look, if I help you, will you shut up about this cringey bullshit?” He spoke again.

You looked up. A slow smile tugged at your lips. “You’ll help?”

Jake rolled his eyes. “I don’t even know why I’m the person you’re asking.”

“You’re the closest thing I have to a friend.”

He stilled.

And that, more than anything, made Jake stop and think.

–

Jake hated Wednesdays.

He hated the long hours, the after school academy his mom sends him to, the way the fluorescent lights in the academy made his eyes ache by the second hour. Everyone there moved like machines, quiet, efficient, terrifyingly focused. He didn’t know anyone, and no one cared to know him.Just equations and deadlines and that one girl who once cried during a physics mock.

But one thing made it bearable.

You.

Same academy, different class. Same hell, different schedule. But you always ended up outside the gates at exactly 9 p.m., when his last class ended.

He saw you before he felt the wind, your figure under the yellow glow of the streetlamp, head bowed, nose buried in a half-crumpled chemistry textbook. Your bag hung off one shoulder, your cardigan sleeves pushed up, revealing ink-stained wrists. You were walking slowly, lips moving like you were mouthing formulas, completely oblivious to the world around you.

Jake watched for a second, letting the cold bite his cheeks.

He adjusted his hoodie and jogged up to meet you, as he always did, no hello, no warning, just bumped your shoulder lightly with his.

You blinked up from your book, startled, “Jesus fu—Jaeyun. You scared me.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you wait for me up front?”

“I wanted to get the last hotteok before the shop closed,” you said, pointing ahead.

“Without me?”

“You always take your time, and I got lazy.” You rolled your eyes and snapped your book shut, fumbling to shove it back into your bag.

Jake scoffed, reaching over to grab the book from you. He slid it into your bag with ease. “What makes you think I didn’t want any?”

“I was gonna get you one and pass it to you through the window,” you muttered.

Jake grinned. “How sweet.”

 “Don’t push it.”

“Why the sudden generosity?” Jake asked, giving you a sideways glance as the two of you continued walking under the soft orange glow of the streetlights. The path curved through the park, quiet except for the faint rustle of leaves.

You hesitated. “Last night—” You swallowed hard. “I… I was in a rut. And I didn’t really mean for you to, you know, teach me how to be a girl. I think I was just...spiralling."

Jake didn’t say anything, but he slowed a little, turning just slightly toward you.

“You were right,” you went on, hugging your arms around yourself. “I am a girl. And I don’t have to… change who I am to be with Jongseong.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Glad you finally see it my way.”

“But…” You stopped walking, spinning to face him as you pointed a finger at his chest. “I do want to change my request.”

Jake groaned, head tipping back as he rolled his eyes. “What now?”

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, fingers fidgeting at the sleeves of your cardigan. The words got stuck in your throat. You looked anywhere but him, your shoes, the tree beside you, the flickering street lamp overhead.

“If you’re not gonna teach me how to be girlier…” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper, “could you at least teach me how to…”

There was a pause. Your hands made vague, awkward motions in the air. Jake just stood there, waiting, arms folded, eyebrow raised, looking far too amused.

“What?”

You looked up at him, cheeks burning. “Could you teach me how to… flirt?”

Jake blinked. “You want…me to teach you how to flirt?”

His voice cracked…barely, but enough to make your shoulders tense.

Then, slowly, his expression shifted. The corners of his mouth twitched. His brows lifted, eyes lighting up. You knew he was about to say something incredibly annoying.

“Oh.” He took a step closer, head tilted, grin spreading wide. “Oh. Flirting, huh…”

You immediately regretted speaking. “Don’t make it weird, Jake.”

“Too late,” he said, voice practically gleeful. “So do you call me Mr. Sim now? I have a small whiteboard at home. I could bring it over tomorrow. Maybe some flashcards—OW!”

You smacked his arm, sharp and fast. He flinched back, laughing as he rubbed the spot you hit.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered, spinning on your heel. Your pace picked up, arms crossed tight over your chest as your bag bounced against your side with each frustrated step.

Jake was still laughing behind you, low and amused. You could hear the gravel crunch under his sneakers as he jogged to catch up.

“Bun, come on,” he called, still breathless with laughter. “Don’t be like that. I’ll stop. I swear.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t even slow down.

Jake finally caught up, matching your stride as he nudged your arm with his elbow, more gentle this time. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it.”

You glanced at him, eyes narrowed. “Really?”

He nodded, gaze fixed ahead now, hands buried deep in his hoodie pockets. His grin was still there but a little softer, a little less smug.

“Yeah,” he said. “Why not.”

And though he kept smiling, though he bumped your shoulder again like everything was fine, something tugged quietly at the edge of his chest.

–

It was a Saturday afternoon, and Jake had insisted your “first official lesson” take place at a café just down the street from school.

You sat across from him at a window seat, fingers wrapped awkwardly around a lukewarm latte while Jake leaned back in his chair, legs spread, one arm slung casually across the backrest.

“Alright,” he said, tapping the side of his cup with a spoon. “First target locked. Look at that guy over there.”

You followed his nod toward a boy near the counter. He had dark hair that curled just slightly at the nape of his neck, a clean, sharp profile, and a navy windbreaker slung effortlessly over a white tee. He was scrolling through his phone, occasionally glancing toward the barista with a faint, almost unreadable smile. 

“Ooh, he’s kinda cute,” you murmured, straightening a little in your seat.

Jake blinked before shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. New target.”

“What? Why?” you frowned.

“He… he doesn’t seem nice,” Jake muttered, picking up his drink and deliberately looking away.

You squinted at him. “He seems totally nice. Mysterious, sure, but definitely polite.”

Jake scoffed under his breath. “You don’t know men.”

You rolled your eyes. “And you do?”

“I am one,” he snapped, scanning the room again like a snob. 

“You are? Didn’t notice.”

Jake frowned, ignoring your comment. A second later, he pointed toward a guy near the pastry shelf. “That guy.”

You followed his gaze again, but you were still stuck on the first one.

“…He’s not even cute,” you said flatly.

Jake didn’t look at you. “Exactly, so ask him out.”

“But he’s not even–”

He exhaled sharply through his nose and cut you off. “Look, we’re here to boost your confidence. It’s not gonna be a sure thing, so start small.”

“Fine,” you muttered, folding your arms. After a beat, you turned to him. “Do I look okay?”

Your hair was down for once, soft waves brushing just past your shoulders. You’d run a brush through it and tucked one side neatly behind your ear. Your skin had that subtle glow, not from makeup really, but from actually washing your face and maybe using that tinted sunscreen your friend, Sunoo, swore by.

That even Jake had done a double take when you opened the front door. He’d blinked, eyes flicking from your hair to your blouse like his brain couldn’t compute what he was seeing. 

EARLIER THAT DAY

Jake showed up five minutes early, as usual, slouching on your porch with his phone in hand. He didn’t bother knocking…he never had to. He was practically part of the house by now. The front door swung open before he could even reach for the handle. “Oh, Jaeyun,” your mom greeted with a knowing smile, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “You’re early today.” Jake grinned. “Just a little. Didn’t wanna get yelled at for being late.” She laughed and stepped aside to let him in. “She’s taking a bit long today. Not too sure why.” He kicked off his shoes and followed her into the entryway, glancing up the stairs. “It’s fine, I can wait.” Your mom raised an eyebrow at him, amused. “I mean…sure. But she usually doesn’t take this long. She’s been up getting ready for two hours.” Jake nearly choked. “Two hours?” Before your mom could answer, your voice floated from upstairs. “Is Jake here, Mom?” “Just arrived!” she called back. Jake leaned against the banister, still puzzled. He could hear your footsteps now. Then you appeared at the top of the stairs. He paused. Your hair was down. Like, fully down. He hadn’t seen that since you were twelve and you’d cut your own bangs in a bathroom mirror. It was longer now, softer, brushed neatly around your shoulders. You wore a pink blouse with tiny buttons and puffed sleeves, cinched just slightly at the waist. It hugged your frame in a way none of your hoodies ever had. Paired with a white skirt and sneakers that didn’t look like they’d survived through hell and back, for once, you looked… polished.  His heart stuttered. Jake cleared his throat, eyes trailing over you as you stepped down the stairs. “You look… different.” You froze mid-step, one foot hovering slightly above the next stair, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Different good? Different bad? God, I knew I shouldn’t have followed that stupid Pinterest board. It said ‘cute girl outfits’ and I just assumed—” “I didn’t even say—” “Oh my God, I do look stupid.” You looked down at yourself in dismay, tugging at the hem of your skirt. “God, Bun,” Jake muttered, already striding up the steps toward you. He reached out, exasperated but weirdly gentle, and slapped a hand over your mouth. “Let me fuckin' speak,” he said, voice low and a little too sincere for comfort. “You look good. Now shut up.” And his hand lingered for just a second too long before he seemed to realise what he was doing and stepped back.

PRESENT

His gaze dragged from your eyes to your mouth, then darted away too fast, like he’d been caught staring. “Yeah, you look fine” he said, nodding once, maybe a little too firmly.

You frowned. “Are you sure?”

Digging into your pocket, you pulled out a tube of gloss and held it up. “Do I need more lip gloss? I saw this TikTok? Apparently these are, like, really in right now.”

You leaned toward the window as you dabbed it on, lips pressing together with a soft smack. Then you turned back to him. “Better?”

Jake swallowed. His jaw twitched.

He turned back toward the window a beat too quickly, pretending to scan the crowd like he hadn’t heard you. “Yeah,” he muttered, voice dipping low. “You look fine.”

“Is that the only thing you can say?”

He groaned. “What the hell do you want me to say?”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. So what do I do now, Mr. Sim?”

He cleared his throat, straightening up. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping just a notch as he shifted gears.

“Well… one thing about guys is that they’re simple. They like to be complimented.”

You raised a brow. “Are they dogs?”

“Not gonna lie, they tend to be,” Jake snorted. “Anyway, since your hair’s already down… you could just—”

His hand moved before your brain could catch up. Fingers brushing lightly behind your ear as he tucked a loose strand of hair back.

Your breath caught.

He didn’t pull away immediately, just hovered there, close enough that you could smell the faint, clean scent of his cologne. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, unreadable for half a second.

“Then,” he said, voice lower now, “just flick your hair over your shoulder when you laugh. It’ll drive him crazy. Trust me.”

You swallowed, nodding slowly. “Okay. I can do that.”

Jake stepped back, giving a short, almost nervous laugh. “Alright. Let’s have a test run. Show me the flick. Let’s see if you’re ready.”

You blinked. “Now?”

“Yes now,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Flip your hair. Then bat your eyelashes. Slowly.”

You gave him a long look. Then, trying to copy the motion, you awkwardly tossed your hair over your shoulder and blinked up at him, slightly exaggerated and incredibly mechanical.

Jake choked on his own breath. 

You gasped and smacked his arm. “Don’t be a fucking prick!”

“I didn’t even say anything!” he protested before bursting into laughter.

“You didn't have to!”

“It's not my fault you looked insane!”

“You told me to flip my hair and bat my lashes!”

“Yeah, I told you to do it normally. I didn’t tell you to give me crazy eyes.”

You crossed your arms, shoulders slumping. “I can’t do this. This is stupid.”

“Yes, you can,” Jake said firmly. “Now look at me. Try it again.”

You sighed, took a breath then did it.

Your fingers swept through your hair, flicking it over your shoulder in one fluid motion. You glanced up at him, wide-eyed, lashes fluttering with just enough hesitation to make it feel real. Your lips parted slightly, soft with a natural pout. And the soft blush on your cheeks—God. It made you look so much cuter than he was prepared for.

Jake’s breath caught in his throat. He didn't move. Didn't say a single thing.

Because somehow, in the middle of this dumb pretend flirting lesson, you’d accidentally knocked the wind out of him.

And you had no idea.

His mouth opened slightly but nothing came out. His heart stammered in his chest like it forgot how to beat properly. Fuck. You looked good doing whatever the hell that was.

Then you sighed. “Ugh. I looked ridiculous again, didn’t I? God, I’m such a mess—”

“No!” he blurted out, way too loud, making both of you jump. “You looked… fine. I think you’re ready.”

His voice cracked at the end. He turned his head like it would somehow hide it.

But it didn’t.

You didn’t seem to notice. Or if you did, you didn’t say anything.

“But… what do I even say to him?” you asked, your voice softer now, uncertain.

Jake cleared his throat, grounding himself. Right. This lesson wasn’t for him. It was for you. For Jongseong.

“Keep it simple,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets to keep them steady. “Ask what he’s drinking. Compliment his shirt. Make eye contact. Smile. Then ask for his number.”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“Guys don’t need a Shakespearean monologue,” he added with a dry chuckle. “Just give them a reason to look twice.”

You took a deep breath and repeated to yourself, “Okay… I can do this. I can do this.”

Jake grinned, tossing back the rest of his drink like it was a toast. “You can. Knock ’em dead.”

You wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans again. Useless. Your hands were still clammy, and your heart felt like it was sprinting laps in your chest.

You glared at him. “If I embarrass myself, I’m blaming you.”

“Can’t embarrass what’s already rock bottom,” he grinned.

You flipped him off but your legs still carried you across the café. You passed the actually cute guy Jake had vetoed and kept walking until you reached the guy Jake had actually pointed out.

He was okay. Not ugly, but his hair was gelled too flat, and his shirt had some ironic graphic that made you wince. He was tapping loudly on his phone, chewing gum. Still, he had decent shoulders. That was something.

You cleared your throat. “Hey.”

He looked up, blinked once like he was trying to figure out if he knew you,. “Hey.”

You gestured to his drink. “Is that the cold brew? I was gonna get one, but I panicked and got a hot chocolate instead.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Cold brew’s not bad. Keeps me awake for my 8ams, y’know?”

You forced a smile. “I’m the same way! I'm a totally different person without my morning coffee.”

He laughed. Good. Good. Great! Until it wasn't.

You flicked your hair back like Jake told you to, trying to make it look natural. It didn’t.

"What are you...doing?"

You immediately stopped, dropping your hands to your sides. Straightening up.

Then, before you could stop yourself, you added with what you thought was a flirty smile, “I love your elbows! They’re so…uh…pointy.”

The guy blinked. “Sorry—what?”

You laughed before panicking a little, “Like if you were ever robbed, you could probably stab the robber with your elbow.”

He was staring now, straw paused at his lips. “Uh–thanks?”

“Anyway!” you blurted. “I should—uh—my friend’s waiting. Bye.”

You turned and speed-walked back to your table. The moment you reached Jake, you crash-landed into the booth, practically throwing yourself onto his chest to hide your face.

Jake raised an eyebrow, then completely lost it, laughter spilling out before he gently pulled you closer, one hand sliding into your hair, the other resting lightly between your shoulder blades.

“Sim Jaeyun, I will kill you.” You lifted your head just enough to glare at him, your cheek still pressed against his chest.

He didn’t flinch. Just chuckled and eased you right back into him, his hand still idly moving through your hair. You could feel his laugh rumble beneath your cheek.

“It’s not my fault you couldn’t follow one simple instruction,” he wheezed, voice light. “Flick hair. Speak words. That’s it.”

“He was clearly not interested,” you muttered, sitting up and crossing your arms.

Jake shrugged, finally catching his breath. “Then he probably doesn’t have good taste.”

You paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked at you, blinking. “I mean—come on. You’re a total ten. And he’s like… a five. At best.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Did you just… call me a ten?”

“Y–yeah,” Jake said quickly, already regretting it. “On the insane scale.” He winced slightly, like even he knew that didn’t make any real sense.

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm, “Can’t I just talk to the cute guy?”

Jake let out a sharp laugh, drumming his fingers against his cup. “You couldn’t even string a sentence together for that guy, and now you wanna shoot your shot with the hot one?”

You leaned back against the booth with a dramatic sigh, one arm flung across the backrest. “If I’m gonna die of embarrassment, I’d rather die pretty.”

Jake snorted. “You’re gonna die delusional.”

You turned to him, eyes narrowing with playful challenge. “Okay, then how about I practice on you?”

He blinked. “What?”

“I can’t practice on a hot guy. Too risky. And I already humiliated myself in front of the other one. So now I’m left with you.” You shrugged, like it was the most logical conclusion in the world. “Let me just see how it feels to flirt with someone I’m already comfortable with.”

Jake blinked again, visibly thrown. “And you think I’m the guy for that?”

“Yes,” you said, matter-of-factly. “Just treat me like one of those girls you’re always trying to impress.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You pouted, lips pulling into a dramatic curve. “Am I not your type?”

Jake opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

“No. I didn’t say that.”

“Then what is it?” you challenged. “Why can’t I just practice on you?”

“Fine! Fine—just shut up for a second.” His voice was low, tight before covering your mouth with his palm to shut you up. “Or… we could get Sunghoon to help.”

You froze, eyes narrowing against his palm.

“Fungfoon?” you repeated through his hand.

He removed it slowly.

“You mean that trash ass frat boy who can’t shut up for more than thirty seconds?”

Jake narrowed his eyes right back. “Sunghoon’s my best friend.”

“I don’t care?”

Not even ten minutes later, Sunghoon strolled into the café, hoodie sleeves half-rolled, a lollipop tucked between his lips. You gave him a slow side-eye as he approached your table.

It wasn’t that you hated Sunghoon. But the two of you bickered like a divorced couple whenever you were together. Maybe it was your clashing playstyles when you gamed together, he was a reckless, charge-in-without-a-plan kind of guy, and you were more methodical, strategic. Or maybe it was just the fact that if Jake wasn’t hanging out with him, he was with you and well, Sunghoon could be… territorial.

He dropped into the seat beside Jake, legs wide, completely unbothered. “Alright. What is this even about? Why am I here to help the Devil herself?”

“Reason isn’t important but,” Jake muttered, not even looking up from his drink. “We just need you to pretend you’re some guy she’s trying to flirt with.”

Sunghoon pulled the lollipop from his mouth, brows raised. “Ew. Why would I flirt with her?”

You scoffed. “Don’t be flattered. You were my last choice.”

He grinned. “Still made the cut though.”

You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath, straightening your posture. Okay. Practice round. You could do this.

You turned to face him, smile soft, lashes lowered just a little. “Hey,” you said, voice dipped slightly lower. “You look kinda familiar…”

Sunghoon smirked, playing along, finally meeting your eyes after ignoring you the whole minute he arrived. “Oh yeah? From where?”

You flicked your hair back, just like Jake told you to, letting it fall behind your shoulder.

And that’s when it happened.

Sunghoon blinked. His entire body paused for a beat like his brain lagged for half a second before catching up. He stared at you, eyes trailing from your mouth to your collarbone, then back up again.

There was a few seconds of silence before...

“Dude,” Sunghoon muttered, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at you again. “Did you do something to your hair? You look really good today.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying,” he said, leaning in a little, arms folded casually on the table. His tone wasn’t exactly flirty, more like intrigued. “You look different. In a good way.”

Your brain went completely silent.

Not because it was flattering. But because it was Sunghoon.

“Are you calling me—”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I’m calling you pretty. I can’t believe I’m saying it either.”

You gawked at him. Mouth slightly open. Sunghoon looked at you like he was analysing a glitch in the matrix, brows furrowed, eyes scanning your face.

“Ew,” you said automatically, scrunching your nose. “I can’t believe you’d call me—wait. Hold on. I am?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, almost like he was confirming it for himself. “Totally. You’re just, like, glowing or whatever.”

“Well…” You sat up straighter. “I put on mascara. And some lip gloss.”

He was seeing you as a girl. Like...a girl girl. Not Jake’s best friend. Not the rando he was forced to game with when the squad was short one player.

You straightened slowly, crossing one leg over the other with a little more sway than necessary, letting your hair fall over one shoulder like a curtain. You tilted your head, gaze playful. “Well… maybe you’re just slow at noticing things.”

Sunghoon’s grin curled, his eyes dipped, lingering, and his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip. “Or maybe you’ve been hiding that pretty face on purpose.”

You leaned in, elbows resting on the table, chin propped on your hand as your voice dropped to a murmur. “Or maybe you just never looked close enough.”

That did it. Sunghoon's posture straightened almost reflexively, and for half a second, he was visibly flustered, eyes flicking down again before darting back up to meet yours.

Across the table, Jake cleared his throat.

You didn’t even turn to look at him.

Jake slammed his hand on the table, not hard, but enough to rattle your water glass. “Alright. Lesson’s over.”

Sunghoon blinked. “What—why?”

Jake stood up, his jaw tight. “We’re done. Congrats. She flirts well. You’re dismissed.”

Sunghoon raised both brows. “I just got here.”

“You’re just back up, Hoon. She’s not actually trying to date you, dumbass.”

“But we so totally could though.” Sunghoon looked back at you, winking.

“Okay, we’re done here.” Jake stood up suddenly and grabbed Sunghoon by the arm. “Let’s go. Your turn’s over.”

“Chill,” Sunghoon said, laughing. “You jealous or something?”

Jake didn’t answer. Just pushed the door open and muttered, “Thanks for your service. You helped a ton.”

—

Yes. Okay, fine. Yes! Jake liked you.

He hated admitting it. Hated even thinking it.

But he did. He liked you.

The only person who knew? His mom. Or maybe Layla, his dog—if she actually understood English.

He’d liked you since the day you stood in his backyard, dressed in black, playing Auld Lang Syne on the recorder for his dead turtle. RIP Sheldon. You’re still missed.

But Jake was an idiot. As most boys are.

Somewhere along the way, his dumb boy brain decided the only logical way to get your attention was through relentless teasing and it stuck. It became a habit. Your thing.

Because, obviously, nothing says I like you like public humiliation.

Jake liked you with your hair up in that lazy bun you always wore. He liked you with it down, falling in soft, messy waves around your shoulders. He liked you when you were yelling profanities into your headset, and he liked you when you were quiet in your room, curled up with your knees to your chest, scribbling in that little diary you thought no one knew about.

He liked you when you were laughing so hard you snorted. And he liked you when you were trying to hide your smile behind your hand.

He never really understood why you wanted to change.

To him, you were already enough. You weren’t “boyish.” You weren’t “too girly.” You were just you. And to Jake, you had always been the point.

What mattered wasn’t how you looked. What mattered was that you were there.

So when he found out you liked Jongseong, he couldn’t even breathe for a second. It felt like ten million trains had flattened him right where he stood. But when he realised you didn’t just like him you were willing to change for him?

That broke something deep.

Because it meant you liked Jongseong enough to become someone else.

And Jake… Jake never wanted that.

But he had pride. Stupid, gnawing, heavy pride. And what made it worse, what buried the knife deeper, was knowing you’d never look at him that way.

Not the way you looked at Jongseong.

Not the way he looked at you.

Jake remembered one of his most recent so-called flings if you could even call them that.

To you, he was the local fuckboy. The guy who always had someone new to flirt with. You’d rolled your eyes every time he winked at someone, and he’d leaned into the reputation like it was armor.

But the truth was far messier.

Because somehow, the girls he messed around with… they always ended up knowing about you.

The last one, her name was Hyejin or maybe Hyerim, he couldn’t remember anymore, she ended up sitting next to him in her tiny apartment while he nursed a soda he didn’t want and tried not to cry.

“I just don’t get it,” he’d admitted, voice cracking a little. “I don’t know how to tell her I like her. And it’d be weird, right? If I suddenly just… said it?”

She’d looked at him, mascara slightly smudged from a long day, and tilted her head with a sigh. “Jake, you just have to be honest.”

He laughed at the time. “I can’t even be honest with myself.”

Jake swore there was nothing more humiliating than crying in front of a girl who he’d once tried to flirt with, only to have her comfort him about another girl entirely.

Worse than that?

She hugged him. Gave him her leftover tiramisu. And said, “I think she already knows. She just doesn’t know that you know.”

Jake sighed and leaned his forearm against the windowsill, the cool wood pressing into his skin as he looked across the short distance between your rooms. Your window was open again, curtains pulled halfway back.

You were lying on your stomach, half-buried in pillows, legs bent at the knees and swinging lazily in the air. Your phone was cradled in both hands, and every few seconds your shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Jake told himself he wasn’t watching. Just glancing.

He liked when your curtains were open. Not because he was trying to spy. It was more like… habit. You were always there, in that same spot, doing something normal and unbothered. Sometimes reading. Sometimes chewing on your pen while you worked. Sometimes yelling at your screen when your game crashed. He liked those quiet glimpses, the small, domestic pieces of you when you thought no one was watching.

From across the window, he could hear your soft giggle through the open night air.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” he called out from his side of the room, voice echoing slightly against the concrete walls outside.

You turned your head, chin resting on your wrist. “It’s just... nothing.” Your lips curled again as you looked back at your screen.

Jake smiled, just a little, then pushed off the sill and crossed the room. His headset was still hanging from the corner of his chair. He grabbed it, sank down into the seat, and slid it over his ears.

“Hey, I’m back,” he muttered into the mic.

There was a short pause. “Hold on,” came Sunghoon’s voice. “I’m in the middle of something.”

Jake reached for his mouse, nodding to himself. “Kay.”

And then he heard it.

A soft, unmistakable ding echoed faintly from the room across the way. He turned his head slightly, just enough to catch you laughing again. Your fingers moved quickly over your phone screen.

“Okay, I’m back,” Sunghoon said a few seconds later. He sounded amused.

Jake narrowed his eyes.

Another burst of laughter from your room. Another ding from Sunghoon’s mic. Then more quiet typing from your end. Another ping. Another laugh from Sunghoon.

Jake blinked at the screen in front of him. His hand was still resting on his mouse, unmoving.

Then he looked back out the window.

You were biting your bottom lip now, trying to suppress another laugh as you stared at your phone. Your shoulders were trembling again. You kicked your feet once, as if you couldn’t contain the energy anymore.

Sunghoon chuckled again in Jake’s ear.

The realization settled in slowly.

You were texting.

And not just texting anyone.

You were texting Sunghoon.

Jake leaned back in his chair, headset still snug over his ears, eyes locked on the warm glow pouring from your bedroom window. A breeze moved through the gap, rustling your curtain just enough for him to see your face again. You were smiling at your phone, soft and lit up in a way that made something in his chest tighten.

His grip on the mouse went slack.

“Are you texting her?” he asked, voice flat, low.

There was a pause on the other end of the mic.

“What? Who?” Sunghoon replied, feigning clueless.

Jake narrowed his eyes, staring now, not at his screen, but out the window, straight at you as your fingers danced over your phone screen. Another muffled laugh echoed through your open window.

“I can hear the two of you giggling like idiots,” Jake said.

Sunghoon let out a short laugh, not bothering to deny it. “Dude, what’s the matter with you? I can’t text her now?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Sunghoon replied. “You’ve been weird since the café. She looked cute today. I’m trying to shoot my shot.”

Jake sat up straighter, jaw tightening. “On my friend?”

There was a pause.

“Relax,” Sunghoon said, tone still light. “We’re just talking. Harmless flirting. Nothing disastrous. She knows me. She knows how I am.”

Jake didn’t answer.

His eyes drifted back to the window. You were still there, head bowed over your phone, smiling again at something that didn’t come from him.

“Whatever, man. I gotta go,” Jake muttered.

“What? We haven’t even played—”

“I forgot I had some homework to do.”

Before Sunghoon could reply, Jake clicked off. The headset hit the desk with a dull thud.

He stood quickly, crossed the room in a few long strides, yanked open his window, and grabbed the nearest thing on his desk…a ping pong ball. The very ping pong ball you threw at his head.

He tossed it with perfect aim.

It bounced cleanly off your forehead.

“OW—what the hell!” you yelped, looking up in disbelief, hand flying to your temple.

Jake leaned halfway out the window, one brow raised. “So now we know how that feels.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What was that for?”

“Stop texting Sunghoon.”

You sat up straighter. “What? Why? And how did you even know—”

“I could hear the gross, synchronized giggling. Cut it out.”

You crossed your arms, scowling. “You’re the one who told me I needed more confidence.”

“And you chose him?”

You rolled your eyes. “Come on. It’s not like he’d get hurt. I know how he is. He knows it’s just practice.”

Jake shook his head. “No. Not Sunghoon.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You were literally the one who told me to practice on him.”

“I take it back.”

“What?! We were finally getting into good banter and shit. Why are you—”

“You either stop texting him,” Jake said, voice dropping lower, “or I tell Jongseong your stupid secret.”

Your mouth fell open. “What?! Why would you—what does that even have to do with anything?!”

Jake didn’t answer.

But his grip on the windowsill had tightened, knuckles pale under the streetlight glow, and his eyes didn’t leave yours for even a second.

“JUST STOP TEXTING HIM!”

–

The next day at school, Jake dragged himself through the crowded hallway, feet scuffing against the linoleum. His eyes were heavy with sleep he never got. Every time he closed them the night before, his brain had decided to play out an imaginary scenario where you and Sunghoon were holding hands in the cafeteria or kissing in front of the gym lockers.

It was enough to make him gag. If that ever actually happened, he was pretty sure he’d launch himself off the nearest cliff without hesitation.

He adjusted the strap of his backpack and yawned, turning the corner...

A hand tugged on his arm.

He blinked, looked down, and there you were. Standing in front of him with your brows knit together, that expression you always wore when you were trying to pretend you weren’t nervous.

“Bun?” he mumbled, still half-asleep.

You let out a breath. “Look… I’m sorry for not telling you I texted Sunghoon yesterday.”

Jake shook his head. “I wasn’t mad because you didn’t tell me.”

“Then why were you—”

“It’s nothing,” he cut in, voice low. He glanced down at his shoes.

You tilted your head. “Didn’t seem like nothing. You were yelling, dry heaving, and threw a ping pong ball at my head.”

Jake gave a short scoff. “You threw one at me last week, so I don’t see why we’re keeping score.”

You smiled. “Touché.”

There was a moment of quiet between you, the hallway noise fading under the weight of whatever you were about to say. You rocked on your heels.

“So…” you started. “Promise you’re not gonna get mad at me?”

He looked at you suspiciously. “What?”

“Just—promise.”

Jake exhaled. “Fine. What?”

You hesitated for only a second. “Sunghoon asked me out.”

Jake stopped walking.

For a moment, it felt like the hallway went silent around him, like the crowd and noise and lockers all blurred into nothing. He couldn’t feel the weight of his bag anymore. Couldn’t hear the scrape of sneakers or the slam of doors down the corridor.

And then one very clear thought.

He was going to kill Park Sunghoon.

“I said no.”

His head snapped toward you. “Wait—what?”

You shrugged, casual, like you hadn’t just pulled him out of the depths of hell. “I said no.”

A slow smile crawled its way onto his face before he could stop it. Then another feeling hit, bright and stupid and way too much for a school hallway. He wanted to do a triple backflip. He wanted to grab your face and kiss you right there between rows of lockers. He wanted to sing something obnoxious and dramatic and completely out of character. Maybe dance in the rain. 

“Why would I?” you said, nudging his arm, eyes still fixed ahead. “Jongseong’s the end game.”

And just like that, Jake wanted to go back to murdering.

“Of course, he is,” he said with a hollow laugh. He nodded, then mockingly clapped his hands together once, sharp and sarcastic. His smile dropped almost instantly, and he turned his face away before you could see the frown taking over.

He felt like biting his own arm off.

Then he looked back at you. “Right. I forgot this was all for that… Jay guy.”

You tilted your head, thinking. “Well… to be honest, I don’t really know him. But he seems sweet. From the times we’ve talked. And the group project. He’s… nice.”

Jake hated how gently you said it.

And the worst part? Jay was sweet. He was the kind of guy who held doors open without being weird about it. The kind who sent the group notes without being asked. He always smiled. Always remembered birthdays. He was, objectively, everything a girl like you deserved.

Jake knew that.

But he didn’t want to admit it.

Because you were his. At least in the world that existed in his head. You were his gamer buddy. His childhood friend. You weren’t supposed to look at other guys like that. God, he wanted you to look at him like that.

He clenched his fists inside his hoodie pocket.

He wanted to stomp his feet like a toddler and let out a big, ugly cry.

But unfortunately, that was not considered appropriate school behavior.

You didn’t notice the way he looked at you. Or maybe you did, and you just didn’t want to deal with it. Either way, you were still rambling.

“I dunno. I mean… I guess I just wanna see where it could go if he ever, like, noticed me or something.” You scratched your neck, glancing at the floor. “Not that he would. He’s… Jongseong.”

Jake didn’t say anything.

You sighed. “I’m probably just kidding myself. I’m not really the type guys go for, you know?”

“You ever think maybe it’s not you?” He looked at you. “Maybe they’re just dumb.”

Something about the way he said it stuck. 

Jake glanced away before walking toward his locker.

You didn’t know what to say.

So you didn’t say anything.

But hours later, long after the hallway cleared out, after you were alone in your room, that sentence would come back again and again.

“Maybe they’re just dumb.”

And maybe Jake Sim wasn’t dumb.

But why would he ever see you that way?

You were the girl who screamed into her headset. Who wore the same hoodie three days in a row. Who got mistaken for a guy in Discord chats more often than not.

You shook your head and turned back to your phone, forcing yourself to scroll. Still, that voice stayed in the back of your mind.

And the way he looked at you when he said it.

–

It was time for lesson number two. You were back in the corner booth, your half-melted drink leaving a wet ring on the napkin beneath it. Jake sat across from you, lounging like he owned the place. One arm stretched over the back of the seat, his iced latte in the other, rings of condensation slipping down the sides of the cup.

He was watching you. That look again. The one that made it impossible to tell if he was amused or genuinely disappointed in you.

"This is the third guy that you’ve chickened out on. You’re not going to get better if you keep coming back after saying a simple hi," he said, nodding toward some guy seated near the counter. "Go talk to him. For real, this time."

You frowned. "I can’t. I freeze up and start to sweat."

Jake sighed and set his drink down. "Fine. Do it on me then."

You blinked. "What?"

"Practice. On me," he repeated, now leaning forward, his arms resting on the table. "Pretend I’m some guy you want to impress."

You stared at him. "You’re serious?"

"And you're stalling."

You turned your body toward him with a quiet sigh. "Okay. Fine."

"Go ahead," Jake said, his voice lower now, patient. He watched you with an unreadable look, the corner of his mouth still curved.

You tried. You really did.

Jake raised an eyebrow, pretending to be charmed. “Wow. Off to a strong start.”

You scowled. “Shut up, I’m trying.”

He smiled wider, amused. “No, no. Please. Continue. This is wildly entertaining.”

You gestured at his chest. “It looks… soft?”

Jake blinked, then burst into laughter. “Soft?”

“I meant—like. The material? It looks comfortable. On you.” You cringed. “Forget it.”

Jake leaned in, voice smooth like honey. “You want to touch it? That what you're trying to say, sweetheart?”

You made a strangled noise. “That’s not—”

He gently reached forward, fixing the way your fingers fidgeted with your sleeve.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Jake was already moving. He shifted closer on the bench, slow and smooth, until his knee touched yours under the table. One hand reached out and found your waist. His fingers slid just beneath the hem of your shirt, warm and steady.

"Also, a tip, if you will, from your ever so generous teacher, this," he said, "is the kind of touch that makes someone lean in."

His thumb brushed lightly against your side. His hand didn’t move much, but it didn’t need to. It rested there like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like he was measuring your reaction.

And he was close now. Too close. You could see the way his lashes curled slightly at the tips. You could smell the quiet scent of his cologne, something clean and a little sharp, like cedar and mint. It wrapped around you in a way that made the entire café blur.

Your heartbeat quickened.

You hated that it did.

You laughed, a little too fast, wondering why your heart was feeling a certain way. "Okay. Great. Lesson learned. Thank you, Mr. Sim. I mean—Jae. Jake. Jaeyun. Jake."

Jake smirked and leaned back, finally letting his hand fall away. “Cat got your tongue?” he asked, laughing.

It really did.

How devoid of men were you, seriously?

It had to be that. The fact that you’d been so completely off the radar of all male existence for the past… forever. That had to be the reason your heart skipped when he tucked your hair back. Or the reason your brain short-circuited when he looked at you a little too long.

It definitely wasn’t because you saw Jake that way.

Right?

—

Jake spotted the two of you from halfway across the hallway.

You were leaning against the row of lockers outside the atrium, one leg slightly bent, head tipped back as you laughed. Sunghoon stood in front of you, arms crossed but posture relaxed, that stupid smirk already creeping onto his face.

Jake knew that smile. It was the one Sunghoon always used when he was trying to be smooth. The kind of half-smile he used when he was talking to a girl he wanted to take out or maybe just get a reaction from. He looked confident. 

You giggled again and nudged Sunghoon’s arm, your fingers brushing lightly against his jacket sleeve. Jake’s stomach turned. That move. The casual touch. The lean-in. All of it. You were doing exactly what he taught you. The timing, the tone, the touch.

He felt heat rising in his chest, tension winding up his spine like someone had pulled a cord tight. His hands curled into fists inside his hoodie pockets.

He walked straight up to them.

“Hey,” Jake said, voice low but even.

You turned to him immediately, eyes lighting up. “Hey,” you said, beaming like nothing was wrong. Like your heart hadn’t just flipped for someone else. You had no idea how you looked right then.

“Can I talk to Hoon alone for a second?”

You glanced between them and nodded. “Sure. I need to pee anyway,” you said, swinging your bag over your shoulder before heading off down the hallway.

Jake watched you disappear, then turned to Sunghoon.

“Walk.”

He grabbed his friend by the sleeve and pulled him along. Past the lockers. Past the noisy vending machines. Past the drama kids yelling in the corridor. He didn’t stop until they were behind the stairwell, tucked into the shadowy corner where the lights flickered overhead.

He looked at Sunghoon, really looked. “I need you to stop flirting with her.”

Sunghoon blinked like he didn’t hear him right. “What?”

Jake squared his shoulders. “I need you to stop. Whatever it is you’re doing. The flirting. The teasing. All of it.”

“What? Why?” Sunghoon asked, brows furrowing. “We’re just talking. She’s fun.”

Jake’s jaw clenched. “She’s not just some girl to mess with. She’s not like the others. She’s my friend.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Didn’t you say last month she was like a pet chihuahua?”

Jake faltered for a second. “That was before,” he said quickly.

“I know you, Sunghoon. I know how you are with girls. You don’t mean to hurt them, but you do. You get bored. You move on. And I can’t watch that happen to her.”

Sunghoon gave a half-laugh, but it was dry. “Dude. Relax.”

“I won’t relax,” Jake snapped. His voice was sharp enough to echo faintly off the concrete. “Not about this. Not about her.”

Sunghoon finally went quiet. He studied Jake’s face, expression shifting from surprise to something slower. More serious.

“Why are you this worked up?” he asked.

“You’re my best friend,” Jake added, voice quieter now. “You know I love you, but I can’t do this if it means watching you screw around with someone who means this much to me.”

Then…something clicked.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened, just a little.

“Wait,” he said. “Do you actually like her?”

“Just. Please,” Jake said. “Don’t say it.”

—

You didn’t expect him to notice. Not really.

You’d just started wearing your hair a little differently. Put on some gloss.

So when Jongseong stopped you outside school, hand rubbing the back of his neck and his eyes holding that familiar mix of shyness and charm, your heart should’ve jumped.

But it didn’t.

“I was wondering if you wanted to maybe get coffee sometime? Just us?”

You blinked. And blinked again.

This was supposed to be it. The goal. The moment. The reason you spent hours flicking your hair over your shoulder like an idiot while Jake made fun of you.

But all you could think about was… Jake. Sim Fucking Jaeyun.

“I…” You looked up at Jongseong. Kind eyes. Good guy. Someone you used to swear you wanted. “I really appreciate it, Jongseong. I do. But… I think I’m going to pass.”

His smile faltered, just for a second. Then he nodded slowly. “No worries. Thanks for being honest.”

You gave him one more grateful smile and watched as he walked off, disappearing into the crowd.

And then you stood there.

Why the fuck am I thinking about Jake right now?

It was Wednesday. You’d just spent the last three hours at the academy doing absolutely nothing productive unless you counted emotionally spiralling in the corner seat while pretending to highlight your notes.

All you could think about was how it would’ve felt if Jake had been the one to ask you out.

Would you have said yes?

Would you have kissed him right there?

Would you have blacked out and screamed in his face?

You had fallen for Jake.

Oh fuck.

You groaned into your hands and started walking home, trying to mentally scrub the thoughts from your brain. But just as you passed under the flickering streetlamp by the park…

“BUN!”

You screamed. 

Jake doubled over laughing behind you. “What the—?!”

You spun around, nearly flinging your textbook at him. “JAKE WHAT THE HELL!”

He was wheezing. “You scream like that for me? You’re dramatic as hell.”

You clutched your chest, heart going a million beats per second, not just from the scare.

Jake walked over casually, reaching for your textbook. “Give me that, your bag’s wide open—”

“DON’T TOUCH IT!”

You screamed again, stumbling back like he was radioactive.

Jake screamed back, instinctively jumping a full step away. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” you yelled, then immediately spun on your heel. “I HAVE—A LOT OF HOMEWORK!”

“What—?”

But you were already speed-walking away, hair flying behind you as you left Jake stunned in the middle of the path.

By the time you slammed your front door behind you and collapsed onto your bed, you were in full mid-life crisis mode. Rolling back and forth, groaning into your pillow, muttering, “It’s Jake. Oh my god it’s Jake. I like JAKE.”

You were still flailing when you heard a voice.

“You call this homework?”

You froze.

Your head shot toward your window.

There he was. Jake. Standing in his room, staring at you through your open window with a raised brow.

Fuck. You forgot to close it.

You cleared your throat and sat up like a malfunctioning robot. “Gotta… prep. For homework.”

Jake squinted. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting weird.”

You nodded a little too fast. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“…Okay.” He cleared his throat, clearly unconvinced. “Anyway. I was thinking for tomorrow’s lesson—”

“I don’t need them anymore.”

Jake paused. “Huh?”

You swallowed. “I don’t need the lessons. I’m good. I’m… fine. I don’t need to flirt. Or anything. Anymore.”

Jake stared at you from across the gap, mouth parting like he wanted to say something—but then it closed again.

“…You—”

“Jongseong asked me out today,” you blurted.

Jake went still, “Oh.”

It came out quiet. Just a hum. Then his eyes dropped to his feet. “So that’s why you don’t need the lessons anymore.”

“No!” you said quickly, maybe too quickly. “Not entirely.”

Silence fell between you, stretched across the space between your open windows. Both your hearts were racing, but for completely different reasons.

Yours…because it hit you again, hard and sharp: you had fallen for the guy who once smacked you in the face with a ping pong ball. The guy who threw pebbles at your window until you opened your window just to yell at him.

His…because you’d done it. You got Jongseong. The lessons worked. You didn’t need him anymore. You’d won.

So why did it feel like losing?

Thoughts ran rampant, words stuck in throats. The silence said too much.

“I—” you both said at once.

“You first.” Again, in unison.

“Okay, I’ll go,” you said, clearing your throat. “I said no.”

Jake blinked. “To Jay?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He looked at you, brows furrowed. “The lessons… the whole thing… I don’t get it. Why’d you say no?”

“He asked me out. And I didn’t feel the way I thought I would. It didn’t hit. I didn’t want him to ask me out anymore.”

Jake’s gaze lingered on your face, “Are you okay?”

God. Even now. Even like this. Stupid Jake. Always worried about you.

You nodded. “I’m fine. I just… figured I wanted something else.”

Jake looked down again. “Oh.”

“I wanted…someone else.” You said, softly, looking back up at him to see his reaction.

He gulped and then cleared his throat, “Oh. I see.”

You sighed, frustrated that he wasn’t budging or showing any other emotion other than a silent nervous puppy. 

You looked at him, hair messy, probably from running his hands through it. A pair of fake glasses perched above his nose, the light from his lamp casting a shadow on his already perfect face. 

There was slightly disbelief in his voice, from knowing you had said no to Jongseong. A boy who’d spent probably 10 years convincing himself that you’d only ever see him as a friend–scratch that, not even a friend. Someone you’d yell at or a human punching bag. Someone to drop guns for when she had no more in game credits. Someone to finish the bag of family sized cheetos with because “it’s too much”. 

Your throat tightened, you weren’t sure why but you started talking: “I…uh…I didn’t really want it to be him. I kept picturing someone else.” 

“Mhm.”

“Someone who…who notices I get cold without me ever saying anything. Someone who walks me home every night. Someone who leaves pebble marks on my freakin’ window.” You said, eyes fluttering to the two tiny hairline cracks caused by Jake.

You stopped, looked up to see Jake’s reaction once again. Your heart was pounding even louder this time. All Jake was doing was staring. At you.

Then suddenly realization sunk in, you idiot. 

“Nevermind, I was just…saying stuff. Forget what I said.”

“No.” He said, firmer. 

He was leaning forward against the windowsill, knuckles white,  “Say it. Please?”

You looked at him, taking a deep breath, gulping for another breath of air because you couldn’t breathe, “I…I wanted it to be you.”

 The words hung in the air for a moment or two and you’re unsure if you actually did essentially him that you liked him. 

Jake didn’t move. Stunned. Stared at you with those pearly wide eyes and then you see him inching towards his window. 

“Jake? Jaeyun? Yun, what are you–”

He inched closer, climbing through his damn window.

“JAEYUN!”

He was already halfway out, one leg swung over his windowsill and another at your window. 

“Our windows are like three feet apart,” He huffed, voice strained from awkwardly balancing on the narrow ledge, “I’ll survive.”

“You can just yell!”

“I’m not yelling this!”

Then he crossed the gap and then Jake Sim was in your room.

You inched backwards, on your bed. Jake stood on your floor, scratching the back of his head. His hair a mess, him, slightly breathless.

“You’re insane.”

“You were saying…” He gasped for air. “You wanted it to be me.” 

You nodded, mouth dry, “Yes.”

Jake took one step forward, then he was right in front of you. His hand found his way to your cheek, lifting you up to look at him. 

“I wanted it to be me too,” He whispered. “For so fucking long.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Because he was standing in your room now, three feet away but somehow close enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

Jake closed the rest of the gap in half a second, hands reaching for your face. His fingers brushed your jaw as he leaned in, eyes still locked on yours like he was checking, still checking, like he needed a thousand confirmations—

So you kissed him first.

You crashed your lips onto his in a heartbeat, short-circuiting whatever overthinking he was spiraling into.

And then, he melted. His hands slid to cradle your face fully, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he kissed you back.

You gripped the front of his hoodie, fisting the fabric to keep yourself steady. And when you finally pulled back, you whispered, “For the record, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Jake didn’t even hesitate. He leaned in again, his smile brushing your lips before he kissed you deeper this time.

“You’re doing,” he murmured between kisses, pressing another one to the corner of your mouth…

“Really,” one more, this time near your jaw…

“Good.”

Then he pulled back just enough to grin at you. “Then again, your boyfriend’s a teacher. I could always teach you how to kiss.”

You blinked. “Boyfriend?”

Jake tilted his head, still way too close, still grinning. “You’re telling me we’re not headed in that direction right now?”

“Not if you’re being smug about it.”

“I’ve been waiting ten years for this,” he said without missing a beat, “I’m gonna be as smug as I can be.”

“Ten years?!” you exclaimed, eyes wide.

He nodded seriously. “Remember when you wore that black dress to Sheldon’s funeral?”

You squinted. “Yeah?”

“I thought you looked really pretty.”

“At your turtle’s funeral?”

Jake shrugged. “Am I crazy?”

You stared at him. “Yeah. Kinda.”

He grinned wider. “Crazy about you, though.”

Your fingers tightened on the front of his hoodie, knuckles brushing against his chest as you pulled him closer. Your noses were barely apart, your lips curving as they brushed again—

Knock knock knock.

“Sweetheart? Everything okay there? I heard… noises.”

You froze mid-breath. Jake froze too, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“Shit—” you hissed, panic flaring in your chest. “Closet!”

You shoved him hard toward the wooden closet door by your bookshelf, nearly tripping over your math notes and discarded socks in the process. Jake stumbled, muttering a curse, then ducked into the closet just as you reached for the doorknob.

You plastered on your most innocent smile, heart pounding as you swung the door open.

“Hi, Mom!” you chirped, voice pitched up way too high.

She raised an eyebrow, eyes drifting over your slightly messy hair and suspiciously glowing cheeks. “You okay?”

“Yep! Just watching Netflix.”

Her gaze swept past you into the room. Your bed was unmade, your pillows tossed, one of your shoes lying sideways on the rug like it had been kicked off in a hurry.

“I heard a boy’s voice.”

“Using my new speaker!”

She didn’t look convinced. In fact, she leaned in slightly and lowered her voice. “Are you sure? Because if you are seeing someone…”

You tensed.

“I just hope it’s not someone else.”

Your smile faltered. “…What? What do you mean?”

“Y’know…” she said, shrugging. “If it’s not Sim’s son.”

You blinked. “Sim’s—”

“Jaeyun.”

“She told me he has a crush on you, y’know? Her boy.” Your mom gave you a look. “And to be honest, we’ve been rooting for you two since that turtle funeral.”

You groaned, dropping your forehead dramatically against the doorframe. “Oh my God.”

“It was just so cute! The way the two of you stood in the backyard, looking at each other.”

“Please stop talking.”

“We made a bet. She thinks you’ll get together right after graduation, and I said before.”

“Mum.”

“So who do you think will win? Do you need help speeding things up? I’ve got experience. Want me to tell you how I got your dad?”

“Mum. Stop.”

“Oh, fine. I’ll go,” she sighed. “Just keep the Netflix down, would you?”

As her footsteps retreated down the hall, you slammed the door shut and spun on your heel.

You yanked the closet door open.

Jake stood there, his hair was tousled, cheeks flushed, like he’d barely kept it together in there.

“Can’t believe my mom told yours,” he sighed, stepping out carefully. “It’s like secrets aren’t even secrets anymore.”

“Well, it’s a good thing she told me today,” you muttered. “Right after the whole… thing.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling now.

“I still can’t believe our moms ship us.”

You sighed, already tugging on the front of his hoodie again. “Whatever. Just shut up and kiss me again.”

Jake grinned, stepping closer until your backs were to the door and your room was quiet again.

“Gladly,” he whispered, before leaning in once more.

—

ONE MONTH LATER

You were sprawled on the floor of your room, hoodie sleeves tugged over your palms, legs folded underneath you as you scribbled furiously into your notebook. Your knees were propped against the edge of the bed, an d your hair was half up, half giving up. Jake sat cross-legged behind you on the rug, elbows resting on his knees, watching you.

“You’re so cute when you’re concentrated,” he said, voice all soft and sing-song.

You didn’t even look up. “Yun.”

“Mmh?”

“Stop staring.”

“I can’t help it.” You could hear the grin in his voice. “My girlfriend’s too pretty.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled to yourself.

Without warning, Jake scooted closer until his knees touched your back. Then his arms slipped around your waist, pulling you gently into his lap like it was muscle memory. You let out a startled yelp as your notebook was abandoned somewhere across the carpet. Now you were seated between his thighs, his arms looped tightly around your middle, face buried in the crook of your neck.

“I love this hoodie on you,” he murmured, brushing his nose against your skin. “You always smell like sunshine and detergent.”

“Baby, let me go. I was doing something—”

He kissed your shoulder, lips slow and warm. Then your jaw. Then the soft skin just beneath your ear. “Shhh. Let me love you for, like, five minutes.”

You squirmed. “You’re clingy.”

“I’m touch-starved.”

“You literally hugged me the entire walk back from the academy.”

Jake tightened his hold, hands splayed across your stomach now. “It’s not my fault you make me clingy.”

You finally turned to face him, arms loosely around his neck. He leaned in like gravity pulled him to you, brushing his nose against yours. His gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips.

“You’re so pretty,” Jake whispered, his fingers gently brushing along your cheekbone and down to your jaw. “I don’t think you even know what you do to me.”

You exhaled a laugh, “Jake, I was literally almost done.”

He pouted immediately. “Jake?” he repeated, like the word physically hurt him.

You looked up, confused. “What?”

“Did you just call me by my actual name?” His face twisted, mock-offended, as he clutched his chest dramatically. “No. Nope. Not allowed.”

You blinked. “Are you seriously mad because I called you Jake?”

He sat up slightly, brows furrowing. “Yeah. Yes, I am. That’s what teachers call me. You? You call me baby. Or sweetheart. Or love. Or beautiful boy. I’d even take Yun. Not Jake.”

You smirked. “Jake—”

“Lalalala—” He slapped his hands over his ears and turned his head away from you. “I’m not listening

“Jake.” You grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands down from his ears. “JAKE! Okay, fine! Baby?”

He immediately stopped, all sweet-eyed and smug. “Yes?” he replied, voice as soft as sugar.

“Oh my god. You’re insane.”

“Insane?” he scoffed, pulling you closer until your legs straddled his lap. His hands gripped your waist like they belonged there. “What’s insane is that you don’t fucking love me.”

You stared at him, jaw dropping. “Sim Jaeyun—”

He gasped, scandalised, throwing his head back like you’d physically wounded him. “And again with the full name. Gah! You hate me.”

You burst out laughing as he yanked you forward and buried his face in the crook of your neck, groaning

“Okay, fine,” you said, playing along. “Oh, my dearest bundle of love, light of my life, tell me—how must I ever earn your forgiveness?”

He perked up instantly, lifting his head with a bright smile. “Ooh. This is fun.” He clapped once, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I want kisses.”

You snorted. “Kisses? That’s it?”

“I want one here,” he tapped his cheek.

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to it.

“And here,” he tapped the other.

Then he tapped his lips. “And one here. Minimum a minute. No funny business. Though, I don’t mind if you slip in a little tongue.”

You narrowed your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous.”

Still, you leaned in, slowly, lips brushing against his. Jake’s hands slid up your back, holding you close as he kissed you back properly.

When you finally pulled away, breath mingling with his, he whispered against your mouth, “Forgiveness granted.”

You smiled, forehead pressed to his until your phone dinged.

You pulled back and glanced at the screen. “Why did Sunghoon just text me, ‘control your damn dog’?”

Jake tilted his head, expression too casual. “Oh. I think he’s referring to the text I just sent him.”

You squinted. “What text?”

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I don't know could be the one where I told him to eat shit and get diarrhoea.”

Your jaw dropped. “What?! Why?”

“He texted you for your chem notes.”

“Jake!”

He grinned, smug and unrepentant. “Name? Again? That’s strike two, baby. One more and you’re out.”

"You're insane."

[cherie-doll]

Cherie luveeee. Wish you good and healthy, beautiful.

I got someting.

You know those retired dog officers that have been trained for jungkies and bombs?? We adopt them while cod characters are away for deployments, because we're lonely and literal scary dog privileges hehe.

And when they're home, our dog gets alert and quite relentless by the smells until we pay the good officer jerky and 2 ice cubes.

It's messy, but hope you understand what I mean.

Dw i see your vision and tried to execute it

⪩⪨ price, ghost, soap, gaz, roach, alejandro, rudy, phillip graves, makarov, keegan, könig, horangi, nikto

No cuz imagine missing that security, yearning for those big strong muscle arms wrapping around you and engulfing your body in theirs >.<

BuT, you’re alone at home, that emptiness roaming the halls and dark rooms as the orange glow of the afternoon sun seeps through the blinds and the most awful melancholy hits you. You grab your keys and go out for a drive not being able to stand the loneliness anymore.

You’re driving around downtown and spot a shelter, you saw a poster on the glass display for cats. Only to walk in and be told that they’ve all been adopted, you’re ready to walk out until a yelp can be heard from one of the kennels and see a German shepherd watching you with his big brown eyes, head laying on his paws. Your heart squeezes and it’s as if you’re made for one another. Without another thought you ask for it and after a few moments you’re walking out with your new companion.

You spend the next couple of weeks bonding with the dog, taking him out on walks and sleeping peacefully on your bed despite your military bf/husband gone because you know the canine sleeping on the bedroom floor will protect you. You even go out a little more often than you would when they're on deployment because you've got your guard dog scaring away those with wrong intentions but is secretly a sweetheart within.

And it isn't until your partner comes back, late at night, that your dog raises his head, ears attentive and listening to the footsteps of heavy boots probably leaving dirt all over the clean entrance hallway and making their way up the stairs to the bedroom. He can sense a strange new smell, much stronger than your subtle scent. The overpowering new scent awakens his instincts and he's at the door in an instant growling and waking you up.

Much to the confusion and frustration of the dog, you're not as wary as you should be. You freely open the door and welcome the soldier who's been away for too long into your arms.

Price would be too engulfed in your embrace to notice the dog growling lowly at him. It would only be when he leans down to put away his shoes and place the duffle bag slung over his shoulder that he'd come face to face with the dog's snout sniffing him over. He'd ask where you got it from and once the dog realized there is no threat they'd get used to each other quickly.

Simon wouldn't appreciate the hair the dog has left on the side of the bed that's usually his. But he commends you for being smart and getting a dog, and not just any fluffy golden retriever, no you got a dog breed he can trust will use the best of their instincts to take care of you. He'll be at ease knowing he's not leaving you alone anymore.

Johnny would have a close call getting bitten by the doggo. Maybe warn him, yeah? But he's all over the dog, petting it, asking what's his name. And he most likely wouldn't get much sleep despite arriving late home. The dog is all excited about a new person in the house and be all over him.

Kyle tries his darn best to earn that dog's trust and convince them he's not a threat. It's not that the dog smells bad intentions from him, he just doesn't like the proximity between the both of you. Noses in between you both while you're giving Kyle a kiss on the lips. After a few treats, he got the dog to calm down and sit at the far end of the room, keeping an eye just in case lol.

Gary loves dogs and tbh he thinks this was a surprise you had planned for him. The dog can't even do his regular routine of sniffing the person because Gary is hugging him, petting and scratching behind the dog's ears. The dog loves the attention though and quickly warms up to him.

Alejandro would get a good scare at this big dog standing in the doorway watching him. Would curse loud enough his mother could surely hear from her grave and rise to throw a chancla at him. He's tired, has had a long drive and in his usual good mood would dote on the dog but not when he's on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion. Doesn't even say anything much after that and just grabs you, collapses into bed with you in his arms and falls asleep.

Rudy's first thought is that a stray dog got in and would be concerned for your safety but then sees the collar around the dog's neck and know right away he's part of the family now. And no matter how tired he is, Rudy would still sit there and with the dog resting on his lap, would ask you how you got him, where, what's his name, how you've been feeling after adopting him, etc.

Phillip doesn't pay mind to the dog, even if its growling at him and even baring teeth. Plenty of people do that to him at work, he's used to it. Man has two things in his mind since pulling into the driveway; you and rest. He takes a quick shower, doesn't even bother putting actual clothes on and just falling asleep in a towel wrapped around his waist. The dog just standing next to the bed at Phillip's side, smelling his face curiously.

Makarov isn't surprised to be greeted by dogs at the door because he's probably already owned a few big dogs but they're usually kept outside. Kicks his shoes off, which distract the snarling dog who goes after his shoes only seeing a new toy. He goes right over and starts getting ready to sleep until he turns to face your side confused to see the dog in between the both of you with his shoe in his mouth.

Keegan couldn't care less, he has no thoughts at the moment. His eyes barely register the dog who won't stop thrusting his nose into his face when he leans down to pull off his boots and socks. He just grumbles something and pushes the dog away who follows after him. He kisses you goodnight or hello, he doesn't know anymore, gives the dog a pat on the head and drifts off to sleep.

König the type to just stand there staring at the dog who stares right back at him. Surely, with how sleep deprived he is he must think it's an hallucination or maybe he's asleep and already dreaming. Reaches out, letting the dog sniff his hand and when he feels the warm breath from the dog's nostrils tickle his hand he simply nods approvingly. He'll make friends with the dog tomorrow.

Horangi would probably set off all of the dog's danger sensors because of his nature of doing things. Like he gets home, slams the door shut, his heavy footsteps making their way to you, throwing his duffle bag on the floor and tackling you (lovingly ofc duh) would make the dog think you're getting attacked.

Nikto would start asking you all sorts of question, interrogating you almost. Asking where the wolf came from, why did you get it, did you not feel safe to wait until he came back? He's asking more because he's genuinely concerned and wants to know if something specific happened that made you feel like you needed a dog as big as the one currently stuffing his nose into the pockets of his jacket.

[yestrday]

: ̗̀➛ ALL OR NOTHING. yan! aventurine / gn! reader

it's a nice feeling to finally be on the winning side, feigning fairness when all the winning cards are in his hand. but it's not like you can fault him for cheating. after all, you who has nothing chose to challenge him, the one who will gain everything.

( overarching theme of sl4very, anim4l cruelty, anim4l death, bl00d, graphic description of violence, hinted obsessive behavior, im unoriginal and stole kafkas spirit whisper for reader ) + 7.5k words

"It's just a bet," he suggests, as if this gamble won't cost you your everything. "Juuust a bet. Exactly what are you so scared of?"

He sits laid back in his plush velvet chair, twirling a cocktail as he enjoys the finest luxuries in life. He is clad head to toe in the finest clothing, dressed like a peacock waiting to impress. You, on the other hand, feel more like the peahen— dreadfully drab in your rags and no choice but to watch as the peacock flaunts his feathers. You are knelt on the ground, but your eyes show no submission.

"I'm not crazy, gambler," you bite. "I know the IPC. They are full of shit. And you, Aventurine." Your eyes set on him with hatred. "You're the smelliest of the lot."

Aventurine, the gem of lies and luck, sighs dramatically. "Pup, you know I don't like it when you're so vulgar, y'know? I'm giving you a chance at freedom, so you ought to at least treat me at least a little bit nicer. I'm not the one who shackled you, so I don't understand what the aggression is all about."

"You're the reason why I'm here in the first place!"

"No, Jade was." He presses a finger to your lip and you'd bite it if it weren't for the annoying bind you were under. "Jade came across you and thought you and your talent would make for a nice gift. You were a gift and I'm just the receiver. So don't go barking up the wrong tree, pup."

"So." He leans back into his couch and shoots you a sly grin. "Up for round one?"

You are lost.

The meaning of Paths and their symbolisms are lost on you. You don't care for Aeons— no one on your home planet was. You were busy diving in dumpsters for a scrape of food, tricking your 'friends' into sacrificing themselves for you, and killing whatever was left of your humanity just to make it to another day. You walk on no Path but yours.

You don't even know which way you're going. So you are lost.

You think Aventurine is lost too.

He has every detail of his facade practiced. His gait is relaxed enough to not be intimidating, but not sloppy enough to be called out as bad posture. He talks in a smooth voice that eases fools and makes enemies wary, his smile is charming to sway the opponent into another gamble, his hair is fixed to frame his pretty face, and he chooses words that cannot be turned into loopholes. He is Aventurine. But he is not himself.

He does not care for the Preservation, but he rejects the Elation. He is on his own Path too, but he knows the destination he must reach— his 'End'. In that way, he is different from you, because you know not your journey or your ending. Still, he is just as lost as you.

But he makes a darn good show of not seeming that way. Right now, you watch as he throws the dice on the table, and the whole table watches with bated breath as they turn. A six and one— he lost the bet to the other's six and five. They cackle gleefully as they collect their earnings from Aventurine. They have chips upon chips on their side of the table while Aventurine's winnings are cut in half.

"I think I'll call it a day, pretty boy," the gambler cackles, greedily eyeing his earnings and possibly dreaming about the cash he's made tonight. "Even a gambler knows when to call quits, right?"

Aventurine pouts. "Aww, so soon? C'mon, the night's only begun! Who knows, play another round and you might just end up with more money than you have right now~"

The man laughs again, obviously not fooled by his pity act. "Boy, I'm not as addicted as you are. I know when to stop instead of letting you bleed me out dry." But Aventurine isn't fazed; rather, he snaps his fingers and you lower your head as you step to his side.

"Well, we can't have that, can we? [Y. Name], be a dear and persuade this gentleman into another round with me."

A glow of your eyes. Then you fix the man with an eerie gaze as you say, bright and clear, "Hey, you: Play another round with my master."

As if in a daze, the man's eyes cloud over and sit right back. Another round later Aventurine wins all his losses back and more, leaving the other gambler's side naked and bare of chips. The man is barely out of his stupor when he realizes what just happened— that he's fallen for a trick and now he's ended up with no money to even cover his lodgings— but you and Aventurine have sauntered out of the casino doors by the time he's begun cussing you out.

"Ha! That was fun." Aventurine shrugs off his jacket now that you're in the car and raises an empty champagne glass to you. "You're a good partner, [Y. Name]. Honestly, that Spirit Whisper of yours is such a nice trick. Just like that Stellaron Hunter, right?"

"... Kafka?"

"Yes, her. Enigmatic woman, isn't she? A bit ironic how those with such a powerful ability ended up as slaves. Her as Destiny's, and you as... mine." He gives your collar a little tug and you growl in warning, but you inch closer to him anyway. "So. Gambling. You up for that round?"

You scoff and grin at him with all teeth and no mirth. "You really think that a Cornerstone would bet on their slave's freedom?" Aventurine's own grin grows wider. "C'mon. Even Pteruges-V has better lies than you."

"Ah, right, your homeworld. No wonder you're so brazen all the time, even to your superiors. I forget that fear is a foreign concept to you people. Still," he raises your chin with a finger. "If you're so fearless, why not bet on a gamble? It's not like you're scared."

"There may be fools from my planet that you can trick with that taunt, peacock, but I'm not one of them. I'm fearless, not stupid. And with the way you're so eager to involve me in this bet, I'm beginning to suspect that you need this more than I do." You push him away. "So, no, master, I won't indulge you. I'll bide my time and look for an escape. Just like I've always had."

"And what?" He looks at you from behind his sunglasses. "Will you kill me to gain that freedom?"

You flash him a sharp grin, now amused. "Of course you'd think that, master."

The smile on his face is wiped clean. You really are a brazen thing, you.

Jade has always mentioned how soft Aventurine is on you. A dog of your attitude should merit a little more disciplinary action and even the good Doctor has told him this once or twice after seeing your arrogance despite the collar around your neck. "Your dog bites more than it deserves," Ratio scoffed while you made an action of biting him behind Aventurine. He frowned in displeasure. "You ought to make it learn a lesson or two."

"Now, now, doctor," Aventurine had laughed. "Not everyone shares the same sadistic tendencies as you." An image of you collared and shaking on your knees flashes through his mind, and he finds himself gulping. Ratio looks at him like he doesn't believe him.

It's not like he hasn't thought of it, of chaining you to the wall and starving you so that you learn that your attitude has its consequences. You shouldn't bite the hand that feeds you, not when he's been so good to you. But that... that was exactly the line of thought his old master had. That wicked man who put a brand on him and sullied his hands with his wretched man... he couldn't risk turning into a monster like... that.

Aventurine is weak. Unable to let go of past sentiments and memories, he makes it up with his grand display of bravado and high-stakes gambles. He gambles even as he spoils you, laughing at your audacity and even rewarding you for it sometimes, not knowing whether you'll leave him or if you'll stay with him. It is a gamble indeed, but you were worth every risk.

"What do you think of me, [Y. Name]?" The cityscape beyond the window is glowing with Pier Point's nightlife, and his suite provides him a good view of the world beneath him. He glances back at you, stirring his coffee for him. "Your dear master Aventurine. What do you think of me?"

"Annoying, stupid, a fool, an addict, and pathetic." You don't hesitate to badmouth your master. "You lie too well, you think that luck of yours will never run out, and you try to be someone that you can't."

"And who is that someone?"

Your eyes flash. "Someone strong. Someone confident. Someone who isn't afraid to admit his weaknesses and hope that things get better."

"I didn't peg you for an optimist, dear pet."

"Hmph. That's not optimism. I may not know what exactly fear is, but I know that what is holding you back isn't it. You do not fear things, gambler. You stake it all and bet on something so intangible as luck. That can't be fear."

"Then what is it?"

The stare you give him sets his heart off, looking straight into his eyes and giving a grin so devilish and knowing like that facade of his never mattered in the first place.

"You're a coward. A plain, old coward. Nothing more, nothing less."

That conversation had always popped up in his head in the most inconvenient of moments, especially when he was about to get some sleep. His heart beat faster every time he recalled that knowing gaze of yours, invading where he didn't want the world to see and baring his soul right before your very eyes. His facade doesn't work on you.

He could care less. You were the one person he didn't want it to work on, though he'd never admit that out loud.

This meeting with the other Ten Cornerstones could not interest him any less, and it seemed to be that way for the others too. Jade is saying something on behalf of Diamond, again, and everyone is busy doing their own thing. Only Topaz seems to be the one paying at least some attention, and even then she gets distracted by Numby from time to time. Aventurine glances at the clock.

He wonders how his pup is faring while he's away. Ecstatic, perhaps.

"— All evidence leads to an underground network that is scattered among numerous planets, though thankfully all of them are within the same galaxy. I'll be forwarding an email to you all with a detailed report on each of these. Just know that most of us will be likely deported to these countries to break up the—" In the middle of Jade's tiresome monologue, the security alarms start to blare and two officers slam through the doors with looks of urgency. One of them scans the room until his eyes land on Aventurine, and they quickly approach him.

"Sir!" They say, desperate and alarmed. "Your do— I mean, slave! They've– They've escaped!"

Surprise streaks across the faces of the Ten Cornerstones, even Aventurine's. He collects himself when he catches Jade's knowing smile and chuckles to himself.

"Well, I guess this is the master's consequence for not disciplining their pet."

Did he really think you were fucking stupid? Taking on a bet for your freedom... what a bunch of bullshit. He can proclaim about how much he loves a fair gamble, but you know that's only reserved for the people around the table. You are his slave, the one he demeaningly calls 'pet'— you don't have the chance to make your own dealings.

"Halt! In the name of Qlipoth, you better stop while we're giving you a chance." These IPC henchmen were slowpokes, the lot of them. You weave in and between salary workers, crashing trolleys full of wares and coffees and hopping between levels just to shake them off their tracks. By golly, they might be incompetent but Aeons damned they were nothing but persistent.

"Ha, the Devil Hunters were more annoying than them," you mutter to yourself, skidding around the corner only to come face-to-face with two IPC henchmen. They raise their polearms to strike, but with a chilling grin stretched across your face, you say: "Hey, you: Jump."

You don't look back to see whether they made the seven-floor drop.

This reminds you of the nights you spent back in Pteruges-V: making fools out of the prissy rich, jumping across buildings to shake of the Hunters, and using whatever you had to make things go your way. Not everyone had Spirit Whisper, but those who had made good use of it and you sure as hell wouldn't miss a single chance to use it.

Your mind runs with plans as you continue to run away. Maybe you'll find a nice ship to stow away on, hopefully, one that leads to a nice planet that isn't so stuffy and rigid. Maybe like Homberto-σ, out of sight from the IPC and where everyone minded their own business.

For what felt like forever trying to shake your followers off, you finally came to a stop when you realized that only the sound of your footsteps could be heard in this labyrinth of hallways and corridors. Finally having shaken them off, you sigh as you climb up the stairs to the rooftop. 'Just jump down and sneak off to the nearest hiding place you can find.' You tug at your collar and scowl. 'When I escape, not even this collar will matter anymore. Not when I'm somewhere they won't reach me.'

You've escaped so many life-or-death situations before. Escaping slavery is no different.

"Slave [Y.Name], subordinate of Cornerstone Aventurine, you are surrounded!" A voice blares through a megaphone the moment you step onto the roof deck. You hiss as multiple glaring lights settle on you, shielding your face from them and the helicopters' onslaught of wind. "Surrender now before we are forced to take extreme measures."

Through the gaps of your fingers, you can barely make out the men in black pointing their guns at your head, the red hot of the laser making you a point-blank target. You click your tongue. Those bastards tricked you into thinking you were safe. Fuck. You couldn't even be mad. This was all on you.

"Oh, little pup. I guess I really should have listened to them when they told me to discipline you." Aventurine's seedy voice sighs behind you, smirking as he nonchalantly strides up to you. "Did you really have to do all this instead of taking the bet? Do you really hate the thought of playing with me, hm?"

"Fuck off."

"No can do, little one, you know how much I'm obsessed with you, right?" He chuckles, catching your chin between his thumb and index and forcing you to look into his eyes. Those Sigonian eyes are covered by the cloudy purple of his glasses, but even you can tell just how much he's enjoying this mess you've put yourself in. "You know I don't have a need for your skill. I could easily persuade anyone without trying, but I still let you stick around. Pup, I can't just back away from you when you know how much I want you."

You smile darkly. "That's cuz you're a sicko who likes tugging on the chain instead of being in it."

Those pretty eyes of his darken for a moment, embittered by the snarky comment at his past, before his hands trail down to your collar, hooking it with a finger and pulling on it. "Dear, while I usually have the patience for your tirades, I'd rather not do it today. You've humiliated me enough in front of the entire Corporation. So—" Pulling once again on your collar, he starts to lead you to the door. "— Let us depart without much hassle, okay?"

Humiliation sears your nerves like a hot metal, a warning growl eliciting from your mouth as he continues to tug you away from the rooftop. Close, you were so fucking close. Here you are breathing in the fresh night wind, a jump away from freedom, but then these IPC idiots all had you fooled. You don't care how many bullets will embed themselves into your skin, all you just needed to do was get away from this grip Aventurine has on you.

You grab the wrist pulling on you, yanking him towards you. His eyes widen before narrowing again, as if not believing that you still had the energy to fight like you don't have red laser points on your forehead. "[Y. Na—"

"Hey, you: S—"

You couldn't even get another syllable out. Your collar beats a few pulses before it starts squeezing your neck, crushing your windpipes and forcing you down on your knees as you choke on your blood. It sears hot around your neck and you collapse writhing on the ground as you sob and gurgle on your screams and congealed blood.

'WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY ME—' You can only curse and scream inside your head as you painfully thrash on the cement. '— A BILLION BASTARDS IN THE WORLD AND IT HAD TO BE FUCKING ME.'

Darkness is pushing in on you and the pain is making it too hard to go on, but you've always been a fighter. Even if you think that your squirming is pathetic and futile to the onlookers, you continue to tug and pull on the collar like you have a chance. Your ears are ringing and your eyes are too fucking blurry to see with, but the fight doesn't die down.

Aventurine places a soft palm on your hair. Even through the tears stinging your eyes, you can barely make out the faint expression on his face. Damned fucking bastard, damned Signonian, hypocrite and the fucking devil—!

He even has the audacity to look sad for you, as the light slips away from your eyes.

The first round is simple. Play a round of poker with him.

Aventurine hums delightedly as he shuffles the cards with clean and practised movements, looking right at home at the dealer's table he has sitting in his suite. You blankly look at the cards, not even an inch of a reaction from your side. He chuckles as he deals your cards.

"C'mon, look alive, dear." It's almost like he genuinely wants you to cheer up. "Look, I even poured out alcohol for you. It's not everyday that you get to taste Pier Point's most exquisite wine!"

You continue to stare blankly. You haven't given up yet, of course not, but... you can barely bring yourself to move.

When Aventurine is done dealing all the cards, he leans back on his chair and studies his opponent, just like he always has in the past. If you were acting normally, this would have been an easy win. After all, you always wore your heart on your sleeve and abhorred being told to control your emotions. You acted the way you felt— you curse when you anger, you boast when you're feeling smug, and you press your lips together and blush as he praises you for another job well done.

But now. Well. Bandaids cover the seared marks on your neck as well as your head after you've slammed it against the pavement during your delirious fit on the rooftop. Your arms are littered with purples and blues, the aftermath of a disciplinary session that went on throughout the night. Despite the abuse that Aventurine has (rightfully, in his mind) dealt to you, he had made sure to tend to you afterwards.

Settling your head on his lap, combing through the strands as he placed an icepack on your bruises. He hummed you an old children's rhyme from his home planet as you lay limp across the couch. You could barely move, mind unable to process the pain and despair of having an inch of freedom being ripped away from you. He had wiped away the tear that would fall from your eyes.

You couldn't feel comforted at all.

"This will be the first round out of four. Today, we'll make this a bit simple. Five quick rounds of Indian poker. If you're confident that your card is higher than mine, you can bet as much as you like. Not confident? Fold, and that won't count as a round. Loser has the lower card." He raises his glasses to his hair and smiles at you. "Understood?"

"Understood," you grunt. "I'm not a fuckin' idiot."

Aventurine only smirks. It irritates you, but you don't have much fire in you to snap at him.

The room is silent save for the clinking of chips against each other. The two of you cast a chip to the middle of the table. You raise your card to your forehead.

You cast two more chips. Aventurine casts three. You stare at the printed picture on his card and throw in another chip. He throws in another five. You frown.

"Fold."

"Ah~ You should've been more confident in yourself!" Aventurine chuckles as he begins to shuffle the deck to deal another round. You scowl at the Ace of Clubs in your hand, mocking you at your relinquished defeat. "Is a little intimidation all that's needed to make you submit? You weren't this docile before."

"Shut the fuck up and let's play again." He decides to stifle his laugh for the sake of your nerves.

"Raise." Your win, six of hearts to three of spades.

"Raise." Your win, queen of spades to jack of hearts.

"Fold." Could've been Aventurine's, ace of spades to king of spades.

"Raise." Aventurine's win, eight of clubs to six of hearts.

"Fold." Could've been yours, queen of hearts to 10 of clubs.

"Raise." Aventurine's win, nine of clubs to seven of spades.

Aventurine's practiced hands thumb through the cards as he begins to rearrange them again. His glass wine is almost empty, while yours is untouched. The man knows that you don't drink, so why would he...?

"Last round before one of us wins," Aventurine's voice lilts as he throws you your card. "How about we make it exciting? No one is allowed to fold this round." You frown at him but don't say anything. You cast another chip to the table, and he follows suit.

He has a 10 of spades pressed to his forehead, and your fingers dig deep into your skin.

'Oh please, there's other cards higher than a 10.' You remind yourself, but you gulp down your dry throat as your vision zeroes into his card. 'Jack, Queen, King, Ace. Anything. Please.' Aventurine notices your hurried breathing and smiles knowingly. You gulp whatever cowardice is rising in your throat and throw another chip.

"Raise." Fuck it. If this is the last round, then let's just ball.

He cocks his head, finding the motion unnecessary in this last round. But he sighs with a smile and plays along, casting his chips into the fray, "Then I'll raise too."

"This is the last round," you say, more so to remind yourself.

"Yep." He leans forward on the table and the fluorescent lights cast a shadow over those alluring eyes. "Nervous?"

'How could you say that? How could you taunt me like that? When you were just like me?'

You strengthen your resolve and glare up at him, the fire lighting back up in those blank eyes. "I hope you go to hell."

You throw your card to the middle, with the rest of the chips.

Jack of Clubs.

Aventurine cocks his head at you, smiling as usual.

"Congratulations, pet."

One would expect that Pier Point was the peak embodiment of wealth and luxury, being the base of the Interastral Peace Corporation. But the brightly something shone the darker its shadows.

Aventurine just so happened to like those shadows, even shrugging off those fancy clothes of his just so that he could find solace in those sleazy bars and play rounds of poker with dead-eyed salarymen and recently fired hopefuls.

The surroundings didn't fare any better. Amongst the dying neon lights, Pier Point's worst neighborhoods featured a just as nasty environment. Drunkards lying beside dumpsters with shattered beer bottles around them, cats hissing at each other in a fight for survival, and abandoned children peeking at them around the corner as they lay in wait for an opening.

Aventurine has shedded his elaborate peacock coat in favor of a simple white button-down and slacks. Despite the simplicity, he still looked out of place amongst the rags, though it made people think of him as a fearless idiot rather than run away at the sight of the IPC's elite.

"Mmm, that robin is indeed very plump," the blonde idiot remarks out of nowhere. "Quite out of place for this kind of area."

You pay him very little attention, mindlessly kicking the broken half of a bottle with your heel. It bumps into a smelly bastard who shoots you an irritated look, but quickly cowers when you return it tenfold. "Maybe it's been feeding on the leftovers of you prissy IPC folk," you spat, taking a look at the fat robin for yourself.

He takes no notice of the slight towards his kind and instead cocks his head at the cat slinking around the corner. "Well. Its health has attracted a rather unwelcome predator." He turns to you, with a mischievous smile. "How about we make this round two? Who will die first, the cat or the robin?"

Seriously? You were betting your freedom on something as stupid as this? You consider the cat— snarling, insipid thing, balding and thin as a stick— then the robin, tweeting fearfully at its perch on the graffitied wall. "Am betting on the cat. Could eat the fat thing while you go on another gamble."

He laughs, sliding on his shades as he walks into the seedy bar. "Then I have no choice but to bet on the poor robin. Let's have some fun before we see the results of our bet."

The cat is lying on the ground, heaving its last few breaths. Its yellow eyes are barely peeking out from its eyelids, probably delirious and starving in its last moments. You poke it slightly with your foot.

It meows pitifully. You instantly feel bad.

It might just be the ugliest thing you've laid your eyes on, but even the ugliest creatures deserve some sort of companionship in their last moments. It hisses weakly when you draw your hand close, but it can't do anything but relent as you stroke its hairless head. It purrs a bit, ragged and breathy, but the heaving of its ribbed chest slows as it relaxes.

"Don't do that," you murmur. "Just... just be quiet. It's okay."

The quiet steps of leather shoes stop beside you, and Aventurine watches on in silence as you comfort the dying thing. His gaze moves from the cat to the robin, still perched on top of the wall with his fat little chest and beady eyes. It hasn't moved from its position at all, just... staring and staring.

"So—"

"I know," you murmur, focus still on the poor thing. "I know, okay?"

The fat robin chirps again, tittering with its mocking chirp, before it flies away into the sky.

Your cat closes its eyes shut, and its skinny chest finally slows to a stop.

Aventurine stays with you for a while as you find a nice spot of earth to bury it.

No matter how much you want to believe your preconceived image of the blonde gambler— irresponsible, materialistic, money-wasting— you can't just make up lies about him in your head when all of his missions end on a win for him. Right now, he's heading for another mission in a galaxy far away again. And like always, he's dragged you along whether you like it or not.

"Come on, you like sightseeing other planets!" He laughs on the space warp going there. "Makes your blood pumping, scouting out the possible planets you can run away to."

"If I can run away," you grumble, not wanting to acknowledge him as you stare out the window and into the starry expanse of galaxies and space. This sight has always unnerved you— a reminder of how small and insignificant you are. How small and insignificant this collar hand on your life.

"It's not like you to be such a downer," he huffs. He pats the empty seat beside him. "Come, come. Drink with me. Ah, but no alcohol though. Don't want you trying to bite my entourage as soon as we get off." He's referring to the time that you had two sips of the lightest alcohol the ship had in stock before you absolutely wasted and decided that running away to the next planet was a good idea.

You grunt but sit on the floor next to his feet. He doesn't dare to correct you but only regards you with amusement before handing you a glass of sparkling water. You've always had this weird insistence of maintaining your master-slave status quo, despite abhorring your status as a slave. You followed his commands to the tee no matter how dangerous but refused to budge whenever he insisted on treating you like an equal.

"Don't get me wrong," you had snapped at him angrily one time. "As long as I'm in this stupid collar, I am not your fucking equal. So don't go around treatin' me like one, got it?!"

"You got the briefing, right? I'll be dismantling an underground operation on our next planet, so I'll be making good use of your Spirit Whisper." You sip your drink and make no reaction. "I'm sure you have no complaints about that, right?"

"Like I have a fuckin' choice."

He laughs into his cocktail. "Right. How could I forget?" Your eyes narrow into slits when he threads his thin fingers through your hair, but you don't make any move to remove them. "Unfortunately, this isn't an operation that I can just charm and gamble my way through, so you'll be doing a lot of heavy lifting. But so long as I have you, my dearest pet, I'm sure we'll be done before we know it."

You fight the urge to give into his tender touch, massaging your scalp as he combs your strands, though your eyelids are drooping now. He chuckles fondly when you rest your chin on the sofa, right next to his thigh. Adorable, how easily you succumb to the smallest of physical affection.

"Just take a nap," he hums. "We'll be there before you know it."

Aventurine's lavish outfit is a stark contrast against the nitty and gritty environment of the gambling den the two of you are staking out right now. Some of the men leer at him when he passes by, their faces painted by sweat and malice, and the promiscuous women bat their eyes at him with painted-on sweet smiles. No one bats an eye at the collared servant trailing behind him.

You try not to wince as you accidentally make eye contact with another slave, them kneeling on the ground with only rags to cover them and you have the luxury to look away as you grip the sleeves of your ironed button-down. You decide to just fix your eyes on Aventurine's back for the rest of the journey.

The next room you enter— less room to be honest, and more... coliseum-y— features a fighting ring where the crowd cheers on two dogs circling each other under the fluorescent spotlights. The other one, bigger and scarred, is baring his teeth while bearing a deep red gash across his body. The smaller one is shivering but giving the same energy back, snarling in intimidation while also sporting a noticeable limp. Despite the darkness of the room, you don't miss the way Aventurine's face contorts into disgust as he looks at the fight and surveys the crowd of spectators.

"Disgusting," he murmurs. You don't say anything back, though you doubt he could hear you amidst all this cheering. You used to bet on dogs too, back in the day. It was quick and easy money, and you had better things to worry about than the fate of some mutt.

While you're focused on the pathetic dog show in front of you, he steps to your side and nudges you with his elbow. "Willing to bet?" He asks, eyes focused on the show. "As our third round."

"From the look on your face, I thought you hated this kind of thing."

"I do, but I'm not putting money in the pot like the rest of them. This is strictly between you and me with no money involved." He turns his gaze to you. "So, what about it?"

You study the dogs. They've been circling each other for a while now, and the crowd's been growing more and more agitated by the lack of fighting. You think of the dogs you've bet on before, how the smaller ones had just an equal chance of success at winning as the bigger ones. Unconsciously, you tug at your collar. It matches perfectly with the stupid dogs down below.

"Bet," you huff. "I'm taking the smaller one."

You don't know why. It'd make sense to just bet on the bigger and badder, but maybe it's that ferocity in his eyes even if it's overshadowed by the growling menace that has you feeling for it. It's stupid, you know, betting your freedom on a hunch and emotions. But...

If it could have a chance at winning... then why can't you?

...

... Are you destined to die, just like it?

... Are you destined to die as a slave for another IPC slave?

... Will your death be just as morbid and pathetic as the mongrel, his innards spilling onto the pavement while the winner is pulled away by the collar, with no prize but another day of freedom?

This is round three out of four. You've only won one so far.

The very next round could kill you. Could completely sign away your freedom.

Shit shit shit shit shit. Why'd you have to go feeling sorry for the stupid shit? Why'd you have to empathize with its futile fight? Why'd you have to go see yourself in it? Now you could very much share its fate, dying pathetically serving for people who never cared about you in the first place.

Shit shit shit shit shit. The pressure of the bet has always been at the back of your mind, niggling at your brain. But now you can feel its heavy weight squeezing around your heart, in perfect rhythm with the phantom choking of your collar. If you don't win the next, you could very much—

Something light touches your shoulder and you lurch back like you had been stricken there. It disgusts and scares you, sending both repulsion and fear through your body like maggots wriggling into your system.

With a faltering outstretched palm, Aventurine's eyes widen behind his glasses. He sees something on your face, enough to make him bite down whatever cocky shit he has to say, and turns his back towards you.

"Let's go," he says, just barely audible above the crowd. "We still have a mission to complete.

"This is some silly joke of yours, isn't it?" Aventurine maintains his cool facade, but even then there is disgust in his tone as he speaks to Jade. "Giving a slave to another... you must think this is hilarious."

"Amusing, maybe, but this little one is too precious to let loose in the wild." Jade strokes your head, and while you curse in warning, you don't move to attack. "A user of Spirit Whisper, a rarity even among those in Pteruges-V. Don't you think it'd be better if they served the Amber Lord rather than going back to their pretty crimes?"

"Then give them to someone else." Aventurine turns his back on you and Jade. "Since when did I need help closing a deal?"

"Well, I just thought that you were lonely."

"And you think gifting me a slave of all things would help me?"

"Oh, just give them a chance. I'm sure you'll like this one. Look." Jade raises your chin with a finger, lifting your bruised face to the light. You shoot her a glare, plotting murder in your head, but you don't try to fight back. You might have tried once, probably, and learned your lesson. "Don't you love the fire in their eyes, even after being collared and brutally beaten?"

It is sick. It is sick how Jade can just easily muse about your past abuse to his face. To him. It is sick how the IPC thinks that Aventurine would even be happy about this... gift, let alone accept it.

"I appreciate the... thought." Jade smiles at the barely held back distaste in his voice. "But I'd really rather not."

"Oh, I see..." Jade hums, tilting her head to scrutinize you. "But no one else will accept you since you're too feisty for their liking. So I guess..."

"We'll just have to kill you."

Your face pales. Aventurine has never been quick to turn around.

"Fine. I'll accept," he says with gritted teeth and narrowed eyes. "I'll accept your gift, so just..." He sighs, massaging his temples and waving Jade off. "Go away and let us be."

"Is this some sort of savior complex you have going on?" Despite being a slave, you haven't really learned how to hold that spiteful tongue of yours. Half of the fault lies with Aventurine, seeing how he's never bothered to scold you for it. He looks away from the reports in his hand and smiles at you.

"Oh, whatever do you mean, my dear pup?" Your bitter scowl is pushed down even further at his sweet tone and you scoff.

"I mean," you say, gesturing all around you. "You never scold me, you give me good food, you do all these nice things for me. You don't beat and lash at me like others do. Are you feeling sorry? As one slave to another?"

"Personally, I've never heard of a slave complain about treating this well."

"It's weird." You frown. "It's weird and creepy. All these niceties yet I can tell that you don't even mean half of 'em. Your heart isn't in it. You're just doing it for the sake of being nice. So I don't get it." You cross your arms and lean on the couch, deep in thought. "If you don't even mean it, why even bother?"

Aventurine hums, studying your silent and pondering figure before returning to his papers. You don't follow up your complaints with anything else, and the two of you are left to stew in the silence.

... Why even bother indeed?

"Last round and you only have one win, pup." His sickly sweet voice croons, tapping his perfect nails on the table as he watches your expression. "Are you excited?"

Normally you'd bite back, but today you thickly swallow. The looming sense of doom continues to hammer into the back of your skull, spiking your nerves with every beat and shaking your senses. You can barely feel your fingers. You can barely feel except for the fear coiling around your heart.

"... Yes." You can't even barely say a syllable.

Through the rushing blood of your ears, you can barely make out the sound of your master rummaging through something. Something metallic clicks into place and he slides it to the center of the table. You will yourself to look up—

A shiny revolver lies on the table.

A surprised cry elicits from your mouth and you jolt back. The sight of a weapon is enough to startle your poor nerves now and even more so the expectant look glinting in Aventurine's eyes. He smirks and leans forward.

"How about I make an offer you can't refuse?" Not that you were in a position to do so. "Since this is the fourth round, how about we go all in?"

"Russian Roulette. Whoever wins stays alive—"

—And the other lays dead in a puddle of their own blood.

It goes unsaid, but the moment you locked eyes with Aventurine, it was clear that the both of you were thinking of the same thing. You could ponder upon why the Aventurine would stake his own life over something so trivial as your freedom, but you aren't thinking anymore. All you want is your freedom. All you want is to get away.

You don't think further as you wrap your fingers around the handle of the gun and press it to your temple. You pull the trigger. Only a clean click follows, the chamber changing cases. You slide the gun over to him.

He calmly picks it up and slots it to his temple too. "Why are you so desperate to get away from me, pup?" He cocks his head. "I would give you everything you ask for, should you just ask. I treat you with care and as a friend. Is being with me so bad you'd put your life on the line for your freedom?"

He pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. He slides it over to you.

"Even if you go back to your old life, what would be the point? You'll go back to stealing whatever you can off nobles, treating your fellow street rats like fools and pawns before dashing off to your next victim. Would that give you happiness? Fulfillment? Is that the life you prefer instead of being next to me?"

"Sh... Shut up." You sound drained, but he presses on.

"You can have it all, in the price of a collar. Does it not sound good enough to you?"

'Why... Why of all people is he...'

"Do you really hate being owned by me?"

"Why are you..." You choke on your words, grip around the handle trembling. "Why are you saying those things?"

Aventurine has never seen you cry. Not once. Not even when he had to punish you for running away. You could be weak and beaten, but you never willingly cried. But now...

He raises a hand to cover his smile.

"I thought... I thought you of all people would understand." Tears drop to your lap and your hand lowers the gun from your temple. "The pain, the humiliation of being a slave, of being owned. It doesn't matter how nice you are to me. I just want to be free. Shouldn't that be enough?"

Silence overtakes the room as Aventurine takes in the unfamiliar sight before him. Here you were, his greatest treasure, the most vulnerable than you ever were. Sobbing and weeping with a gun in hand, the pressure of the bet finally getting to you.

He moves. "... So this is it? For your pride?"

You wince, looking at him in betrayal. "You... I thought you of all people would at least understand..." You stay silent, the words forming on your tongue but too afraid to sound them out. Then your expression twists into anger, then resolute determination, before you wipe away your tears and glare at him like you always did. "I was wrong. You're scum. Just like the rest of 'em."

The moment the head of the gun points at his head, the collar clamps down and chokes you till your throat cracks and bleeds. The current of electricity crackling your nerves is just as painful and torturous as last time, but you grit your bloodied teeth and press the gun further.

Aventurine looks dazed, staring up into your bloodied face. If you weren't in such agonizing pain you would have laughed at how stupid he looks.

"[Y. Name]..."

"I hope you go to hell," you hiss through the bloody pain. "And I hope that when I get there, I'll never have to fucking see you again."

You pull the trigger to that beautiful face of his, but nothing happens once again. Fuck. It falls to the ground as the pain overwhelms you and you finally stagger. It lays among the specks of blood on the carpet, along with its empty... case...

Your eyes flick to Aventurine, still caught off guard and staring at you with wide eyes. Hesitantly, he reaches out to your convulsing body and cradles your head. "[Y. Name]..." He says, still sounding dazed. "Why would you..."

"Fuckin'... coward..." You grit out. "I was right... from the very start..."

Aventurine watches as you succumb to the pain and collapse in his arms. Despite being unconscious, the collar continues to shock and choke you, and more and more blood spouts from the side of your mouth and into the carpet. He tries to wipe it, despite it continuing like a fountain, before giving up and stroking your hair as the pain continues to intrude on you in your sleep.

"I know," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your eyelid. "You know it as well as me." He presses a kiss onto the other.

"You were never a bet I was willing to wager."

[youngwonhui]

✦ flying saucer

*•. member: hansol vernon chwe x fem! readers

*•. summary: universe conspire misery to love company. Hansol has his own fight within himself, you with your own. The probability is the spark that fuse the end of your night with the start of Hansol’s morning.

*•. genre: smut, MINORS SHOO, car sex, no protection, DONT DO THIS

*•. wc: 6705

*•. warnings: slight angst, depiction of failed dreams and overall feeling of being trapped, but they know better, they will do better, alcohol consumption, petty banter

*•. cross posted in AO3

Hansol loves his life.

He makes music, he do what he loves for a living, and he gets to party basically every night in the sake of getting inspiration.

As much as inspiration he could get from frequenting a club basically managed by his music label.

He practically knows everyone.

The bouncer, the bartender on shift, the cooks and even the valet driver.

Because one thing that Hansol loves from his work is it’s enabling him to fulfill his desire for anything money can buy.

Mostly.

“Alone again?”

Hansol laughs bitterly after a sip of whiskey. He’s immune to Mingyu’s teasing. beacuse who’s he to call Hansol bitchless when the man walk in alone just like every other night.

The same fluorescent lights running against the surface. Music blasting the latest pop or edm beats that runs like white noise to Hansol and his friends.

Yet they return like moths to flame.

Although Hansol hoped someday there’s something pull himself away and let him see the world apart of the flame.

As much as he loves to make generic music like his label has forced him to, the artist gene passed down from his father runs strongly through his veins. As much as he hated to admit it.

“You know you should look at the mirror.” The music blasting doesn’t deter Mingyu’s annoyingly exceptional hearing ability.

The tallest of the bunch throw a piece of grape to Hansol. His tumbler of whiskey already empty.

“At least one of us can get laid. You both has no right to bicker with each other.” Wonwoo quipped. Choosing to break his silence to manage the two for causing him more headache.

“I don’t know how you manage to find time time to drink with us every night? Aren’t you busy strategizing something on your little computer?”

Hansol earned himself a side eye from Wonwoo. From across, Mingyu who already topped up his whiskey glances at Hansol and Wonwoo interestingly. Something to distract his mind about to start.

Despite their age, and how serious job they have, Hansol and his friends aren’t above petty fights. Some nights they have Seungcheol to break it off when things when out of hands.

But tonight, their oldest friend is tending to his personal love life. Leaving the self-proclaimed miserable bunch to their own device.

“Don’t forget you works on that ‘little computer’ of yours, making some kind beats that teenagers use to dance on tiktok.” Mingyu snickers in amusement. He rarely sees his roommate spits some roasts to the younger one. And with sobriety out of the equation, the petty fights became their choice of poison to pass time.

“You can laugh when you get that Michelin star dude. How many years has it? Oh yeah, countless. And only surrounded by fans yet not even a bib gourmand in sight for consolidation.”

“Ooh burns.” Wonwoo muttered after sucking his teeth and then hiding his smirk through sipping his whiskey he’s been nursing.

Mingyu on the other hand. The words hit past his funny bone and straight to his head and rattles around with each drop of alcohol circulating around his brain. Fueling the gremlin that burns self-hate every now and then.

“That’s far out, Choi Vernon.”

Maybe it’s the darn place. The perfect mixture of darkness, noise, and lack of oxygen altogether. It wipes logical conversation out of the equation. Not that there’s many come to the club to do that. Most arrive with few things in mind. To distract them from it, or just numb it altogether.

Tomorrow when the friends see each other, contrition will be expressed with clearer minds. For now, its burning embers that spread uncontrollably.

Hansol decided he didn’t have enough alcohol in his body to fight with the people he can calls brother. A slight sick feeling in his stomach, not from the few sips of whiskey is enough to create a nauseous feeling in his mouth.

With a shake of his head and a bitter laugh, Hansol decided to step out for air. Maybe starts smoking, drive his beloved car, or just get some smoothie. Anything to calm his temper.

Climbing up the stairs, the fading out sound of drum and bass lowers his heartbeat just a smidge. Hansol thought to himself, maybe a drive with a window down will be enough.

The damp street outside greets him like an annoying gum sticking to his shoes. But the cold air hitting his face is painfully freezing. Hansol pulls up the hood of his jacket. His own decision to cut his hair short begins to feels like a regret.

But that one afternoon the thought cross his mind feels like the idea of a lifetime.

Fishing the valet ticket, Hansol handed it to absentmindedly.

“Hey bud, i don’t think i could hand you your key.”

That steals Hansol’s attention to you. The valet driver clad in your uniform but covered in a jacket to fight off the violent wind.

“It’s my car.” Hansol states matter-of-factly. Hand remained mid-air the wind hitting the valet ticket as it flaps against his fingers.

“Well you’ve been drinking. And i have obligation.”

“Your only obligation is kinda just to bring my car around though.” The regret came as quick as turning winds. Hansol notices how your face turns with a little disdain. Your body angled slightly away from Hansol as if the vicinity alone is repulsing to your body.

“You know what, i would let you knock yourself out. But i pity the beautiful car too much for you have to let it became a wreck.” Your fingers kept the key close to you. Far enough not to let Hansol snatch it from your grip.

“That flying saucer? I have a few in my garage.” Hansol scoffed. Squinting against the winds that picked up once more. You also tightened the jacket around your body.

Seeing you in clothes other than your uniform caught him slightly off guard. Hansol usually sees you when he dropped off his car. But rarely sees you when he walked out.

Maybe because usually Hansol has lost his own bearing when he stepped out of the club. Gets dragged out of the institution and responsibly driven back home by one of his friend or someone kind enough to call the service driver instead.

You scoffed at Hansol’s bragging remark. The better part of you decided that amusing Hansol’s banter does not worth the time and you should just handed him the keys and get yourself home.

Your shift ended moments ago.

Yet the other side is enjoying the time spent arguing with the famous music producer with selection of sports car you could only dreamed of.

As much as painful to hear Hansol disregard such beautiful car you came to admire, you caught how he acknowledge the nickname the special edition Alfa Romeo. Yet you doubt that Hansol appreciated it enough.

The sentiment might apply for some other aspect in his life too.

You known him for awhile, even before you bumped into him when he’s a new hot producer in town and you’re just taking gigs as valet driver because your latest rally team tanked.

Hansol was drunk out of his mind when you drove him home that first night. His friend, Wonwoo had kindly directed you to Hansol’s apartment.

“I doubt that you have another special edition car manufactured by Italian brand in collaboration with famous coachbuilder from back in the ‘50s.”

“An Italian wha-“ your words might have both stumped Hansol and amused him at the same time. A frown growing on his brows is accompanied by the slight curve of his smile. “You know what, keep the key. Keep the car safe, i’ll just walk home.” Hansol chuckled one last time before turning on his heels. Facing the cold wind of the night as he leaves you stumped in return.

A power move on his side.

But a dumb one as he remembers his house is not within a brief walking distance. His legs will be screaming halfway through. Hansol might have to take a break of nap on a park bench. Maybe at dawn by the looks of things.

No one truly recognizes themselves this night.

Words turned bitter, alcohol doesn’t work as it used to, bad decision was made one after the other.

And you are not an exception tonight. Because why are you, instead of slotting the keys to the beautiful car back to its drawer begin to walk to the direction where the car is parked in the valet area.

Turning on the keys in the ignition and feeling the machine rumble and its vibration purrs right into the expensive leather under your ass. The rush of adrenaline is pumping faster as you move the gear and begin to pull away from the lot.

A smile crept up on your face. The feeling of control under your palm, and the security of freedom lays on the empty street illuminated by moonlight and scarce neon from the shops that are closing for the night.

With a quick scan of the surrounding, you found Hansol’s hunched figure walking along the pavement. Slowing down to match his pace and lowering the window to face the rightful owner of the car you’re technically stealing right now.

“You’re stealing my car.” It was supposed to be a question, but Hansol‘s amusement outgrows his confusion. Yet the fact remained.

“Wrong, i’m driving you home.”

“Y/n you’re in my car with its key and engine running, and i’m outside being slapped by the wind.”

“Amazing observation skill.”

“I am quite literally sober now.” Hansol deadpanned. Waving the hands inside his jacket pocket. “And you’re still stealing my car. The fact stands”

“Then get in and i’ll drive you home.”

Wordlessly, Hansol feet takes him off the pavement and enters his own car’s passenger’s seat. Begrudgingly so, but an amused smirk grew upon how his night panned out.

“You know your friend let me drive you home sometimes.” You begins. It didn’t surprise him a bit.

Because sitting in his own car’s passenger seat and you on the steering wheel doesn’t felt uncomfortable at all. His sobriety being the biggest change is all. Somehow Hansol doesn’t have the confident to talk to you in this state.

He can embarrass himself when alcohol is running through his veins. Doing stupid shit and relying on other’s good-willing heart to help a miserable man.

Being sober and driven home by you sets Hansol an impossible standard of being a decent human being. A rapport he has to keep after picking a fight with his close friends back at the club.

“Thanks.” Hansol muttered.

You reply with a hum. Skilfully driving his car like it’s rightfully yours.

“Do you even know what car is this?”

“Nu uh.” Hansol couldn’t be bothered to think.

He got offered the car as a payment from an old acquaintance that appreciated his music back in the day. Being young and glittery eyes thinking every form of payment is cool enough for the ‘experience’.

“That’s what i thought.” Hansol chuckled at your reply. “The car is barely taken care of. No offense but this kind of antique car needs all the love and pampering to not let it deteriorate. All the checkup maybe every three months if you want to be diligent. I can give you a number of my friend’s autoshop. They’re magic at old cars. Aston Martin, McLaren, you name it.”

“I know you’ll send it to me anyway.”

“You know what? i’m surprised you saved my number.” There’s many surprises for you tonight.

“I might be a jerk, but i’m a grateful jerk.” Hansol looks out to the window. The passing lights of the city which he love and hate at the same time.

“Don’t expect me to hand you a medal for being grateful.”

Hansol always love when you never cut him some slack. Not the way his friends always tolerate his acts whenever Hansol needs to blow off some steam. Seungcheol though never forget to reminds him to take care of himself properly. And Hansol always absentmindedly agrees, yet returning to the club like he has nowhere else to go. ”Hey can you drive me to the hill park instead?”

“It’s 2 AM, and you’re starting to make me regret driving you home.” You sighed. Yet Hansol recognize the turn you take to reach the destination he just mentioned on a whim.

“You shouldn’t have steal my car then.” Hansol turns to you who gave him a side eye briefly and returned to focus on the road uphill.

“I kinda prefer when you’re almost passed out off a thousand bucks whiskey if you continues like this.”

“You prefer anytime you can drive my car. That much is i know.” Hansol crossed his arms and shifts on his seat to continues to look at you driving.

“Ha, that much is right. I love this car the most though.” You jokingly shot Hansol a look. Fishing a playful banter from him that you had surprisingly enjoy despite the prolonged night activity.

“I am not giving you this car.”

“Dude you said it yourself you have a ton in your garage, i know you don’t care about this beauty one bit and i’m half convinced you don’t even know the name of this car.”

“Why’s it only half?” You shot Hansol a confused frown at his question. “Why are you only half convinced that i don’t know the name of this car.” Hansol doesn’t know why he’s asking such. How your perspective of him piqued his interest at 2 AM when you both in a brief impromptu roadtrip.

“I don’t know. Hope for the better? If you don’t know jackshit then i should’ve known better.”

Hansol can hear your chuckle. The hum of engine serve as enough background to fill the silence. He couldn’t find any appropriate words to talk to you. Too scared to ruin the perfect moment. A rare silence where Hansol doesn’t feel too much of self-deprecation and guilt is not eating his heart.

The fact that his antique sports car that you love is not accommodating enough space for a sound system, that also one supporting fact of the silence.

For once, Hansol didn’t hate said fact.

“You know you call it a flying saucer earlier.” Your voice breaks the silence eventually. “I thought hey, maybe you’re not that ignorant and have some inkling of appreciation of this car.”

A chuckle escapes his lips. A shake of his head upon remembering his own words from just a moments ago. Amazes himself when you can look past him being a jerk and actually listens to his words.

“Disco volante.”

“Aha, so you do know your cars.” The small lilt of realization in your words amuses him more.

“Not as much affinity as you, but i appreciate the beauty.”

Your eyes are sets ahead, beside you, Hansol said the words with his eyes clearly pointed towards you. As clear as the night sky with its twinkling stars.

The same sky they about to witness in a few moments as they reach the destination. The park placed strategically on the side of hill road. The perimeter of said park with enough secluded parking lot that overlooking the city.

Once you arrive, you’re quick to turn off the car and leave Hansol to his own device. He sees you walking ahead and leaned against the hood of the car. Hansol sucks in his breath and contemplate his thoughts. Decided to follow the strange energy that has been flowing ever since he steps out of the club and remained sober as you drove him.

Closing the door behind him, Hansol joins you to sit on his car. Glad that the wind isn’t as violent as earlier.

“Why are we all ended up at that place?”

You didn’t even mention the club as context, yet Hansol knows exactly what you meant. The disdain in your tone isn’t hard to discern. Yet he understands completely of what you‘re feeling.

It’s easy for him, each time he sees you sheer admiration for the cars that frequent the club. But each experience often tarnished by some rude clientele that’s insecure of their own self.

“It’s be quite miserable if we all can’t help it. But it cheers me up to see much of us so alike ended up the day there.”

“Misery loves company.”

“Yeah you could say that.” Hansol chuckled as he glances at you.

“I shouldn’t have take too many shifts there. Use my driving skill for something better.” You muttered, looking down at your worn out shoes. Kicking small unassuming pebbles. “Should i start crowdfunding for my rally car?”

Hansol chuckles, sniffing through the cold air. He rakes his brain for the memory of you.

He remembers the first time he met you. Paying you extra bucks to take Mingyu’s freshly bought Z4 on a joyride.

You are not one to brag of your skill, but Hansol was daring your side that often lives off of adrenaline. You take him on that offer before upping the ante to take the BMW on a donut at the empty valet floor of the club.

The laughs resounding at the end of that night filled his memory and he boxed it in a prettier ribbon than others. Strangely he hate himself less that day. Although the slight disappointment is apparent when at the end of the night, he exchange his valet ticket to another guy and not you.

He regretted his decision to ended up going home sober that night.

“How long has it been since you last race?” Your quick chuckle came as a reply. A shake of your head as if you really trying to pushed the thought away.

“Awhile now. No one is really funding for an undermanaged team barely have people to make a semblance of a rally car. I don’t know, my driving skills are probably rusty anyway after the team went under.”

“Hey, you want a rally car with my name as a sponsor?” Hansol’s word sent you laughing between your contemplating thought. “I’ll fund your car but you have to put my name. And i want it huge.”

The incredulous look with a side eye is enough to make Hansol almost topple over laughing.

“I mean as long as you’re funding me, i’ll welcome it. But i wouldn’t accept anything inappropriate.” Your words stop Hansol mid-laugh. Looking at you, as it determining whether the seriousness in your face will slowly fade and reveals your usual playful nature.

“Huh, you’re surprisingly civil of the idea.”

“Although, i also don’t want anything repulsive. So no placing your face on my car as well.” You ended up laughing while Hansol now in turn rolling his eyes.

He relaxes himself beside you. Gaze upfront to the still sparkling city although dawn almost break. Hansol took the serenity and odd silence of it all.

To no one’s surprised, the two of you retreated back into the car. The strong gusts of wind have picked up after the long silence of stargazing.

“Bet you didn’t thought the night would end up like this huh?” Hansol muttered, a small chuckle as he turned to you. Curious over your response.

“More like, i didn’t know i even would start another day with you.” You look back to Hansol. Seat leaned back and a casual relaxed looks on his face. Strangely enough, seeing Hansol in his passenger seat staring back at you is an odd sensation that spark an even stranger chemicals in your brain.

“What is so bad about it?”

Hansol whispers, you avert your eyes to the horizon afar. The dark void welcomes your sight, but soon discernible tinge of purple will fill the sky and morning will arrive.

Sunlight won’t arrive as fast as the nervous energy that burns through your vein. The long night is enough to take you to place you’d never thought would venture.

“I mean, i can make you a list to make things feel better.”

“Hmm, a list?” You nodded to Hansol‘s reply, an addition of smirk on his face. Piqued by the the slight enthusiasm in your words. “And what is on that list, pray tell?”

“Well, i could come over there to show it to you. I think that would be better.”

Hansol smirked, bit his lower lip before nodding towards his lap.

With as much grace as your body could manage, wriggling across the console of a vintage sports car, you eventually sat on top of Hansol. You had to admit, the enclosed—minimum space has heightened your senses towards your surrounding.

How the old leather left a scent reminding you of worn your out racing glove with a tinge of musk from Hansol’s body scent. You can smell it clearer now that he’s under your touch.

The short hair he’s sporting reveals the slight brownish glow to his hair. Which you always thought as dark midnight. Under the minimal light of blinking lamppost outside, you can discern the lighter glow of it.

You ran your hand across his head. To which Hansol’s eyes followed the movement of your hand, but quickly flutters close as he felt your touch.

When your hand rest on his cheek, you guide Hansol’s hovering hands to your hips. Which he shuddered upon contact.

You only chuckled lightly.

“Bet you didn’t thought the night would end up like this huh?” Hansol shakes as he laugh.

You reciting the exact words with the closeness the two of you are having now has tickled his funny bone.

Might also gave him one more bone.

“I know it could be better though.” Hansol scans your face, a smile shadowing his lips as he thought about what he wanted as of now.

The same one mirrored on your face. More like a grin. Recognizing the feeling from Hansol, now so palpable as he absentmindedly rubbing your still clothed thighs.

“You could be kissing me, for example.”

”I guess i’m not one to deny anyone of good example.”

“Please.”

You grin. Leaning down to press your lips to Hansol’s awaiting ones. It was brief a touch of lips on lips. Until Hansol’s entire nervous systems eventually sparked off and responded when you’re about to pull away from the kiss.

Hansol’s hand had traveled to your nape and gently pulls you back to a kiss. Now with a hunger he had unknowingly concealed throughout the night.

A tug on your lower lips lets you hum in reply, rushing the pleasure through your vein. Hansol skilfully took your lips between his teeth and lets you fight for what you want.

Maybe at this point what you both want.

As the kiss grew sloppier, Hansol tugged your body flush to his. A groan at the back of his throat resounding to your lips as you grind yourself to his tenting crotch.

“Fuck— Y/n.”

You didn’t let Hansol speak no more. Guiding his lips back to yours while his hands roamed your body. Familiarizing each plane and shape, memorizing the expanse of skin available to his touch.

His response spur your action more. After the initiative grinding, you angled yourself to continue the motion of even faster. The friction of your clothed cunt against the growing bulge under Hansol’s expensive jeans. It felt childish, grinding like a high school kids chasing the newfound pleasure in each others.

But you both said no complain, Hansol enjoyed all you can give. Although it left him wanting more, but he could not complain of how his shitty night has ended up.

Don’t mess this up. Don’t mess this up. Don’t mess this up.

The words uttered like mantra inside Hansol’s head.

The moments passed with you growing more and more desperate for the hot burning pleasure in your vein. Deciding that dry-humping Hansol has lost its novelty and you searched for more.

In hurried hands, you tried to rid of your clothings.

“Help me Hansol.”

Fuck, she said my name.

“Uh- huh yeah.” Naturally Hansol stuttered.

Your shirt’s buttons are off. Exposing your entire torso, and Hansol didn’t hesitate to grace the newly exposed skin with a kiss. You smiled at the look of awe in his face before diving in.

He’s of no help yet you ain’t complaining.

As much as you love the Alfa Romeo, the interior of the two seater are not fully accommodating to the shenanigans you both about to embark.

You just felt thankful you’re not doing this with Hansol when he’s driving the Ferrari Spider. Exhibitionism is not on your list of kinks. Yet.

You bring Hansol’s lips back to you. Silencing the mumble his lips waste as the pleasure runs faster than his mind could comprehend. Your touch roamed the freshly trimmed buzzcut.

Hansol has managed to hid the result of his drunken shenanigan under his hoodie. In embarrassment after Seungcheol has gathered the group of friends and lectured them about enabling behaviour under influence.

Speaking under influence. Hansol has a smidge feeling that your touches has gotten him so. He felt half embarrassed that he just sat there and let you do all the works. Once his focus return to the present, he had found you rid of your pants and only leaving you sat on his lap with only your panties.

“FUck.” Was the only thing he muttered before his lips dive to devour your nipple. His hands roamed across the expose skin of your back and fiddle with the material of your flimsy underwear. He thought he might have to rid of it, feeling the damp wetness had reached into his own pants.

The rush of pleasure got you arching your back and revel at the mixture of pain and pleasure from Hansol’s ministration. You don’t know how long you can hold on until it’s not enough.

“Vernon-” You rarely called him by his middle name. He did not regret making it his stage name, but it became too familiar in the lips of the crowd. And the sound of ‘Hansol’ from your lips felt different and some kind of special too.

Now though, listening to the name Vernon adorned with the sigh and your little needy noise has just upped the ante in Hansol’s level of pleasure. He’d felt embarrassed because most of it is just you and the millions way you called his name. Through your lips and paired with the smile he had secretly adored but fear to admitted.

“Tell me what you want, please.” Hansol managed to mumble amidst grazing your shoulder and neck with kisses. His hands gripping your hips tighter. He needed so much but he just wanted you to say that you truly want this.

In slight annoyance and with displeased grunt, you pulls away a little but your hands remained circled onto Hansol’s neck. Your questioning gaze quickly snapped him into pumping blood to his brain, jolting it to work some sort of reasoning he knew he had, but his mind too clouded with having you on his lap.

“U-uh, i want this, i want you, believe me. I just don’t want things became awkward between us after this.” Hansol eyes ricochet among the micro movement of your expression. He didn’t regret saying all that. Now the jolt of anticipation now swirling in the pit of his stomach.

“We’re all adult here Hansol. I promise things won’t get awkward.”

In a clouded judgement, Hansol nodded to your promise. A tall shield of things you had chosen to left unsaid.

His hand flew to cup your face, bringing it down to close the gap between your lips. Desperate touches return and roamed your back. Hansol coaxed a moan and groan from you. Prompting your lips to open and eventually did so.

Your idle hands work blindly to unbuckle his jeans. Meanwhile Hansol’s tongue explore your mouth in careless abandon. Enjoying the jolt of pleasure you brought just from sucking his tongue. He fear for himself of what you’ll be capable of doing with your mouth.

Hansol gaze at you in confusion. You pulled away and took one look at the state he’s in. Drunk in something else than alcohol. Such a sight you had pitifully missed during the long time you had known him.

Hansol’s bubble of confusion ia quickly burst when you did an experimental stroke from the base to the tip of his cock. He moaned. Head thrown back to the old leather headrest as the pleasure run its course. Thrumming under his clammy skin with you in a proximity of needing to meld your skin to his.

He welcomes it all. Groaning your name like a prayer as you keep your hand pumping his cock. Red and ready. You keep your breath steady. Savouring the sight of Hansol completely surrendering himself into your hand. It clenched your heart a little, but you know that you couldn’t have it any other way.

To scratch the itch, you close your lips back to his opened mouth. Teeth almost clashing but Hansol is quick to catch your lips back to his. Reciprocating the euphoric dizziness that swims around his head.

Unable hold on any longer you unceremoniously sank down the length of Hansol’s cock. Sighing in pleasure once the fullness has put on a haze of abandon in your nerve.

Certainly making your guilt felt lighter. Just at this moment.

Hansol tightened his clutch back to your hips. He wants to chase his own release by slamming his cock up to your cunt with no regards. Paying no mind towards your own pleasure.

But he held back.

The sight of his cock disappeared into your warm enveloping wall as you bounced on his lap is worth enough to let Hansol stay put and put you on the wheel.

“Fuck, Hansol-“ you uttered hoarsely. Drowning in sensation of being fucked full. Hansol’s cock hitting enough spot that shakes your nerve ending every time you drop down to his lap for more.

Its warm, no, burning with engulfing fire of desire, as you exert every strength in your legs to bring your cunt down and chase the highest form of pleasure. Clenching the headrest behind Hansol’s head, you muttered incoherent words straight to his ears. An encouragement as Hansol helps to keep the pace. Knowing that your thighs probably shot.

The strong arms slid alongside your thighs and took over. You slumped forward a little, letting Hansol planted bruising kisses over the plane of your chest while his hands control the movement of the sloppy pace of his cock disappearing into your cunt.

You know he’s close. Hansol’s kisses stuttered. Lips agape and planted just for him to groan. Puffs of his hot breath hitting your skin. You’ve had your legs shaking for a while. The strings of pleasure taut in your stomach, as Hansol kept his cock pounding restlessly. Gravity is his best friend.

Your grip moved from the headrest to the base of Hansol’s neck. The unraveling jolt of pleasure break open the dam as you shudder through the orgasm. Flashes of white came to your view as you clutch harder to Hansol’s skin. Red marks visibly bloom on his skin. Eliciting a groan from Hansol as you unknowingly also tighten your vice around Hansol’s cock. Walls contracting from pleasure of his girth.

“Oh fuck- Y/n you’re coming so hard i almost bust.” Hansol muttered lowly. Sounded half muted in your buzzing ears. The slow rush of your orgasm clouded your senses in a burst of euphoric pleasure.

You haven’t realized Hansol was fighting for his life under your touch. The vein in his hand bulging as he kept the pace steady amidst your orgasm. Now, fully locked in you push your thighs once more. Bouncing up and down the length of Hansol’s cock in a new vigour.

The man throw his head back in the newfound pleasure. You smirk at the state he’s in. Taking in the rush of power you hold over him. Haven’t care less about your panties that only had pushed aside to let his cock slid in.

The sound of skin hitting one another, with a steady squelching sound of your cunt slapping into his balls. Almost too lewd for you but seeing Hansol’s expression and the pleasure you just came through felt fitting.

“Come on Hansol, i know you’re close.”

He groaned, then his lips morphed into a smirk. Partly in disbelief on how the situation has panned out between you and him. Beads of sweat forming as proof how you had him just within a hand clutch.

Pushing aside how his hand is partly numb, the sight of your marked up tits bouncing along as you fucking yourself into his cock is enough to let him burst. Hansol tighten his hold on to your waist and his hips raised to push into you one more time. Low groan filling the fogged up car as Hansol cum inside you. A few sloppy thrust just to drive it home.

You slumped into Hansol’s shoulder in a little fits of giggle. Hansol’s whole body shook. Jolted you back into upright position as your hands cupped the side of his face. You savour the sight of Hansol one more time. The faint marks of freckle adorned his face. The little scar barely visible under his eyebrow and the faint mark of his smile by the corners of his eyes. The same one which studied your every movement.

Hansol gaze up to you in an unimaginable feelings. Sets deep into his stomach as your face remain a perfect picture of sunshine. Hansol cannot bear to look at you long enough, lest he wanted to blind himself.

Hansol memories ran back to your promise, that it wont get awkward between the two of you. He hold it as close he’s able near his heart. He couldn’t know the fact that you are leaving the establishment.

After the sun rose high enough, Hansol drove you to your place. More like he dropped you into the closest block you had allowed him to. Insisting that you wanted to walk for the rest. Passing by Mingyu’s little restaurant. Hansol had recognize the building, the cozy place that had people flocking by to have a taste of the hottest chef meticulously crafted meals.

Hansol reminded himself to say sorry to him, lest that he want their next meeting to be awkward. Now that he paid enough attention, there’s a green Aston Martin Dbx parked outside. Hansol doesn’t remembered Mingyu getting one recently.

You stood outside Hansol’s car until he awkwardly wave to you and eventually drove away.

Truly you had kept your words. Things would not get awkward between the two of you. Because how could it be when you no longer work at the club.

You had submitted your resignation weeks ago. Last night, or morning had been your last shift at the club. You have had a sliver of plan, but something about having experienced broken dream had gotten you to push back trying again and had resorted to you picking up valet shifts at the club.

Now, you try again. Going to the rally cars meet-up and feeling out clubs that you deem fit with you.

Leaving the club, it had nothing to do with Hansol. Staying there though. He played a part of your pushed back dream.

Until one night, that had prolonged into morning. Then him dropping you a few blocks away from your home.

But Hansol didn’t really know that. He had excitedly turn to the familiar way to the club. Driving his Alfa Romeo, but the valet driver who welcomes him is a new face he didn’t recognize. Later at night, he had kept his sobriety, and half hoping you would emerge from his car. But met with the same face of the new valet driver.

“Where is Y/n? Is she not working tonight?” He eventually asks. Car door opened and the new valet driver stare back at Hansol.

“She’s gone. I’m her replacement.”

Hansol drove to his home in a bewildering state. Parked right beside the dusty Lamborghini, Hansol sat defeated by the fact you had lied. Or maybe not. Because how could things became awkward when the two of you would not meet again?

A laughter bubbled in his throat. Defeat tastes funny in his tongue. And bitter at the same time. Yet funny. So Hansol laughed until his legs felt numb for sitting in his car for too long.

Hansol had tried to accept the fact that he barely had any tangible memories of you to feel this betrayed. Yes, he had named the feeling as betrayal. His friends laughed amusingly, but none with surprise. They had bore witness to the weird dynamic between the two.

They’re either became sworn enemy of a destined lover. Either way one was obsessed with each other, yet unknown of how to channel such energy.

Wonwoo had offered he knew a few rally club just around the city. If you continues your dream, that’s probably where you would start.

Hansol had laughed and pushed the offer away.

Until he got drunk that night, and Wonwoo, who is sober had drove him home. The F1 strategist is met with a drunken plea of the old offer.

\\

“Good news, we might be able to afford the new spare engine that won’t bust at finish line.”

Your ears perked up, putting down the damp cloth you had wiped your sweat with.

Race days rarely had unexpected news, other than regarding the race itself. But the day had been long and after streak of mediocre result within a sweltering summer season, a news of sponsor willing to take your team to another level was a breeze of much needed fresh air.

You were breathless off of your morning run. Going straight to the office that had connected straight to the garage where your car sit pretty. You have been complaining of needing a boost of power to might be able to feel the glory of a podium place. But the tightrope of balancing result and minimum sponsor have been hanging around your team all the same.

“That’s a very good news.” You paused to take a sip of a drink. “But why do i feel that there’s a bad news there.” You quipped curiously. Your team manager sheepishly scratch his temple in a mixture of confusion and blind hopefulness.

You notices it. Knowing full well the extend of deliverables that had to be given just have an extra cash to afford some basic things.

Although such basic things like an engine might cost above hundreds thousands.

“Come on spit it out what do the sponsor wants? a product placement? or their logo in every surface of our garage in each race?” You huffed tiredly. Both from physical fatigue and the familiar rodeo of receiving a sponsor with their ridiculously absurd request.”

“They want a decal of a face on the hood of the car.”

You blinked. A wash of reality shone over you. A feeling that guised as regrets but took form more like a guilt sparked in your chest. It wrapped taut against your heart.

“It’s not odd about wanting sponsor branding on the car. But a face?” Your team manager still in the pit of confusion only grew more so when they see you slowly smile. A bitter one at that. “I ask their team about setting up the meeting, but the representative only told me to ask you first. What do you think?”

You went silent for a while. Shaking your head at the childish behaviour happening in your very much serious garage. Then again, you were the childish one for disappearing without proper goodbye. Deep down you know you deserved this. Hansol was kind and humorous enough to not hunt you down in hate.

For that you could thank him. Maybe right after you ask for forgiveness. Either way you couldn’t avoid it much further.

“Tell them we should meet.” You said in confidence, maybe a slight anticipation. “So i can tell the sponsor myself i’m civil to all of his idea.”

a/n: this will be a part of sports car series, but i’ll organize it later akshabaj

[thedarkestrivernymph]

"Oh, my Darling.."

Yandere! f! Soldier x f! Mermaid! Reader

warnings: mentions of war, slight possessiveness, gullible reader

Coldness was all she had known her entire life.

Merciless winds had swept over her and left a myriad of destruction in their wake. All her miserable existence had been filled with picking up the remaining salvageable pieces of herself, mending them together so that she could continue to face the enemy on the battlefield.

Only at some point even that had lost its meaning, and she sometimes found herself wondering who the real enemy was—if slaughtering all these men and women was truly worth it, if the crown even deserved such power and land to its name.

Perhaps that’s why she had wandered off after another blow to her face and after knocking out her opponent with the end of her sword, instead of slicing open his throat to paint the earth an even richer red—perhaps, but she wasn’t sure now. She couldn’t be sure when everything in her ached for an escape from the pressure building up in her skull, the throbbing agony that pulsed in her nose all the way up to behind her eyelids, blurring her sight.

Her thoughts swirled like wine would mingle with water when it met, mixing, resulting in the wine to taste dire—god how she hated the countless cheap taverns her and her comrades had to stay in, with women circling around the other soldiers—sometimes whores other times cheating wives, or even bright-eyed girls tantalized by a charm she herself just had never felt; what was so great about men anyways? They fucking stunk, could never shut up contrary to popular belief and—

Maybe she was getting delirious, because why else would she step into something cool and wet and why else would she welcome the biting cold that engulfed her and that eased the blooming ache in her temples. And why else would she not fight against her airways being flooded as her armor dragged her down to accompany all the other skeletons at the bottom of the pond.

“Fuck” was the first coherent sound that left her scarred mouth after coughing up a seemingly endless stream of water onto the patch of grass beneath her palms, dripping wet—just how much has she swallowed? If she had known that her entire chest would’ve be put aflame with needle-like pricking pain—she sure as heck would’ve ensured to properly drown or never would’ve stepped foot into that fucking shithole, with how much junk was thrown into such ponds and rivers and drunk soldiers would miss and piss in there and—

“Are you a man?” her ramblings were cut short again as you—whatever you were—was staring up at her with the brightest two eyes she had ever seen. Suddenly she seemed stone cold sober from the daze that near death would y’know, usually bring with it. Just what—what were you? You were blue for fuck’s sake!

But one thing was certain— you were the prettiest face she had ever seen, that's for darn sure, with how your big soulless eyes stared up at her like the filets on her plate and even your mouth gaped open like them too, with fins to stick out from between slick strands of hair, not to mention the cute tilt of your head. God, she could squeal.

“Are you man?” you asked again, now prodding at her leg with a webbed finger, confusion plastered all over your face.

“Oh” Zian cleared her throat, stifling a chuckle as she shifted to sit on her arse, the same one that had been subject to crude comments and had earned a few men some broken noses. “No, sweetie, I ain't no man.”

“So why you do—wear big metal?” you elaborated, your agitated tail flicking behind you in the water—the moon was at its full bloom and with the luminescent in the pond’s water you were fully illuminated and hod was it a feast for her eyes to watch your tongue twist uncomfortably and your alien features morph into a cute pout.

“Cuz’ I am a soldier, sweetheart. I fight. War, y’know that?” the brunette was quick to inform her new little companion cough you, while shivering, only then noticing how the night air bit into her skin.

Your eyes widened and it seemed as if even the crickets halted as you sunk further ito the water, concealing yourself more. “War? You fight?” You were panicking, retreating. No, fuck, hey you saved her you couldn't just disappear like that—

“Yeah, but that's a thing of the past now, sweets.” Zian was quick to jump up, waving her hands around as a sign that she was harmless. “You—you saved me, right? Do you like big metal? I can—wait, there!” god she was fumbling for any reason to make you stay.

The intimidatingly big man — ah no woman — she was holding a…actually you had no clue.

“Ta-ta a—spoon(?)” even she looked perplexed, staring down at what she had fished out from beneath her chest plate.

Had her mates played another prank on her because what the fuck man?!

“For me?” you muttered, pointing at yourself as you glided through the water to touch the pond’s edge, the blue glow making you look all the more ethereal up-close. Her gaze softened as you reached out a tentative hand, accompanied with a quick glance at her, as if she was about to just trap you like a hunter would capture a bunny.

As you let your odd-shaped fingers tap against the shiny metal, she couldn't help but sigh, certain that if any other soldier—if she were a man—you would have been in grave danger of being abducted and made into valuable coin or kept as a pet.

You were dazzling, it wasn't really anything specific about you and perhaps the fact that you had saved her played a part in her sudden newfound lust for life but it was just your dumb big eyes so foreign, a tad bit exotic, but just so vastly different from her own hardened gaze and her own soul that had lost its innocence after her first bloodshed. Just some sort of animal-human, part fish, as crazy as it was, you were probably one of the mermaids she had heard myths about her entire miserable life.

And she was for damn sure, that you wouldn't kill for the enjoyment of others, that you wouldn't let a woman on a throne with a crown tie you down—that’s was what probably drew her in to you.

You were just so free.

Celebrating over a spoon, chirping an odd tune, purring like a cat as you nudged her only to shyly and bashfully rest your chin on the grass to look up the tall woman—with no clear thought behind those dumb eyes of yours. So perplexingly trusting.

The brunette staring down at your sheepishly beaming face, so bright-eyed and naive, she felt like a god that stared down at one of its creatures and smiled to herself—smiled for the first time in years. She would protect you, she swore in that exact moment. For the rest of her days to come and pass, Zian would be your knight in a shining armor—she was ready to slit anyone’s throat, if they dared to hurt something as precious as you. You were practically an animal after all, and she found herself in the role of the dutiful civilian that would take a stray and look after them. You were her stray now.

“Don’t worry ‘lass. I will look after you now. I can get you a lot more of these.” her finger pointed at the spoon and you immediately let your fin splash water at her in a show of excitement.

“So cute.” Zian could only chuckle softly. “You will be safe now, little fish. I am here now. You saved me and now no man or woman will ever hurt you—we will be friends.” she spoke all those big words laced with subtle foreshadowing that was lost on you because of the language barrier—nevertheless you flashed her another grin, another show of affection so sweet her heart melted like hot metal.

Her hand reached out to tentatively pat your head like a dog.

“Yeah, let’s be best friends.”

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

[foodiegoogie]

parallel paths can collide | 1.2k

part one of two people met once | a two-part remus lupin x fem!reader mini series

summary: remus lupin's life in a nutshell, how he met you, and what his present looks like after.

cw/tags: nsfw themes, mdni. remus-centric pov, mild angst, remus is a little lonely. inspired, again, by one day (the series). lmk if i missed any <3

Remus Lupin has long since learned how to be independent. 

If you consider his childhood, being diagnosed with a chronic illness will teach you a lot of things: how to be taken care of, how to feel guilty because of it, how to make sure you’re fine because of the guilt, and so on. Remus considers himself lucky that he’s got the best parents he could ever ask for in his life. He’s convinced they’re both his guardian angels in the hellish world he was born in. Anyway, that’s just his childhood in a nutshell.

Then came the time he hit puberty. He grew up expecting to be the picturesque teenage boy, only to let himself down with the consistent growth spurt and the lanky build he earned with it. Not to mention, his chronic illness that had him walking with a limp for most of his life at the time. But then came the three most important people in his life (aside from his parents, of course)—James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. When they formed their little group that had lasted all their years in high school, Remus was the happiest he had ever felt. 

Later on, amidst the mess that was applying for university, moving cities, enlisting in classes, and so on—he met you.

You were a sightly thing— you in your average clothing, hair a little messy with your headphones on. Remus didn’t even entertain the thought of approaching you, because who was he to do such a thing, anyway? Imagine his surprise, though, when he gets a tap on the shoulder—only to turn around and see you.

“Hi, sorry for the trouble. Do you know where I could find a restroom?” You asked him, eyes wide with hope. Hope—you were hoping that he knew the way to the girls’ restroom, duh. Remus had to remind himself that. It wasn’t like you were asking for his number or anything—

“Er,” He heard you chuckle awkwardly, your eyes flittering all over his face. “Excuse me? I was asking if you—”

“The restroom. Right,” Remus heard himself say. How foolish of him to just blatantly stare at you like some creep. “I can show you where that is.”

Truth is, he didn’t know where the restroom was either. It was his first time on campus, for Pete’s sake. But you had looked at him like he was the last resort, your savior in a grandpa jumper and corduroy trousers. So, naturally, he lent a hand where it was due.

He should’ve known—or perhaps, you both should’ve known that that would be the start of your many different encounters with each other. Not just on campus, but outside of university, too. But neither of you had predicted that the first time you had ever spoken to each other—would also be the seed that would plant the tree that is Remus’ relationship with you, branching out into missed opportunities, misunderstandings, miscommunications, and missing each other. 

・・・・・

Remus wakes up to another day in bed.

A deep sigh leaves his nose before he opens his eyes to the ceiling. The same darned ceiling he’s been waking up to since he moved out of home indefinitely. It’s creamy white when it’s sunny, but a sad blue when it’s gloomy.

This morning, it’s gloomy. So Remus stays in bed for a little while longer than usual. It’s not like he’s running late for work, and no one’s probably anticipating his arrival in the office today. Just the same routines, but a different day. 

He turns his head to his right, but he doesn’t even know why he does it. The bedside table’s on his left, where his phone and a glass of water laid waiting for him. But he’s doing it anyway, because it’s a reflex at this point. An instinct. Muscle memory, maybe. You used to be the first thing he woke up to—you in your bedhead, parted lips, a bit of dried drool on the corner of your mouth. What a sight you were to him. Remus has taken care to cherish it as a memory and discard it at the same time.

Back in university, after that first encounter he had with you, it was like you were suddenly everywhere he was. Remus might have thought that you were deliberately following him at some point, but he knew that that was too good to be true. So he concluded that it wasn’t.

All of a sudden, chance encounters at cafes turned into study sessions at the library. Then, study sessions turned into party invites and the occasional night out at the pub. One drunken game of spin-the-bottle turned into an alleyway make-out session, which led to regular hookups spent in neither Remus’ or your place. But in between so many shared experiences with each other, so many firsts and milestones shared, neither you nor Remus ever got brave enough to ask what it all meant.

But perhaps that was the thrill of it all—in not knowing what it all meant. Maybe there shouldn’t be anything to fear in the unknown, after all. 

Still, regrets will always await you at the end of your mistakes.

・・・・・

Remus likes to think that he has considerably matured ever since finishing his studies.

He was sorely mistaken, though. Old habits do die hard after all.

He was just going about his day at the office breakroom, minding his own business as he waited for his coffee to brew in the coffee pod machine. The thing about Remus is that when he thinks about something, he thinks hard. A particularly riveting post about a service dog who had valiantly saved his owner from a seizure by doing its job well had passed by on his screen. He taps on the video, expecting the drawn-out intro for suspense, and watches it. 

The machine beeps, making Remus straighten up from where he was leaning against the counter. Without taking his eyes off the screen—the dog’s running around his owner now, probably looking for medicine—he turns to grab his mug, only to crash shoulders with an unassuming colleague of his—

“Sorry! Sorry.”

Remus could identify that voice in a crowd. It’s you he bumped into.

“No, sorry. I– I wasn’t looking,” He tells you, eyes now away from the screen as he tucks his phone into his back pocket. 

You make eye contact with him for the briefest of moments, but Remus is abruptly shot with a vivid image of you beneath him just several nights ago. Your head on the pillow, hair splaying around it like a halo—like the goddess he believes you are. The softness of your skin pressed to his lips, the sounds he heard you make. 

Remus is on the job. He shouldn’t be thinking of his coworkers that way.

“You alright?” He asks you.

You clear your throat, stepping back like you were trying to put some distance between you both. “Yeah. Fine.”

Yep. Definitely putting some distance between you both.

“And you?” You ask him.

Remus pokes his tongue to the side of his cheek, nodding his head. “Yeah, m’good.”

“Good,” You reply, also nodding. “That’s… that’s good, then.”

“Yeah,” Remus smiles awkwardly, but it’s too small to consider that he was happy. “Good.”

It’s awkward. It’s painful. It’s painfully awkward. 

But it stings the man all the same when he finally musters up the courage to at least ask about your day, but you turn away from him with a muttered farewell, leaving the break room. 

So much for maturing.

next part >

[aliceramblez]

HSR Men Spending Valentine's Day With Their S/O 💌

Feat. Phainon, Aventurine, Jing Yuan, Sunday & Dan Heng!

Tags: GN!Reader & lots of fluff!

Happy belated Valentine's to all my besties out there who've been cursed with having the love of their life be a video game character T_T

Phainon

Doesn't have the slightest clue what Valentine's even is until you teach him. One of the downsides of living in a world disconnected from the rest of the cosmos, you suppose.

Rest assured though, once he gets the gist of it, he's showering affection all over you for everyone to see, much to your dismay.

He asks you to be his Valentine in the middle of Marmoreal Market, kneeling down and offering you a red rose as your face practically combusts from the grand gesture, all while people stop and mumble at the scene.

“P-Phainon, everyone's staring!”

“Of course they are, αγάπη μου. They can appreciate true beauty when they see it.”

Your room has been filled to the brim with presents of all kinds once you come back from training later in the day—flowers, desserts, trinkets, you name it and it's there. Tribbie actually complains to you, wishing you never told Phainon anything in the first place. You can take a guess as to who helped him set everything up.

Once he's done with his own duties, the Chrysos Heir visits you and is ready to take you out to have a romantic evening on the streets, but after seeing how exhausted he is, you can't help but giggle and suggest you stay in and cuddle instead. He's all for it.

“It's not much compared to everything you got me, but here you go.”

With Aglaea's help, you ended up weaving him a new tunic, specifically a chlamys for whenever he went out on expeditions with colder temperatures.

His eyes light up as he grabs the garment, shoves it to the side, and gently pulls you against his chest with a content sigh leaving his lips. You return the gesture gladly.

“You are too good to me...”

Aventurine

This man will pull no expense when it comes to you. And honestly, would you expect any less?

Want some flowers? He's bought you an entire cart. Chocolate? He scoffs at you saying you only having a ‘small craving’, so he comes home with at least two crates worth. Jewelry? Has no problem in getting something valuable with all his connections.

Despite you telling him he doesn't have to get you all this stuff—even though you're grateful and love everything he gets you—he'll just chuckle with that darn teasing smirk of his.

“If a Stoneheart can't spoil their loved one on Valentine's Day, what good do all those earnings do me?”

Did I also mention he's doing all of this while still at work? He texts you to make sure you've recieved the gift, and then gets back to his own business.

Suddenly, Topaz of all people messages you with a reservation for a fancy restaurant and asks you to “please tell your idiot to focus, we're in the middle of a meeting” and all you can do is apologize profoundly.

Despite the evening being filled with lots of luxury, Aventurine eventually takes you out into the balcony to have some privacy as you relish in each other's presence. Contrary to popular belief, the blond doesn't like big crowds—he can manage being social only for a while for his job, but will then retreat back into the comfort of your arms to relax.

That's when you decide to give him his gift.

“...W-What's this?”

“You didn't think you weren't getting something from me, did you?”

You wrap a bracelet around his wrist encrusted with Garnet—a gem that symbolises love and devotion. Aventurine seems to understand the meaning because for a fleeting moment you can see Kakavasha, the man you fell in love with, staring at you with nothing but utmost dedication.

He places a kiss at the back of your hand with a smile that makes your heart leap with joy.

“You are truly the most beautiful gem I've ever found in this galaxy...”

Jing Yuan

Unfortunately, due to his position as General and being confined to the Seat of Divine Foresight, he can't actually go out with you anywhere for this special occasion, much to his dismay. You completely understand, but he's much more saddened about it than you are.

This doesn't mean he hasn't made arrangements for you to receive the very best on this day—flowers are sent to your house by the time you wake up along with a handwritten letter, all delivered via Cycrane.

“I apologize for my absence for such a marvelous occasion, but hopefully you can find it in your heart to forgive me with the tokens of appreciation I have planned for you. Happy Valentine's Day, my dear.”

The rest of the day is also pretty much luxury after luxury—from a delicious gourmet meal, to beautiful Lafou accessories, to even a beautiful flight via starskiff courtesy of Madam Yukong.

It's at this moment that you decide it's just not fair for you to be getting all the attention, so you decide to enlist some help from Sushang to carry out your new plan.

After visiting plenty of hot spots in Aurum Alley, the two of you are able to come up with a small meal that will hopefully satisfy your lovely general. So after thanking and bidding your friend goodbye, you head for the Seat of Divine Foresight.

It's already dark outside by the time you arrive, so you're almost worried that Jing Yuan might have already left for the day. But you are very much wrong once you go through the double doors.

You see him working his way through paperwork at his desk, a somber and almost exhausted look in his eyes which breaks your heart slightly. Once he notices your presence though, it's as if his energy has been rejuvenated, because he's smiling at you just like he always does, albeit there's a hint of curiosity in his gaze.

“I figured the General of the Cloud Knights didn't have lunch today.”

As he looks at the bag of takeout in your hands, he chuckles softly as he stands from his seat and reaches you in mere steps. A kiss is placed upon your lips and all you do is hum in delight.

“You never cease to amaze me, my love.”

Sunday

He's freaking out by the time the date arrives because he's never had anyone to celebrate such an occasion with—he's never loved anyone as much as he loves you.

Since you two haven't been together for that long, he's asking the members of the Express for insight into what things you might like and just general advice on how to showcase his affections.

You can imagine the chaos that ensues from that.

The whole day he's shifting from one personality to another, presumably to see what best suits your tastes and trying to be as romantic as possible—he tries (and fails) being suave and unbothered as he gifts you a bouquet of roses.

He tries cooking something using Himeko's recipes, and you and the entire crew are pretty sure you'll be dead before the food reaches your plates.

It isn't until he has you cornered in your room and tries (and fails again) to be flirtatious that you finally push away from him and ask why he's been acting weird all day.

He shrinks under your gaze.

“Forgive me, I just... I've never had anyone I've wanted to show my devotion to on a day like this. I only wanted to give you the best, but didn't particularly know how...”

“So you asked March 7th for advice?”

The pink on the tips of his ears is enough confirmation. You're going to have a talk with that girl about taking advantage of their newest member.

“I wasn't expecting anything from you, Sunday. Just being together is enough for me. I love you and I know you love me, so, isn't that enough?”

He stares at you as if you've just uncovered the secret of the Aeons, and a smile instantly lights up his face while he brings your hand to his lips to kiss. You giggle at the sensation.

“You always know what to say. Thank you for loving me, my dove.”

Dan Heng

Always found the tradition to be unnecessary and, quite frankly, sometimes even a scam. There's no need for a specific time of the year to showcase how much he loves you—he tries doing that every day!

But he doesn't want you thinking he doesn't care, so he's sure to knock on your door at the exact moment he knows you'll be awake, where you open up and he greets you with a bouquet of carnations and a box of chocolates he purchased on their latest visit to Belobog.

“Happy Valentine's Day...”

“You don't seem too excited about having to say that.”

“W-What do you mean? I—”

Before he can continue to fumble with his words, you go back into your room and start digging through your drawer of knick knacks, and come back with a book in hand. You hand it over to him and Dan Heng instantly recognizes it.

It's a hardcover edition of one of the books he already owns on the history of Penacony. The Express had gone back a few weeks prior for some business—them being shareholders and all—and you saw the way your boyfriend's eyes lit up in curiosity when seeing for the first time, but he ended up putting it back.

“This is...”

“To be honest, I wasn't sure if we were gonna do anything for Valentine's, so I just bought this as a random gift. You never get things for you, so I figured, why not?”

You then suggest to head downstairs to grab some breakfast to take to the Data Bank so you can eat and have a chill morning of light reading.

The Vidyadhara is looking at you as if you grew a second head, but then he smiles that one smile that's only reserved for you. You return it eagerly as you close the door to your room and interlock your fingers with his.

“Very well. Shall we get going?

[emberphoenixisgoingtolive]

how the Nublar Six would swear

CW, swearing (no shit /hj) as in, the swear words are said. i know (??) there are kids here so like. if swearing makes you uncomfortable, scroll past <3

Darius:

mama Bowman did not raise him to swear. Brand taught him the cuss words and mama Bowman got mad at him when seven year old Darius randomly yelled “SHIT!” when he dropped something

was a literal kid in camp cretaceous, so he was partially scared to swear, partially willing to do so anyway to Fit In With The Older Kids

the result was swearing in the worst moments. someone confesses something bad that happened to them and Darius says, completely genuinely, “wow, i’m so fucking sorry that happened to you😥” and Kenji laughs so hard because he did not use it in the right context

by the time the camp fam get back to the mainland though he is better at swearing in the right places

chaos theory however has him cursing his mouth off, usually only when he’s alone but he is prone to a frustrated “what the fuck were you thinking?!”

also calls people a dickhead a lot (he picked it up from Brooklynn since it’s a word more commonly said in britain iirc)

Brooklynn:

swears like a brit (cos of all the time she spent in london and i headcanon one of her dads is british)

the other group tease her for saying shit like ‘wanker’ ‘twat’ ‘bloody’ as well as some words the others haven’t even heard of (wtf does bollocks/bugger/minger/bellend even mean)

however the joke is on the other campers when they call someone annoying a “bloody bastard twat” when they get back to the states and their parents look at them like 🤨

regular cunt user (and cunt server)

says bitch [reclaimed] a lot

Sammy:

refuses to swear

instead she’ll spit out every damn/darn/heck alternative imaginable

or start complaining in Spanish

the nublar six have heard her swear one (1) time and it was something like “what the fuck is wrong with [insert villain of the day, probably d*niel k*n]” or when Kenji’s not–father died and Sammy first heard the news, she whispered a discreet “fuck him” and Kenji momentarily felt better

Yaz:

swears like an absolute sailor but only around her friends

when things are not going their way she will probably start swearing at a tree or something. everyone stands in mostly fear and trepidation except Ben, who is mentally making notes of all the new words she’s giving him

when the nublar six meet Yaz’s mother, Yaz doesn’t swear At All around her and it unnerves them (her mum is fine with her cussing a bit (she’s earned it bfr) but Yaz prefers not to)

her use of ‘what the fuck’ got so out of hand that the others started a swear jar exclusive to Yaz saying that phrase which got her to cool it a bit

swears less in chaos theory; she’s learned to keep it in her head

Kenji:

was raised not to swear because it “tarnishes the kon family name”

of course, Kenji proceeded to swear whenever his dad was out of earshot in every other sentence

he went through that annoying era where people think it’s cool to say fuck every other word a year or so before camp cretaceous

has learned to moderate his level of swearing but will still drop an occasional “oh shit” or “fuck this”

canonically says stuff like “we’re cooked!” but would also say “well we’re fucked” when the campers come across a sticky situation

when brainrot words became a thing he was all over brainrot words for a solid week. someone would put something silly on their group chat and Kenji would reply “um what the sigma 🤓☝️” to be annoying. Yaz gives him three strikes and then boots him from the group chat

says he’s serving kont a LOT. he put it on a t shirt and wears it all the time

Ben:

terrified of swearing before camp cretaceous and all throughout season 1. one of the others says fuck or shit and he visibly flinches

however post jungle boy transformation, he says fuck easily, most predominantly “FUCK YEAH BABY!” when he’s exploded something

the first time he said fuck around the other campers, they all turned to look at him like 😲 and he just grins and says, “i’m a changed man”

goes back to the mainland with so much new vocabulary, he accidentally drops a swear bomb around his mother and she gasps so loud

[junkissed]

for 1k.. mtl likely to completely melt when u go into subspace and say "thank you" after your orgasm? 💤

member — svt ot13 x gn reader  genre — mtl, fluff (18+) word count — 1.3k (each member has a paragraph) warnings — subspace (reader), just aftercare but there’s allusions to having sex (not explicitly described), implied that svt are dom/reader is a sub, all are gn except shua's uses “good girl” as a nickname notes — requested by @junhuisms for my 🐈 1k event — this has been in my inbox forever i'm sorry nhdnsjs. honestly i feel like all of them would melt but in slightly different ways so i did a little blurb for each. i hope you enjoy! <3

most

1 - seungcheol

this man is the biggest simp on the entire planet and he would be so so good at taking care of you. i think it’s about 50/50 the amount of time he spends as a hard dom and a soft dom, but regardless of what activities you get up to he is the best at making sure you always feel good. he would melt the hardest on the nights he’s been a little meaner and a little rougher, because how can you be so sexy and so adorable at the same time, especially after you just came four times from his mouth alone? it boosts his ego so much not only that you trust him with all of yourself, but that you love him enough to say thank you afterwards? his day is made. his week is made. his whole year is made.

2 - seungkwan

he is absolutely obsessed with you. his reactions are always big whenever he's around you because he's so in love with you; you could be doing the most mundane thing in the world and he'd react like you just saved a burning building full of orphans and solved world hunger. he’ll melt over literally anything you do, but especially when you get that dopey smile on your face after you cum because your pleasure is his pleasure so your reactions only make him melt even more. he gets so caught up in how cute you are, he’d probably end up falling asleep with you tucked in his arms and forget to clean up.

3 - joshua

he thinks you’re just so adorable. most of the time he enjoys a little pushback when he’s fucking you; being a brat tamer is what gets him off, so he’s always making you beg him to let you cum. but he can never tease you for very long, especially on the times when you decide to be well behaved, so of course he has to reward you for being such a good girl for him. he lives on giving and receiving praise so he’d be thanking you too for letting him take care of you like this.

4 - mingyu

he completely melts. literally reduced to a puddle on the floor or the bed. he would get the biggest puppy eyes and be so pouty because he’s so whipped and he believes you shouldn’t ever have to do any work. he’s the one who needs to be thanking you, actually, because he's so honored that someone as beautiful and perfect as you decided to choose him of all people. he will give you anything and everything you could ever need because he doesn't want you to have a single care in the world, especially when you're being so sweet clinging to his arms. he may not be perfect but he's going to try his damn hardest to make sure he truly earns your thankfulness.

5 - jun

he’d start smiling and giggling, and he wouldn’t stop until you came back out of subspace. he would also get super clingy and hold you close to his chest and stroke your hair and grin uncontrollably. he’d give you the sweetest “you’re welcome” you’ve ever heard and just keep praising you for being so darn cute. he is the snuggliest boy and his aftercare would be the softest and best part of the whole experience.

6 - hoshi

everything about him is intense, especially when you’re in subspace. he fucks you hard and loves you even harder, so when you thank him after your orgasm it would make him so happy and he’d love you even more than before (if that’s even possible). he thinks your reactions are the cutest thing in the world and once you come out of that headspace he’d be begging for another round just so he can see you like that again.

7 - jeonghan

he’d mostly be cocky and proud of himself for making you feel so good, but deep down he'd be so giddy about your reaction. he doesn’t always explicitly say it or show it, but you’re so precious to him and all he really wants is for you to be satisfied and happy. he would absolutely tease you later about thanking him, but inside he’d be blushing and hoping it’s something that’ll become a habit of yours. he’s a fiend for praise and would want to get you there all the time.

8 - seokmin

he has hearts and stars in his eyes for you on a normal day, so it’d only increase when you’re in subspace. he’d get all blushy and embarrassed and tell you not to worry about it because it’s his job to make you feel good, so there’s no need to thank him. he’d wrap you up in blankets if you’re too cold and he’d put a cool washcloth on your forehead if you’re too hot and he’d coo over you with the purest little smile on his face.

9 - minghao

he gets so soft and he would be so gentle with you. even if he'd been a hard dom earlier, he'll flip on a dime as soon as he notices you in subspace. the responsible dom in him comes out and he tries not to dwell on how cute you look because instead he's busy making sure you’re feeling comfortable and safe and loved, bringing you water and helping you calm down. he’d melt at your reaction, but in more of a protective way because he’s not gonna let anything happen to his baby. 

10 - wonwoo

he wouldn’t not be into it exactly, but he wouldn’t have as much of a big reaction as the other members. he’d mostly be proud of himself for being able to satisfy you so well, and he’d be ready to give you whatever else you asked for or what you needed. he knows what his job is and he does it well. he smiles when he thinks you're not looking or when you aren't paying attention and the sight of you makes him feel warm inside.

11 - woozi

he wouldn't melt so much as he would just be fond of you. he’d smile at you, let you rest on his lap and play with your hair until you come back to him. he's usually quiet, not making a lot of noise unless you ask him to, but when you tell him “thank you” he'll hum and blush a little to let you know he's listening and that he appreciates you.

12 - chan

he would love it when you go into your subspace, but at the same time i think he would get a little panicky. it’s a lot of responsibility to take care of you when you’re so vulnerable, and he would be so focused on that that he’d forget to think about his own feelings. he would still adore you and how cute you are, but it would be more at the back of his mind.

13 - vernon

quite honestly i don't think he'd even notice when you're in subspace. looking back later he might realize you were suddenly acting a little calmer and a little clingier, but he wouldn't treat you any differently than he normally does. he loves you and thinks you're cute all the time, why would he be any different now? he's just happy to be along for the ride, but he won't deny it feels good to be thanked, even if he thinks he hasn't really done much.

least

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[straw-eri-chan]

Unsurprisingly, the ILYF won the poll. So here's more TimKon clone baby!! A bit longer snippet this time, because you guys deserve it. <3

(Also, the second chapter has been posted of this on AO3. The Title is "I Love you Forever, I'll Like You For Always." If you want to keep reading on this story, there's a lot more over there!)

Kon looked down at tube-baby and–yeah. That wasn’t really a name. Kon was an idiot.

“I hadn’t actually thought about it,” He admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt bad about it now, but before it hadn’t even occurred to him. Stars, he had to give him a name? He was terrible with names! 

Of course he had to name him, damn it! Tube-baby is not a name!

“Well, I sort of need one if you want me to forge his documents.” Barbara reminded him. Right, right. Birth certificate. Social security number. All that jazz. His kid was gonna need that stuff to, like, be a member of society. Details.

“Okay, um…” Kon hesitated, thinking about it. What if he picked out a name Tim didn’t like? Or one his kid didn’t like? Or one his family didn’t like? What if everyone got mad at him and called him stupid?! Gah!

Okay Superboy. Breathe.

He looked back down at his baby and sighed softly. He already felt better.

There were too many Jonathans already. And not to give into gender construct or anything, but Martha was a bit too much of a girl name for him to decide on for his son. Clark didn’t fit him. He didn’t really know enough of Tim’s extended family to look there for name idea, unfortunately. But…

His middle name was Jackson, Kon knew that. And Tim never seemed bothered by the name, used it sometimes during covert missions. Never had any hesitation telling people, at least in Kon’s eyes. And Tim was something Kon was good at observing. 

The name was normal. Timeless, even. Kon liked it, and Tim must have already liked it, and really, who else mattered? 

Besides the kid himself, anyway.

“Jackson.” He said firmly, decisively. He liked the way it sounded. It seemed more official, stating it out loud. “Jackson Kent.”

They could hyphenate later, if Tim really wanted. But for now he liked Kent. Jackson Kent. His son.

“Middle name?”

“I’m not going through all that right now.” He grumbled without missing a beat, making Barbara chuckle. He looked back down to tube-baby. Jackson. “Hi there, Jackie-baby.” He cooed, earning a halfhearted coo back. He nearly died on the spot. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I don’t actually care if you have my DNA. You’re mine now, you hear?”

Jackson, as Kon was getting used to, did not respond. But his large owl eyes were so cute and perfect he dissolved into adoring coos and smothering his baby in kisses. 

“According to Tim’s files, Jackson is about three months old. He ages naturally, clearly, since Tim said he didn’t activate any accelerated aging.” Barbara says, reading from her laptop. Kon honestly shouldn’t be surprised she hacked into Tim’s private files that fast, but he still somehow is.

Well happy late birthday, kiddo.” He chirped, holding Jackson up to his face. “You’re pretty darn old, ain’tcha?” 

Not as old as Kon when he came out into the world, but he pushed that thought to the side. Not what he wanted to think about. And not important regardless, especially not now. 

Barbara pricked his arm with a tiny piece of Kryptonite he kept far away from Jackson, then did the same to him with a regular needle. The sharp cries he let out made Kon want to either cry to go ballistic on Barbara; maybe both. But he kept his cool and managed to calm Jackie back down with some rocking and talking. A lot of talking. His kid seemed calmer listening to Kon’s voice, more comfortable with everything else going on around them. 

It was a stupid though. But Kon almost felt, well, like Jackson felt safe with him. That he trusted Kon to take care of him and protect him. Which of course, Kon would. With everything he had, in fact.

“Unfortunately, there’s nothing else useful in Tim’s files other than the cloning process.” Barbara commented, souring Kon’s mood slightly. “But the DNA test came back as a match. You’re the father, congratulations. And so is Tim.”

Despite not actually caring if Jackson had his DNA or not, Kon still felt his heart rate pick up at the news. He cooed at the baby and bounced him gently, complimenting his amazing DNA. 

“And hey–listen for a second.” Oracle’s voice was soft, and her hand was warm when it was placed on his arm. “I’m not gonna lecture you or anything like that. You know what you’re getting into having a kid. Partially, anyway. At least I hope you know; it’s not all gonna be sunshine and rainbows. And that’s okay. We’re all here, if you need anything.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.” He found himself whispering, clutching Jackson tighter to his chest. The baby made a confused noise but snuggled closer anyway. “I understand I’m being selfish by saying this. By asking you to hide this. But I don’t want any other bats to know. I don’t want any risk of someone coming for him. Not until Tim comes home, at least.”Barbara was quiet for a few moments, clearly weighing her options. “I know how good detectives you all are. But Tim was one too. And he’s given everyone on the team a way to hide should they ever need it. From everyone. Even you guys. If I have to hide Jackson and I–to keep us together, to keep him safe, I’ll find a way.”