#maybe some of that would have happened anyway. but not all of it

[flofaiiry]

sick day ; michael robinavitch x reader

synopsis: robby coming home sick one day from work and reader who just wants to take care of him but this man is so STUBBORN and hates accepting help.

warnings: established relationship, robby is sick & stubborn, immense amounts of fluff and domestic reader & robby

wc: ~1500

note: thank u to everyone who voted in the poll! the people yearn for robby fluff so that is what they will receive 🤲 this was supposed to be just a teeny tiny blurb but i got a little carried away. anyways!!! someone needs to take care of this man pls.

you knew he wasn't well when he got home from work last night but he insists he's fine and just needs to sleep it off but from the amount of tossing and turning you felt last night you don't think he did a whole lot of that.

you take it upon yourself to call the hospital from his phone to tell them he wouldn't be coming in today. you know he probably wouldn't want you to do that but you also know that this man DESPERATELY needs a day off, especially today, but will never take it upon himself to make that happen. you turn off his alarm in hopes that he'll sleep a little more but what you didn't account for was his internal alarm clock, refined through years of waking up at 6am or earlier.

like clockwork his eyes open right when his alarm would normally be blaring. he winces and turns over to see you already staring at him. "my alarm didn't go off," he says, voice raspy from a mix of sleep and sickness. "i know, i turned it off," you reply simply, hand going to his forehead to feel if he's warm. he is. robby squints & rubs his eyes, "you turned it off? why?"

"because you're sick," you say like it's fact (because it is). "i also called the hospital and told them you wouldn't be coming today, so you should try and get some more sleep." your voice is soft, expecting pushback from this stubborn boyfriend of yours. "baby..." he sighs, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes. "i know, i know, i shouldn't have done that, but look at you robby. you're miserable, you're in no condition to take care of anyone else today."

robby is nothing if not headstrong.

"i have to go to work, baby," he sighs and tries to sit up. immediately overcome with muscle aches, he flops back down onto the mattress. "if you can't even get out of bed what makes you think you're going to be able to be on your feet all day, huh?" he doesn't say anything, just sighs, looking back to you, "i can get out of bed, i'm fine just... a little sore."

you raise your eyebrows, not buying any of that for a second, "ok then, stand up." he scoffs, "oh, i can stand up." he says, but doesn't make any effort to. you watch him for a second, then shrug, "then do it." you say again, blank expression on your face.

he takes a deep breath before attempting to get up again, getting a teeny bit further than last time, but eventually collapsing back into bed again. he sighs. "ok. maybe i can't get up." you lean over and kiss his forehead, "i know. go back to sleep, let me take care of you today."

"ok," he breathes, finally accepting defeat, "fine." you smile, pleased that your efforts were coming to fruition. his eyes fall shut again and before you can say anything else, you swear he's already out. you run your hands through his hair once before pressing one more kiss to his abnormally warm forehead.

it isn't until around 11:00am that robby wakes up, the sleep ridding his body of the muscle aches and actually allowing him to get up. you're sitting in the living room, watching the news on low volume when he walks in, hoodie and sweatpants on as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. "god, i needed that." he sighs, making his way over to you on the couch. you smile, having to physically resist the urge to say 'i told you so,' and opt for wordlessly leaning your head onto his shoulder.

"thank you," he says quietly into your hair, after pressing a kiss to the top of your head, "for making me stay home." you smile, "i may not be a doctor, but i know when people need rest. and you my love, need rest." he laughs quietly and drapes his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into him. the faint smell of his cologne on the sweater filling the air around you. "i love you," he says simply, like it's the easiest thing in the world, your smile grows.

"i know, now let me love you."

you place your hand on his cheek and gently pull his face towards yours, pressing your lips together in a soft kiss.

" 'm gonna make you sick," he says when you pull away, but you just shake your head.

"don't care," you kiss him again, this time for a little longer. the high pitched noise of the kettle coming to a boil snaps you both out of it.

"mmm, coffee?" robby hums, only to be met with the shake of your head, "no, i read that it's not good when you're sick, makes you dehydrated because of the caffeine or something." he groans when you stand up, walking over to the kitchen. "that can't be true, coffee makes everything better."

you shrug, "not according to web m.d. it doesn't"

"according to michael robinavitch m.d. it most certainly does." he teases, turning around to watch you move through the kitchen.

you smile. "nice try, but no medical license for you today. i'll be doing the doctoring for now." he raises his eyebrows, amused smirk coming on his face now, "oh really?"

you nod, "yup. and this doctor's prescription is peppermint tea, watching movies, and cuddling with your girlfriend all day." you take a teabag from the box and place it into his usual mug, paint chipped from years of wear and tear.

"hard to argue with that logic," you hear the tiniest bit of rasp in his voice from the germs. "oh and tylenol," you add, looking up from pouring the water, "tylenol would probably help too."

"tylenol would definitely help," he corrects, "do we even have any of that? i thought you finished it last time you were sick."

"we do now, i went out." you reply, walking back over to the couch to hand him the mug now full of steaming hot tea. he accepts the mug from you, mouthing a 'thank you,' before taking a sip. "you went somewhere? god, i must have been out because i did not hear a thing."

you nod, taking a seat on the couch again next to him. "yup. got meds and stuff to make soup."

he raises his eyebrows through a sip, "make soup? no canned stuff?" you shake your head, "only the best for my patients."

the rest of the day is slow. robby ends up napping for a majority of the time. you make him the soup you promised and watch some history documentary netflix recommended.

as the sun falls and the moon comes up, robby's got his head on your lap, your hands are in his hair, the gentlest scratch of your nails lulling him into yet another nap. it's getting late, and you know he's gonna want to go to work tomorrow. if there's anyway that's going to happen he's going to need a good night's sleep.

"i know when i'm the sick one you'd just carry me to bed but... i don't think that's gonna work out well for me if i try." you say, voice quiet as you run your hand along his arm to slowly wake him up.

"just fireman carry me," he teases, "throw me over your shoulder like a bag of potatoes or something."

"if you want to be responsible for all my broken bones, then sure, i'll give it my best shot." you smile down at him before he sits up. rubbing his eyes and mentally preparing to stand up.

"come on, you know you'll be more comfortable in bed." you say, standing up now and pulling gently at his hand.

"yeah, i know," he hums, standing up. once he's fully straight, he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you into him. your head falls to rest on his chest like it's where it belongs. like it's natural.

"thank you," he whispers into your hair. if there were anyone else in the room, they wouldn't even know he said anything. he presses a kiss to the top of your head, before pulling away to look down at you, "for taking care of me."

you smile, "of course."

"seriously, i know i'm an ass about accepting help. i know i'm stubborn as hell but... thank you for not giving up."

you just smile. not sure what to say. there's no world in which you'd give up on taking care of the man you love who neglects himself all too often.

"let's go to bed," you nod towards the bedroom, "sleep is part of my treatment plan too."

he returns your smile, "lead the way, doctor."

as always send me any feedback / thoughts / ideas / requests u have!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[okaylikeschaewon]

Unravel

~8.5k words, TPM Book 3, Part 2, smut, Series Masterlist

“A text would have been nice.”

“I said I’m sorry,” you pleaded – a feeble attempt to make her understand. “It was spontaneous, I didn’t plan on staying the night.”

“Oh? You didn’t plan on staying the night?” Sana mocked your voice, crossing her arms tightly. “Great, that makes two of us.”

“Sweetie–”

“Don’t ‘sweetie’ me right now,” Sana snapped, her eyes shooting daggers at you. “I really don’t think I’m asking for too much. You changed your mind and decided you wanted to fuck another member, fine, all I’m asking is for a bit of a heads-up so I don’t spend my whole evening waiting for you. Is that unreasonable? Am I the one being unreasonable right now?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Did you sleep with her?” Sana asked directly, not an ounce of hesitation in her voice.

“Well…”

“It’s a pretty straightforward question,” Sana hissed. “Did you put your dick in her or not?”

“Technically–”

Sana turned around and stomped off before you could explain. “Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath before sitting on the couch and pulling out her phone.

“Sana!” you called out after her, following her into the living room and sitting next to her. “Tzu had some personal stuff happen, I had to be there for her.”

“I’m not upset with Tzu,” Sana replied coldly without looking up from her phone. “She’s not the one who broke a promise.”

“I didn’t mean to–”

“Well, you did, whether or not you meant to,” she replied, her tone sharp as her fingers aggressively scrolled through nothingness on her phone. “It would have been fine if you just said you weren’t in the mood. You literally could have told me you’d rather fuck one of the others and I wouldn’t have cared.”

“Sana, it’s not that I didn’t want to,” you emphasized again while reaching out to her.

“Don’t touch me, I’m still mad at you,” she slapped your arm away lightly as she sulked. “Or, fuck, you could have just made up something. Anything. It’s not like I don’t know you have to fuck them whenever they ask. But no, you couldn’t even give me a call, or a text, or a fucking pigeon for all I care.”

“A pigeon?”

“It’s not like I just went through a whole fucking emotional roller coaster yesterday. It’s not like I wanted my boyfriend’s comfort.”

“I thought we weren’t using those terms–”

“Fine, fuckbuddy, side-bitch, roommate, whatever you wanna call it, I don’t care!” Sana shouted, tossing her phone aside. “It’s not like you’re acting like a boyfriend right now anyway.”

“You’re right, I’m not worthy,” you dropped down to your knees in front of her and playfully bowed your head in shame. “Forgive me, my queen.”

“Get up, stop being dumb,” Sana rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth betraying her livid demeanor for a brief moment. “This won’t work.”

“Do I need to kiss your precious feet? To show you how sorry I am?”

“Don’t you fucking dare put your mouth on my feet,” Sana replied sternly, pulling away. “Get. Up. Here.”

“Only if you promise to stop being mad at me.”

“Does it even matter if I do? Apparently promises don’t mean anything in your world,” Sana shot back.

“Alright, I deserved that one,” you smiled, standing back up and holding your arms out, waiting for her permission. She really took a moment to contemplate, to make you sweat, before she nodded just slightly, letting you cuddle up next to her. “I understand you’re upset with me, I fucked up, you’re right,” you added gently as you held her. “Yesterday was a tough day, a lot happened with the contract stuff.”

“It was tough for me, too,” Sana responded quietly, dropping her shoulders and staring at you with soft eyes. “I get that you had to deal with Tzu’s thing, but really, I didn’t expect to feel so neglected.”

“No and that’s completely valid, I fucked up. I should have at least called.”

“Maybe I’m being sensitive–”

“You’re not,” you reassured her before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Whatever you want, I’m yours.”

“I appreciate it, but that’s not necessary,” Sana gave you a faint smile. Her frustration quickly faded away, her tone softened, and her body language relaxed. “How’s she doing by the way? Did you get her situation sorted out?”

“Not really, I’ll have to stop by the offices,” you answered, your insides burning hot again at the thought of what happened. “That’s my problem to worry about though. Tell me, what do you want to do tonight? I can make a reservation somewhere if you want.”

“There’s actually this place Dahyun and I wanted to try, apparently their naengmyeon is really good,” Sana replied with a hint of excitement in her voice, without any of the anger from earlier.

“Sounds good, send me the name and I’ll make the reso’,” you replied, setting a reminder in your phone. “Hey, so I have like half an hour before I have to go pick up Nayeon…”

Sana waited patiently for you to continue, a frown on her face, daring you to suggest it.

“What do you say? Shall we have some fun and make up for last night?” you asked with a teasing smile.

“You think it’s going to be that easy?” Sana feigned annoyance. “A few words and you get to do whatever you want with me again? Just like that?”

“I mean, I was ready to suck your toes.”

“Stop,” Sana whined with a smile that absolutely melted you. “We both know how much you hate foot stuff.”

“Yeah, but, anything for you,” you replied, leaning closer and slowly snaking your hand around Sana’s body. “What do you say? Quick one?”

“No,” she whispered back quietly. “We’ll see after dinner, and don’t you even dare think about spending tonight with another member.”

—

A few days later

“You sure it’s alright?” Nayeon asked, unable to hide how bad she felt. “I’m really sorry, you know how these things are.”

“Nayeon, I get it, this type of shit happens almost every day,” you gave her an encouraging smile. “Finish up whatever you have left, just text me when you’re done.”

“I’ll make it up to you after, I promise,” she winked.

“It’s fine, and stop feeling bad, seriously,” you chuckled. “Now go, I’m so proud of you.”

She nodded enthusiastically before turning around and running back into the practice room. This past week has been tough for Nayeon, she really got no breaks. On top of all the group activities, she still had to work on her solo projects. Ever since the contract fiasco from a few days ago, Nayeon has been working overtime basically every single day; You couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for her.

That was part of why you decided to volunteer so much when it came to helping her out. Obviously someone else could drop her off, but you knew she was more comfortable with you. And, well, it did come with some benefits that you were particularly fond of; Nayeon had become the type of girl who would manage her stress by getting horny – and you were her solution.

Even now, as you walked the empty hallways of the JYP offices, you couldn’t help but daydream about what you knew Nayeon would ask for the second she finished working. During the days you had Nayeon, and in the evenings you had Sana – the last few days have honestly been pretty great in that regard.

“Oh!” you were knocked out of your daydream as you stumbled into a small figure. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No, it’s my fault,” the girl quickly bowed respectfully towards you before looking up at you and freezing.

That’s when you recognized her.

“Oh, Yeji, how’s everything?”

She stared at you, almost as if she was trying to remember you, her mind still somewhat out of it. “Are you…” she mumbled softly.

“Am I?” you cocked an eyebrow at her.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly bowed again before shaking out of her little trance. “I just thought I recognized you from somewhere.”

“We’ve met very briefly at a couple of company events, but I don’t think we’ve ever properly spoken,” you explained. It was true, you obviously knew who she was, but you’ve never had the opportunity to really talk to her. Truthfully, she caught your eye the most in her group – the sharp expression she regularly wore and that fit body just always resonated with you. “I’m one of Twice’s managers.”

“Ah, right, you–” she suddenly stopped talking and began shifting around nervously. “Right, anyway, I’m doing alright. What about you? Where are you heading? It’s kinda late, no?”

“Well, I planned to go talk to some people about some manager stuff, but I don’t think anyone’s in the office at this time,” you answered while checking to see if you had any replies on your phone. You had sent a few messages earlier in hopes that you could get this picture thing figured out for Tzuyu, but all you saw was a text from Nayeon saying she’d be another hour. “I guess now I’m just waiting for Nayeon, going to find somewhere to kill an hour. What about you? What are you doing here so late?”

“Oh, nothing in particular, honestly, I kinda just came here to relax for a bit after our schedules. Sometimes it’s a bit more peaceful here than at our dorms.”

“I can imagine,” you smiled comfortingly. “Busy day?”

“Every day’s a busy day,” she smiled back before an odd look flashed across her face. She very clearly had something on her mind and didn’t know how to say it.

“Well–” you began before being interrupted.

“Would you like to grab coffee for a bit?” she blurted out as her cheeks immediately flushed red. “I just mean if you have nothing to do, I could use some company.”

“Uh,” you hesitated, a little confused by the whole interaction. “Yeah sure, why not.”

“Cool,” Yeji replied before awkwardly pausing.

“Shall we?”

“Oh, right, yeah,” she quickly turned around and started walking towards the elevators.

One of the benefits of working in an idol-filled building was the constant opportunity to see stunning women – and Yeji was among the best. Those accentuated curves in the little crop-top jacket she had on, and her perfect legs in those casual, skin-tight jeans, it all looked fucking amazing. Even though you were trying to be courteous and professional, you couldn't help but notice how her ass swayed with every step.

“It’s kinda crazy, isn’t it?” Yeji began, glancing over her shoulder. “We’ve worked at the same company for so long, yet we’ve never properly talked.”

“Hm?” you quickly averted your attention from Yeji’s hips and sped up to walk next to her. “Yeah, it’s a big company though.”

“That’s true, but still.”

“You know that I know about your group, right?” you chuckled as you followed her into the elevator. “It’s not like I don’t know you exist. I still listen to all your music and whatnot.”

“Oh yeah, do you have a favorite member?” she grinned as she leaned against the elevator wall with her arms crossed. “And is it me?”

“Okay, I don’t think you’ll believe me, but it’s actually you.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you,” she chuckled, stepping out of the elevator in front of you. “But thanks.”

“No, seriously,” you quickly followed behind her. “That River cover? Chef’s kiss. I’ve been a fan since before I joined, actually.”

“Oh?” she turned to you with a curious smile. “Really?”

“Even before I joined the company, I always enjoyed watching fancams,” you continued, “and I’m not ashamed to admit it, I’ve watched a lot of yours.”

“Please, you’re going to make me blush.”

“I’m not kidding. You’re a phenomenal dancer. Also, keep this between us, you have the sexiest eyes I have ever seen.”

“Alright, now I’m actually blushing,” Yeji giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Don’t do that, I love your smile. Don’t hide it.”

“I didn’t realize Twice’s manager was so flirty,” Yeji smiled warmly as she navigated the coffee machine’s menus.

“And I didn’t realize how pretty you were up close,” you smiled back.

“Stop,” Yeji whined, stretching out the word with an unwavering smile on her lips. “Do you treat the Twice members like this, too?”

“No, of course not, I’m strictly professional,” you lied.

“Are you?” Yeji shot you a glance as she picked up her mug.

There was a subtle, but noticeable, tonal shift in the air between the two of you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked as you began making a cup for yourself.

“I don’t know,” Yeji toyed with the handle of her mug. “I’ve just heard things.”

“Things?”

“Yeah, things.”

Did she know? you thought to yourself. “Care to elaborate?” you inquired as you picked up your drink and gestured towards one of the tables.

Yeji nodded, and the two of you sat down together, nothing but the steam from your coffees blocking the firm gaze she had on you. “I’ve heard you and some of the members might have…”

“You can tell me, it’s fine,” you encouraged her to continue.

“Okay there was this one time when I overheard one of the members saying something about you… something that I wasn’t sure if I heard correctly.”

“Is that why you gave me that look earlier?”

“What look?”

“Yeji,” you sighed, smiling down at your cup of coffee. “Alright, I think we can stop beating around the bush. Yes, I’ve slept with some of the members, and you obviously know.”

“As in multiple?” Yeji gasped, her cat-like eyes shooting open.

“Do you wanna get on the intercom?”

“Sorry,” Yeji whispered, leaning in closer to you. “Multiple?”

“Seems like you didn’t know everything. Okay, I’ve slept with all of them,” you answered honestly, “it's part of my job. There, now you know.”

Yeji leaned back in her chair, staring at you as she contemplated your words. Even though there was a long pause, and obvious shock on her face, she didn’t seem to be looking at you negatively. Rather, it seemed to come more from a place of curiosity. She took a moment to properly digest what you had revealed to her before she spoke again.

“Why don’t we get a manager like that?”

“What?” you nearly choked on your sip. That was the last thing you expected her to say. “Is that what you want?” you laughed, putting down your mug again.

“I just mean like, that’s genius,” Yeji continued while casually sipping her drink. “As far as I know, none of the girls have been with a guy, but we’re still… you know,” she flashed a shy smile. “They’re constantly asking me about it.”

“Asking you?”

“Yeah, but I’ve only done it once, and I really can’t tell them much.”

“Oh?”

“What?” Yeji tilted her head slightly as if confused by your reaction. “After what you just told me, I don’t think I need to hide anything from you. It goes without saying, please don’t tell anyone, obviously. I had to be pretty sneaky about it.”

“My lips are sealed as long as yours are,” you replied while pretending to zip them. “Wait, but are you serious about wanting a similar arrangement? I might be able to talk to someone about it, and due to some recent events I ended up moving pretty high in the company.”

“Could you?” her eyes lit up. “I don’t really know how that works though, did all the girls have to approve of you or something first?”

“Uh,” you pondered her question. “Honestly, I never really thought about it, but they probably did?”

“I see,” she cupped her mug with both hands and began thinking. “You know what, maybe hold off on that part. Let me at least talk to the girls about what they want.”

“Fair enough, reach out whenever.”

“Speaking of,” Yeji pulled out her phone, “can I get your number then?”

“Yeah, of course,” you typed it in for her before handing it back. “I can’t say I expected my evening to go like this, but this was nice. Unexpected, but nice.”

“Agreed! I just feel somewhat comfortable around you. I can’t really explain it.”

“Thank you, and I think I get it, because I’m pretty sure I feel the same way about you. I rarely tell anyone about my job – for obvious reasons.”

“Funny how things work sometimes,” Yeji smiled gently. “How many people know?”

“Very few. Plus you now, I guess.”

“Right,” she chuckled. “Well, no one outside of my members knows that I’m not a virgin, so I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Like I said earlier, my lips are sealed.”

Yeji leaned in closer to you, lowering her voice some more. “Mind if I ask you something kinda personal? Since you’re probably a bit experienced and I don’t really have many people I can talk to about this type of thing.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Is it supposed to hurt?”

This was the most concerned she had looked throughout this entire conversation.

“Well, you see,” you leaned in a bit closer, “everyone’s different, but yeah the first time can hurt.”

“I see,” Yeji drummed her fingers against her mug.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I assume your first time wasn’t great?”

“What gave that away?” Yeji smiled with a small shake of her head. “No, it honestly just hurt more than anything. I think it felt good for him?”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I hope you’re not discouraged. It’s not like it’s your fault, most people find the first time kinda sucks.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” you gave her a reassuring smile. “You just have to find the right person, someone who’s compatible with you.”

“I definitely rushed it just for the sake of trying,” Yeji confessed. “Nothing against the guy, but he was also pretty inexperienced.”

“That happens, especially when people get into their first relationship.”

“I wish it was a relationship,” Yeji laughed, leaning back in her chair. “It was a stupid hookup with an old acquaintance. Like I said, I rushed it.”

“Ah, well, don’t feel bad about it. Can’t change the past, and you definitely wouldn’t be the only person who rushed it.”

“You’re right,” Yeji sighed before taking another sip. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer, even if the others aren’t interested.”

“Absolutely, you have my number, text me whenever,” you smiled.

Yeji smiled back – she really did have an adorable one. “Alright, my ride came early and is actually waiting for me, I should probably get going.”

“Alright Yeji,” you stood up and held your hand out. “It has been a pleasure finally getting to meet you properly.”

“Likewise! I’m sure I’ll be in touch soon.”

—

“Ugh. Fuck. I’ve needed this so much,” Nayeon moaned over her shoulder at you.

“You and me both,” you grunted as you slammed your hips into Nayeon’s pussy from behind.

She held onto the headrest for deal life as the sound of you clapping her cheeks echoed throughout the parking garage. Thankfully it was late enough for no one to bother you, but at this point even if someone walked by, you really didn’t give a fuck. This wasn’t the first time in the past week since the contract renewals that you’ve taken Nayeon in the parking garage, and the risk never seemed like enough to deter either of you.

This was Nayeon’s stress relief. Ever since she went full-force into her solo activities, she had become more stressed than ever, so whenever you would pick her up you’d end up with your cock in her. It was a daily activity at this point. Sometimes you’d make it back to the apartment first, usually you wouldn’t – you’ve discovered more secret sex rooms in the office this week than ever before.

“Ah, shit,” Nayeon cried out, tensing the leg she was balancing on as it trembled, nearly falling to the ground.

“Just a bit more,” you moaned back as you grabbed her hips for support, pushing even deeper into her pussy. “Fuck, you’re making such a mess.”

“Sorry,” she gasped before shoving one of her hands between her legs and showing how little she actually cared about the apology. She rubbed her clit as hard as she could, and within seconds she ended up sending streams all over the concrete next to where you were parked. “Oh fuck baby that’s good!”

The slapping was muffled by a wetness that only Nayeon could bring, each thrust of your cock into her pussy earning a fresh wave. You wanted to pull out, just for a second, to see her spray like a hose all over everything – but she felt too fucking good right now. You couldn’t stop, your hips had a mind of their own.

“Nayeon, I’m about to…” you tightened your grip on her hips and pushed forward as hard as you could until you felt the warmth shoot out of your cock, “...cum.”

“I can feel it,” Nayeon moaned, slowly moving her ass back and forward against your cock, squeezing out all of you cum with her pussy.

Once your cock stopped twitching, you slowly eased out of her, admiring the fountain of wetness dripping out of her pussy and straight onto the concrete below. Nayeon quickly turned around and took a seat, trying to keep her pants – which were bunched around one of her ankles – out of the puddle she had left next to your car.

“I love how I don’t even have to tell you anymore,” you smiled as you stepped up right in front of her.

“Not hard to remember when this is a daily activity,” Nayeon smiled, pressing her hand against her pussy again and opening her mouth wide for you.

“Good girl,” you moaned as you placed your cock into her mouth and grabbed the back of her head gently.

Nayeon went to work with her tongue, collecting any and everything she could off your cock, thoroughly cleaning it while fingering herself in the process. She got to do most of the movement herself, assisted only by the occasional thrust of your hips as you twitched your sensitive cock deeper into her mouth, all the way to the base.

“How’d recording go?” you mumbled under your breath while stroking Nayeon’s hair back.

She sat up straight and let your cock slip out of her mouth, and she wrapped her slender fingers around your balls, fondling them slowly. “Not bad, I’ll probably need a couple more days before I switch up and focus on the group concert.”

“If you ever want a break, we can arrange something.”

“This is my break,” she leaned forward and gave your tip a small kiss before letting go and leaning back in her seat.

“Fine with me,” you chuckled, pulling up your pants. You walked around the back of your car and sat down in the driver seat. “I love this new version of you.”

“What new version?” Nayeon grunted as she toyed herself with her pussy pointing out her open door.

“The one that’s always horny,” you leaned over the center and wrapped a hand around Nayeon’s mouth. “You’re going to get us caught if you keep making all that noise.”

She moaned something into your hand, something along the lines of ‘fuck you’, but her frustration didn’t last long as you slipped your other hand down between her legs.

If anyone was to enter the parking garage at this moment they would be greeted by a full view of Nayeon’s pussy, but she didn’t care at all. She screamed out against your hand as you slipped two fingers into her, curling them up and thrusting as fast as you could go for just a few seconds before jerking them out and pressing down on her clit.

She reached her own hand towards her pussy but you swiftly slapped it away. “No touching,” you hissed into her ear, bringing your fingers back to her entrance, leaving her clit and slipping them in.

It was obvious she wasn’t happy about it, but she listened, squirming and writhing at your touch, trying to push you in deeper by using her hips. You played along, giving her what she wanted while still teasing her pussy just enough to drive her insane. There was a beautiful balancing act that you knew would make it so much better in the end, even if Nayeon hated you for it at the moment.

And you knew it was working – her pussy was speaking to you through your fingers. She squeezed and pressed down hard, waves of pleasure aching through her pussy with each little thrust of your hand until it all became too much. You knew this was the end, all that was left was for you to pull your fingers back out and press on her clit.

Nayeon moaned louder than ever – basically screaming – as she began squirting across the parking garage, leaving long streaks of her slick all over the concrete. She lifted herself up with her legs, spreading them farther, shooting her mess as far as possible out your passenger door, painting the ground dark.

Only once her pussy stopped spraying did you stop. It didn’t matter how hard Nayeon would cum, she always had more in her – that was the beauty of it. You plunged two fingers back into her pussy, just for a couple more seconds, before quickly withdrawing and letting her squirt again and again, seemingly forever.

“I swear we’re getting caught one day,” you chuckled as Nayeon collapsed backwards against you, her legs shaking slightly and her breaths heavy.

“I don’t give a fuck,” she panted before straining herself up and closing the door. She didn’t even bother pulling up her pants as she glanced at you, collapsed in her seat and panting deeply, slowly regaining composure. “What about you, what did you end up doing?”

“Oh nothing, just tried again to talk to someone about the Tzuyu situation, but no luck.”

“I’m really sorry,” Nayeon softened her gaze and pulled up her pants. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think so,” you sighed as you turned on the car. “I just don’t understand why the fuck she did it.”

“I don’t know, as far as I know she hasn’t told anyone about it.”

“It just makes no sense.”

“Maybe it was for financial reasons?” Nayeon suggested. “If she was planning on quitting anyway, I could see those pics having a lot of potential.”

“Really? You think she’d do that just for money? That sounds fucking stupid.”

“I agree, but I don’t know why else she would,” Nayeon frowned. “Sorry, it was a stupid idea.

As you stopped at a red light, you looked over at Nayeon and shot her a warm, apologetic gaze. “Don’t be, I wasn’t trying to say you’re stupid, it’s a fair idea I just don’t think it’s why she did it.”

“So why do you think she did it?”

“I have no fucking idea,” you sighed, slamming your hand against the top of the steering wheel.

“Hey,” Nayeon reached across the car and placed her hand on your leg. “Maybe we should stop thinking about it, for now?”

“How can–”

“Please?”

She was looking at you with such precious eyes – full of concern – and a gentle, understanding expression. Her head was tilted just slightly with a small, hopeful smile on her lips.

“Alright,” you sighed, returning her smile.

“I know something that can help get your mind off it,” Nayeon leaned over the central console. “Just don’t crash.”

“Nayeon that’s not necessary–” you began as she unbuckled your pants and began pulling them down.

“Do you have any idea how hard you made me cum earlier?” she whispered before diving her face down between your legs and licking your balls. “This is just payback.”

Before you could respond, you felt her lips on your tip. A rush of excitement shot up your spine as the wetness of Nayeon’s mouth enveloped your cock. It took all your power to focus on driving once Nayeon had started bobbing her head up and down gently.

Luckily, you were already at her apartment, so you quickly pulled over in front of their building. Since it was fairly late there seemed to be no one walking around, so you had some sense of comfort knowing you were unlikely to get caught. Still, you were on a completely open street where anyone could walk by, and it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on.

It wasn’t guaranteed that no one would walk by, but at this point you were so engrossed in Nayeon’s blowjob that you once again tonight decided you didn’t care anymore. You pulled the latch and laid your seat down all the way. Once fully reclined, you rested a hand on Nayeon’s back and closed your eyes, focusing everything on Nayeon’s mouth. She kept her pace steady, not too fast, and definitely not too slow – at this point it was really just your own stress holding you back from blowing.

So you tried to relax some more – as if laying here with the setting sun’s warmth barely lighting up your car and Nayeon sucking your cock as if she was your girlfriend wasn’t enough. You really tried to let go of everything, no more pictures, no more angry pretend-girlfriend, no more emotional messes, no more work – just Nayeon’s mouth.

Sure enough, it was working. Or, probably, Nayeon had just been sucking you off for long enough for nothing else to matter to your body. You felt it coming, and part of you just wanted to freeze and it let it happen, but the courteous thing to do would be to at least let Nayeon know you were about to fill her mouth. Selfishly, you decided it was Nayeon’s problem, even as she was here doing you the favor. She’d understand – hopefully.

Regardless, it didn’t matter anymore as finally you could fade away into bliss, finally you could let go of the stresses of life, the difficulties of feelings and relationships. All you had to worry about now was the fountain of white you had begun launching into Nayeon’s mouth. She squealed, clearly surprised by the first shot, but Nayeon was far from inexperienced. She didn’t let off – she kept bobbing up and down your cock, albeit slightly slower now and with the occasional whine.

As much as you wanted to see Nayeon’s cute cheeks filling up with your cum, the strength needed to sit yourself up was non-existent. You conceded to the shivers shooting up your spine, the pleasure rushing through your brain, and you lay there with your hand resting on Nayeon’s back, simply taking in the slopping noises Nayeon’s mouth was making against your cock.

Once thoroughly drained, you finally groaned yourself up, bringing your seat upright.

“My–”

“Don’t,” Nayeon held up her hand as she wiped her lips. “I don’t even want to hear it.”

“I really don’t know why I didn’t say anything.”

“It’s whatever, I’ll let it slide this time,” Nayeon shook her head and grabbed the handle to her door. “What’s your plan now? Wanna come up?”

“Still horny?”

“Oh please,” Nayeon scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re one to talk. Really, how can you even have that much left in you after everything?”

“Good diet, I supposed,” you grinned at her before sighing again. “I would, but Sana has been a bit sensitive lately, I should probably avoid skipping nights with her for a bit.”

“Ah, right,” Nayeon frowned, letting go of the handle. “You know, you could take a couple days off, I can get a ride with someone else.”

“What? Then who’s going to fuck the shit out of you throughout the day?”

“I’m being serious,” Nayeon burst out laughing. “Really, if you wanna spend some more time with Sana–”

“My job is for all of you, not just Sana,” you stated firmly. “She understands that. I still get to see her at night even on days when she doesn’t come into the office, everything’s good between us.”

“Alright,” Nayeon bit her lip softly.

“You don’t seem convinced.”

“No, I believe you.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t.”

“What?” Nayeon raised an eyebrow. “Did something happen?”

“It’s just that Momo said something kinda similar,” you explained, “something about how I wasn’t taking this relationship thing with Sana seriously enough.”

“Ah,” Nayeon turned towards you some more, opening up her body. “Do you feel that way?”

“I mean, I obviously have a lot of love for Sana, but how seriously can I take this relationship thing we have going on? Like, come on, I’m still fucking her closest friends on a daily basis.”

“No one said it’s a simple situation, you obviously have an unorthodox career thing going on.”

“But?”

Nayeon smiled warmly as you read her mind. “But, that doesn’t mean that the feelings aren’t real. Forget about the physical sex you’re having with the others for just a moment.”

“How can I just ignore that part?”

“Well–”

“Let me ask you this,” you cut her off, “do you really think you’d be cool with it if I was your boyfriend and I was also fucking Momo every day?”

“That’s…” Nayeon sighed. “But then why do you do it? Why are you even pretending to be in a relationship with her?”

“I…”

“You can fuck all nine of us basically whenever you want, so what’s even the point? Why go through the headache?”

“I don’t really know…”

“Do you love her?”

“Nayeon, of course–”

“No, that’s not what I’m asking,” Nayeon stared, unwavering, into your eyes. “I know you love her, but I also know she’s not the only one, and she’s definitely not the only one who loves you.”

The first person that came to your mind was Mina and that confession from the contract renewal day. Then the others, and lastly the girl sitting right in front of you. You felt a slight stab in the chest when you thought about Nayeon, because at this point you basically knew she had feelings for you.

“It’s a bit too late at this point,” Nayeon continued, “the truth is, you’re right. I wouldn’t be okay with it if you were my boyfriend and also fucking the other members.”

“And I’d assume you also don’t think Sana would be okay with it?”

Nayeon gave you a meek smile before continuing. “Do you love her enough to pick her over everyone else? If you had to choose, would she be the one?”

“I guess I have to make that decision, don’t I?”

“That’s the thing, you don’t,” Nayeon replied as she reached for the door handle again. “But maybe you should.”

With that, she left the car, leaving you staring at her as she walked through the doors to her building – a whole new problem stuck in your head.

—

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“You smell like sex,” Sana replied without even sparing a glance away from her phone. She sat on the couch in nothing but a loose shirt and some purple panties, her knees up to her chest. “Nayeon?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’ll go shower real qu–”

“No need,” Sana tossed her phone to the side and reached up for your arms, dragging you onto the couch with her. “You hungry? We have leftovers, I could warm something up for you.”

“I’m alright, not much of an appetite right now,” you murmured as you buried your face into Sana’s neck.

“Is everything alright? You’ve seemed a bit more stressed than usual lately.”

“Yeah, just tired I guess,” you sighed softly.

Sana gently rubbed your back, holding you tight in her embrace. “Can I help?” she asked, her tone caring and full of concern.

“You’re already helping,” you squeezed, “I can’t ask for more.”

“I don’t know if I agree.”

Slowly, you lifted yourself up. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you think I’ve been a bit unfair to you these last couple of days? I’ve snapped at you and been difficult for no reason.”

“Sana, where is this coming from? Are you okay?”

“I just feel bad,” she admitted quietly, “you’re at the office before me, and you come home way later than me. I can see how hard you’ve been working recently and I just don’t feel like I’m doing my part.”

“Doing your part? Sweetheart, how can you think that for even a second? There’s no way you think my life is harder than yours, are you kidding me?”

“I’m not trying to compare, I’m just saying I wish I could do more for you. To help you.”

“You’re helping me more than you know,” you replied, pushing her hair out of her face. “Every day I look forward to coming home and seeing you here, waiting for me. You have no idea how much I love that.”

Sana smiled, a small twinkle in her eyes. “And I love being here when you come home,” she whispered before she leaned up towards you.

Meeting her halfway, you carefully slipped your hands under her body. Your foreheads touched softly, and her breathing slowed down. The eye contact, this close and personal, was unreal; There was this deep connection, silent and aching, that both of you experienced together.

Once you finally pressed your lips to hers – your eyes closing slowly – it felt better than you could have imagined. The kiss was tender and slow, full of anticipation and urgency. It felt both rushed and patient at the same time, your bodies working together and against each other simultaneously.

Her hands began clawing at your back, and your tongue slowly eased into her mouth, intertwining carefully with hers. You eased in a bit closer than you already were, deepening the kiss but keeping it tender, not rushing it at all.

Your hands wrapped around her small frame, holding her, reminding you that she was yours. Her gentle curves, her soft skin, and that tender love you felt – it was all yours.

Eventually you pulled apart, just enough for your lips to separate, and held close. Your deep breaths mixed as your mouths held just a few inches apart.

“I want more,” she whispered quietly.

“Take these off,” you whispered back, tugging at the purple panties she had on.

“Okay,” Sana purred as she pushed you back and turned around, grabbing the back of the couch and bending over at the hips. She pointed her ass towards you before she reached back with both hands and slowly revealed herself. “I’m all yours. You can fuck me, as much as you want. Use me, in any way you want.”

“No,” you whispered in response, crawling forward towards her and wrapping your arms around her, leaning right up against her ear. “Tell me what you want, because that’s what I want.”

She hesitated for a moment, shifting her body to the side.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” you whispered before you stood up from the couch and stripped down.

She bit her lip, staring up at you in deep thought. Even as you leaned forward and pulled her shirt off, leaving her sitting there with nothing on, she waited.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, taking a seat on the couch with your cock in hand. “Anything at all, just tell me.”

Her breaths quickened and she began crawling over closer to you. “I just want to ride you,” Sana whispered as she straddled your lap and cupped your face in her hands. She sat down on your lap – her pussy right on top of your cock – and started kissing you passionately.

Her movements were fast, but calculated. No loud moans, no shrieks – only soft kisses and gentle caresses. She slid her hips forward and back, back and forward, coaxing you to life – as if you could get any harder.

Then she paused, for just a moment, to reach back and take a hold of your shaft. She lined you up, slipping it in as she lowered herself down, a drawn-out breath escaping her lips. Sana shut her eyes tight, relishing in the ecstasy of you filling her up, inhaling and exhaling through parted lips, scrunching up her forehead.

Patiently, you lay there, waiting for her to make the next move. Your hands rested gently against Sana’s thighs, holding her steady. You felt Sana’s hands as she opened her eyes, taking the lead and interlocking fingers with yours. She looked down at you, an emotional smile flashed across her face as she gave your hands a tender squeeze. Then, she lifted her body up, just to bring it slowly back down.

“Oh fuck,” you murmured as Sana rode you. She was slow, making sure you felt every movement, every bit of warmth and pleasure that her pussy could offer.

“You feel amazing,” Sana whispered, speeding up just a touch.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are right now,” you moaned, your features scrunching up as Sana’s pussy began taking over your mind. You became more active, moving your hips in tandem with Sana, but she still did most of the work.

This time felt different. You’ve, frankly put, fucked Sana’s pussy countless times at this point, but there was something special tonight. You didn’t expect to feel so much, Sana’s body, her movements, the grip she had on your hands as if holding on for dear life, it all came together so magically.

She worked your cock expertly, her toned abs staring into you as she moved, her gorgeous tits recoiling with each bounce. Nothing could be more perfect than Sana’s body. The way her face just filled with pleasure and longing, the beautiful curves of her frame, and every single sexy breath that escaped her lips.

“Oh my fucking–” you cried out softly. “You’re so fucking amazing. You’re so fucking perfect.”

Sana replied with a loud moan, picking up her pace some more. She was starting to build up a sweat, putting in as much effort as possible – all to make you feel good. Her warmth engulfed you, her pussy soaked and tender. She would let out a little gasp, a soft squeal, each and every time your cock disappeared inside her body.

Every little movement felt like it was echoing, your senses reverberating harder than ever, an overwhelming sense of pleasure and delight that you still managed to swallow up. Every shiver and pulse, each one felt like an attack on your mind, each one feeling better than the last. Sana’s body, softer than ever, was doing things to you that you’ve never felt before. That mutual connection, quiet yet loud, was driving you insane. You could feel it in every fibre of your body – the end was near.

Then, as feelings hit an all-time high, and pleasure coursed through your body, you let out a sharp gasp before your mind faded to darkness. Everything happened so fast, you couldn’t keep up; Your body froze, laying there like a statue while Sana rode it out. She did it all, moving her hips back and forth as you filled her pussy up, your warm cum spilling out of her and back onto your own body. It felt fucking amazing, better than ever.

“Sana–”

“Just relax,” she whispered, letting go of your hands and lowering herself onto your chest. “I’m here, just breathe.”

Her words brought you comfort, that tone she spoke in – she probably could have said literally anything and it would have worked. Then, she began planting soft kisses against your chest, still moving her hips side to side just enough to keep it going.

Eventually, as your brain was overloaded with stimulation, your body finally began calming down. Now, alongside your heavy breathing, was just the feeling of Sana’s tender kisses.

Your cock slipped out of her warmth, and another fresh wave of cum spilled from her body. As much as you wanted to just lay there with her and enjoy the moment, you knew the mess needed to be addressed.

Carefully and methodically, you turned Sana onto her back and gave her a kiss. She wrapped her legs around your hips, pulling you in closer. You both ended up in a frenzy of passion and love, mouths glued together as neither dared to separate.

She felt so soft against your skin, her warmth radiating through you as your heartbeats combined into one unified rhythm. Her tongue grazed against your teeth, twisting and mixing against your tongue while staying gentle, like a romantic little dance.

As much as you would have loved to kiss her forever, you felt the natural end. You lifted yourself up slowly, pausing just to admire the way Sana’s chest heaved with each deep breath she took, her eyes wide and loving as she stared up at you.

“That was fucking amazing,” you smiled at her as you got off her and began walking towards the bathroom. “Let me grab some wipes, we made a mess.”

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about first,” Sana spoke softly, sitting up on the couch. “If that’s okay?”

“Sure, everything alright?” you let go of the bathroom door’s handle and turned around.

“Well,” she hesitated, waiting for you to sit down next to her. Only once you took a seat did she continue. “I spoke to Tzuyu today and she told me what she did.”

“She…” your body went warm. “The pictures?”

“Yes.”

It took a moment for you to ask the next question. For some reason, the way Sana was acting – her body language and tone – something about it had you slightly uncomfortable. You were a bit on edge, nervous maybe, and you weren’t entirely sure why but you had a feeling you weren’t going to like what she had to say.

“What did she say?” you asked softly.

“She told me she almost quit,” Sana muttered quietly under her breath.

“Yeah, she told me the same,” you placed your hand on Sana’s thigh trying your best to be encouraging.

“Promise me something,” she looked up into your eyes. “Promise me that no matter what I’m about to tell you, that you won’t tell anyone that I’m telling you.”

“Sana…”

“Promise me.”

Your heartbeat quickened and warmth flushed through your skin. “Alright, I promise,” you finally replied.

“The pictures were her choice–”

“What do you mean, her choice?”

“Let me explain,” Sana continued, her eyes beginning to well up. “She… She felt like it was her way to take back control. She said the way those guys made her feel, how special they made her feel during negotiations, she missed that feeling.”

“But…”

“I’m paraphrasing obviously. She was hurt, she was vulnerable, and she knows she fucked up.”

“I just don’t understand, why?”

“It’s very human to do things you wouldn’t normally do as a way to seek validation or affirmation,” Sana spoke softly, still very clearly fighting back tears. “Especially if she felt unseen or overlooked. She said they were nothing but kind, and that it was all her own decision. That’s also why she felt so bad when you got so upset about it.”

“When you say unseen or overlooked, you’re talking about me,” you replied quietly.

“Kind of,” she answered quietly, her expression full of pain and sorrow. “But maybe it’s my fault. I’ve definitely played a role, it’s not only your burden to bear.”

“No, Sana,” your vision began blurring. “I’m not going to let you blame yourself. This is on me, my fuck up.”

“Don’t say that,” a tear fell down her cheek. “It’s not your fault. I hurt her, even if she won’t say it, I know I did.”

“Please–”

“I love you, a lot, I promise I mean it,” Sana muttered softly as the tears began spilling freely down her face. “But I can’t, I can’t do this. As much as I love you, I also love my members, and I don’t have it in me to hurt any of them like this.”

“Sana–”

“I can’t do it,” Sana sniffled, “maybe one day this could work, but not right now.”

The heaviest silence you’ve ever experienced engulfed the room, leaving the two of you in a darkness that could be felt through your skin. There wasn’t anything left to be said, minds were made, decisions decided. This was it.

“We can make this work, Sana, I know we can,” you pleaded desperately as tears filled your eyes. “Please.”

“Remember when we started dating?” Sana wiped her nose with the back of her hand, more tears spilling down her face. “I told you there were three conditions, and I didn’t know the third one yet but one day you’d have to accept it?”

“Yeah, and I said that was unfair.”

“I know,” Sana smiled through the tears. “It is unfair–”

“Don’t do this.”

“But here’s my third condition. I need you to let this end. I promise you this isn’t easy for me, but it needs to happen. I wish it didn’t, but it does.”

“Sana–”

She silenced you by pulling you into a hug. There was just as much love and care as ever, but all you could feel was the resounding desolation coursing throughout your body. Even as Sana sobbed against you, there was nothing but a bleak emptiness in your head.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered quietly.

Turns out that Nayeon was wrong about one thing, you didn’t have to make the decision to pick Sana over the others – she made it for you.

---

A/N:

You guys have been so damn amazing and patient, and I know a lot of you have been waiting for this story to come back, so here it is! I promise I'm not rushing the chapters, I just found some more time to write as I've needed a bit of an escape from life. I really hope you guys enjoy!

For those of you who have been following the story for a while, it's finally coming next chapter, the Yeji cameo that I've been teasing for way too long. It won't be exclusively Yeji next chapter, as you might have noticed the chapters are a bit longer now, so expect some steamy scenes from someone else as well.

Let me know what you guys think! We're sort of in the end-game of the story now, a lot of teasers and hints from the past are finally going to get paid off. Stuff I've planned for years, finally turning into words. No promises for when the next chapter comes out, but if people respond well to this I'll try to make it sooner rather than later!

[smutmind]

Caught Pink Handed

IVE Wonyoung X Male Reader

“Oppa?”

You froze mid-stroke, heart stalling. Her voice wasn’t surprised. Just curious. You turned slowly—hand still half-wrapped around yourself—and there she was.

Wonyoung. Nineteen. All legs, lush hair, candy-colored top riding high on her ribs. That denim skirt brushed her ankles as she stepped inside like she owned the place.

"Didn’t your mom teach you to lock doors?" she asked, one brow raised.

You fumbled for your blanket, too slow. Her eyes were already on the laptop screen—your folder open. Her photos. Her in that low-cut tank last summer, the bikini on your roof deck, the mirror selfie she’d posted and deleted in under five minutes.

“Seriously?”

She laughed. Not cruel—worse. It was soft. Disbelieving. Almost flattered.

“Holy shit,” she murmured, stepping closer. “You were actually jerking off to me.”

You couldn’t speak. She tilted her head, watching your shame crawl over you.

“That’s what you do when we hang out? Sneak photos? Save them for later?”

Her tone was sugar-laced poison. She came closer, the heat of her body brushing yours without touch.

“I come over all the time,” she whispered. “Your sister trusts me. And you’re just here, like some sad little perv, getting off in your gamer chair.”

You swallowed hard. Your hands stayed limp at your sides.

She leaned in. The scent of her was everywhere—floral shampoo, warm skin, something bubble-sweet under it all.

“Did you ever think what would happen if she found out?”

You shook your head, throat dry.

Wonyoung smiled, slow and terrible. “No, you didn’t. Because all you were thinking about was my tits, right? My ass in this skirt?”

She stepped between your knees. Her hand landed on your thigh, fingers feather-light.

“Look at you,” she said. “Still hard.”

She leaned closer until her lips hovered beside your ear.

“You don’t deserve this,” she said. “But maybe I’ll let you have it anyway.”

You stared at her, stunned. She stepped back.

“Clean up. Sit down. Don’t say a word.”

And then she curled onto your bed like it was hers, phone in hand, not even glancing at you.

The silence stretched like wire.

You knew this wasn’t over.

She lay sideways on your bed, scrolling like nothing happened. One knee bent, heel bouncing. That skirt rode up her thigh just enough to torment.

You sat in your chair, half-hard, half-humiliated.

Then came her voice. Casual. Sharp.

"Come here."

You stood, slow, still not meeting her eyes. She patted the mattress beside her.

"Closer."

You knelt on the floor. Her gaze flicked down.

“Good boy.”

Wonyoung shifted, planting both feet flat, spreading her knees just a little. The hem of her skirt drew tight. You tried not to look. Failed.

She smirked. "You really couldn’t help yourself, huh? All those times I bent over in front of you. All the outfits I wore just to mess with you…”

You blinked. “Wait—”

“Oh please,” she said, eyes gleaming. “You think I didn’t know? You’re so easy to tease, oppa. That little twitch you get when I suck on a straw? The way you stare at my legs when I kick my shoes off?”

She ran a hand down her own thigh. “You don’t hide it well.”

Then she paused. Her smile dropped, just enough.

"But this?" she said, nodding toward your desk. "This was pathetic.”

Silence.

Her voice softened. “You wanted me without asking. Like I was just a thing you could play with when you’re lonely.”

That landed hard.

She leaned forward, touched your cheek.

“I should be pissed,” she whispered. “I should tell your sister.”

Your stomach dropped.

“But I won’t.”

Relief. A breath caught in your throat.

“Not if you listen,” she added, sitting back, legs spreading wider. “Not if you do everything I say.”

You nodded. Too fast. Too eager.

She laughed.

“Strip.”

You hesitated.

“Now. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You obeyed—shirt, pants, everything. She watched like it was a show she’d paid for.

Then she lifted her foot and tapped your chest with her toes. “On your back. Floor.”

Cool wood against your skin. You lay there, exposed. Waiting.

She stepped over you. That skirt hovered above your face as she straddled you, her panties damp, pressed against the fabric.

She crouched lower, letting her heat ghost over your lips.

"You want to taste what you've been jerking off to?"

You nodded.

“Then beg.”

“Please,” you breathed.

“Please what?”

“Please let me taste you, Wonyoung.”

She smiled. “No.”

She stood, turned, dropped onto all fours above you. Her ass now hovered over your chest, the cotton clinging wet between her cheeks.

“Here’s what you get,” she said, yanking her panties aside. “You make me cum. I decide if you get anything.”

You grabbed her hips. She slapped your hand.

“No touching. You work with your mouth only.”

Then she lowered herself. You moaned against her—she was soaked, warm, slick and tangy. You licked, desperate, your tongue exploring every fold, flicking her clit until she twitched.

“Fuck, oppa,” she gasped. “You eat pussy better than I thought.”

She rocked against your face. Hair fell like a curtain around your head. Her moans came sharper now, louder.

“Keep going—don’t you dare stop—"

She stiffened, thighs clamping, then shuddered hard. A whimper escaped her lips.

She didn’t move right away. Just breathed heavy, panting above you. Then she sat up and twisted to face your flushed, aching cock.

“Now you get your reward,” she said, grinning like a devil.

She straddled your thighs, hair falling around her face as she dipped her head low. Her lips found you, slow at first—tongue teasing under the crown, then sliding down, swallowing you whole with a messy, greedy hum.

You groaned, fists bunching the sheets.

She came up for air, her chin glistening. “You moan so pretty, oppa.”

Then she leaned in, her chest brushing your lips.

“You want these too?”

You didn’t answer fast enough. She reached down and slapped your cock lightly.

“Say it.”

“Yes—please.”

She smirked and pulled her shirt up, baring soft, full breasts tipped in pink. You sucked one into your mouth, her skin warm and flushed, her nipple hardening instantly.

“Good boy,” she whispered, grinding down onto your cock with her soaked panties still between you.

She rocked against you like that, hips rolling, nipples in your mouth, her breath catching every time your teeth grazed. Then she lifted, reached back, tugged the fabric aside.

“Condom?”

You shook your head, dazed. She laughed.

“Course not.”

She sank onto you bare—tight, dripping, so warm it made your back arch. Her hands found your chest as she bounced in slow, deliberate thrusts.

“God,” she panted, “you’re so fucking deep—”

Your hands gripped her waist. Her tits bounced with every movement, your mouth catching them when you could. She leaned in, kissing you wet and fast, tongues tangling.

A sudden beep—she glanced at the digital clock on your shelf.

“Five minutes,” she said, laughing breathlessly. “Let’s make them count.”

She climbed off and flipped forward onto all fours, looking back over her shoulder, hair falling in waves.

“Come get what you’ve been dreaming about.”

You knelt behind her, drove into her hard. She yelped, then pushed back into you with every thrust.

“Harder,” she gasped. “Don’t hold back, oppa—fuck me like you mean it.”

Your hands gripped her hips. The slap of skin echoed, loud and obscene, her moans rising higher, then breaking into whimpers.

“I’m gonna cum again—don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—”

She spasmed around you, mouth open in a silent cry as her body jerked. You barely held it together. She collapsed forward, then twisted onto her back, eyes wild.

“Finish on my face,” she demanded. “Do it now.”

You knelt over her. She opened her mouth, tongue out, eyes locked to yours.

You groaned, cock twitching, and came hard—ropes of white striping her lips, chin, cheeks, even her collarbone.

“Fuck,” she whispered. “Just in time.”

She grabbed her panties from the floor and wiped her face quickly, licking her fingers clean between swipes. Then she pulled her shirt down, smoothed her skirt, and darted into the bathroom.

You barely had time to tuck yourself back in before the doorbell rang.

Wonyoung peeked out, cheeks flushed but clean.

She mouthed one word before she opened the door:

“Oppa.”

[mdhwrites]

So, this person has a point but I want to take this as a chance to essentially talk about WHY so much is done in High School. After all, it's not just tv dramas. A looooooooooooot of different mediums default to high school for their storytelling. Why is that?

A: It's a shared experience.

Not everyone has gone to college. Not everyone has even applied to a college. As such, you may lose some people with how things like sororities, fraternities or even just a basic schedule works. If you haven't been to college and some dude talks about how he only has Physics twice a week, someone might wonder why that is because most will assume college works just like high school because all versions of primary school (elementary to high school) work in a similar way where you're there ALL DAY. I mean, even the changing of nations can cause confusion for traditions between high schools and lose parts of the audience that way and make it less approachable.

B: There's downtime in classes.

So I actually went to college for a year and a half and admittedly did not do things like clubs, look into fraternities, etc. like that. Even in High School, I wasn't that social... But when it was just time to do homework, I saw and heard plenty of bullshit around me. I never had a SINGLE lecture that had time for people just to hang out in the middle of class. In an environment where you are all packed together, bored, waiting for the bell to ring and thus something can happen while the density of people is at its absolute maximum.

This similarly goes for Lunch time, which isn't a thing in college. You want a fight to break out, or someone to have a big public break up? You can do it in the Commons but you are guaranteed an excuse for your main character to see it if it's at lunch because they have to be there but they don't necessarily need to do anything.

C: Everyone has downtime.

This one is more flexible as I had more free time in college than one might immediately expect... But I still had less and it was more awkward to get ahold of because I was a part time worker too. My weekends were eight hours in the toy department of Walmart, Friday-Sunday. My days meanwhile were chopped up piece meal between all my classes which would leave me like two hours between each of my lectures but only two hours so I could go eat, maybe strike up a conversation but go hang out with someone? That was a lot more questionable until potentially five in the afternoon, WAY later than High School gets out and your characters are free to get into shenanigans. I mean, chased by feral hogs? I bet there are teenage dumbasses who had that happen too because they fucked around and found out. Being in college doesn't really dictate that, that's more due to:

D: A weird mix of pressure and not.

You're old enough to have a car! But not old enough to get much of a job but you can have a part time job for a little bit of spending money but then you gotta still do homework but at least all that money is yours instead of having to go to rent, food, transportation, etc. But maybe you want to save some of it for college someday and that's why you're working instead. Teenagers are in a very weird place in society. They are considered old enough to be mostly left to their devices so they can get into a lot of trouble but not old enough to be entirely untethered. They are young enough to be taught instead of simply punished but old enough that there are real consequences to when they go too far. They're told at the same time to remember to be kids and enjoy this time before the real world kicks in but also to be thinking about their future and how their actions now may affect their prospects for jobs, colleges, etc. like that. This is all without getting into hormones, dating, etc. like that. It is a natural time of life where society and biology smash together to tell you to DO SOMETHING MOTHERFUCKER!

Not to say that in reality young adults don't deal with a LOT of this stuff anyways but it is not the social norm or what is expected, though that is changing with how severely fucked most young adults are because the world sucks. -_-

Speaking of these weird places where the line blurs... How could you get some of these advantages back? The answer is theoretically simple to point out but I'm not going to call it easy:

The Dorms.

I was not a dorm kid myself and admittedly, I've never used the social spaces in any of the apartments I lived in. However, you do have these cramped spaces that force a LOT of people together, often in situations that are not ideal between roommates and the like and if you want a place to study, you might just have to leave your room in order to find it. This leaves the character in a high density place where, if they took out loans or had enough in scholarships, they don't have to worry as much about transportation, food, rent, etc. During their downtime, there are always people coming and going from the dorms, there's always bubbling trouble within the rooms, etc. like that. It essentially trades the high school advantages for the advantages of sharing an apartment but with WAY MORE PEOPLE, at least to some extent. You trade the rigid structures of High School for a more fluid epicenter for your drama and action. Otherwise, stuff like clubs are just also a part of college so you can keep those too for such things.

It's not a perfect solution but the goal shouldn't be to make it 1:1 to high school because otherwise, why did you bother swapping the setting to a college? I think there is a lot of potential for works genuinely focused on college too so I am in support of what the OP is talking about. I just wanted to share my thoughts on why we don't see that transition really. See you all next tale.

can we have tv dramas set in college please. fucking nothing happens in hs man. now im in college and my friend got chased by feral hogs a week ago in the woods and its like the 5th craziest thing to happen this week

[blank-potato]

my kid's better than your kid

Pairing: John Walker x Reader

Summary:

“Listen here, Captain Suburbia,” you sneer. “Anyone with two functioning eyes could see your kid bodychecked mine like it was hockey practice.” “Well, the ref didn’t see it that way. So move on,” he snaps back without missing a beat. “Absolutely not! This is about accountability.” “There’s no need to give my kid a red card just because your kid—” John starts, hands gesturing like he's trying to explain away a traffic ticket. “Don’t even finish that sentence,” you fire back, jabbing a finger at his chest. “If you even imply that she was overreacting, I swear I’ll—” He holds up his hands, that smug look never leaving his face. “Hey, relax. Just saying, maybe things wouldn’t get so dramatic if you stayed on your side of the field.” You narrow your eyes. “Funny, I was just thinking the same about you.” Or You and John's kids are in the same soccer league, and after you get into an argument on the field over your kids, you start seeing him everywhere. It's hate at first sight.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content, hair pulling, mirror sex, oral sex (female receiving), p in v sex, breeding kink, sexual overstimulation, John Walker is a biter, No Superhero AU!, slow burn, enemies to lovers, dead spouse (I killed off his wife oop), John being a good dad, Ava Starr cameo

A/N: I feel like John would be one of those dads who's coaching from the sidelines at their kids' game, so I wrote this. I'm also obsessed with him right now so expect more fics

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

Some might call you intense or insane.

A little crazy, definitely.

There’s a fire in you, always has been, and when it comes to your daughter, you didn’t play around. Every aspect of her life was important to you, especially her Saturday morning soccer games.

Though you didn’t know what intense was until you saw that dickhead across the field. Blonde hair, a trimmed beard, built like he probably hits the gym four times a week. His biceps flexed under his white shirt every time he threw his arms up at the ref, which, to be fair, was often.

If he weren’t so obnoxious, you might even find him hot, but you totally don’t find him hot. He was pumped up, red in the face, and just as invested in the game as you were. Pacing like a coach who got fired but still showed up anyway. He was shouting directions, clapping like his kid was about to be scouted, and cheering like it was the World Cup and not just a rec league game on a patchy field behind a middle school.

He was showing you up, so you started cheering louder for your kid. Because if this is a competition, you're damn well not losing it.

“That’s it, Lily! Give ‘em hell!” You shout, your daughter just smiles at you and goes back to playing, used to your competitive nature.

The man takes notice of you and looks at you like he isn’t also acting like a lunatic before cheering even louder. That rubbed you the wrong way. What gave him the right to look at you like you were the problem?

Then it happens.

You watch as your daughter gets slide-tackled for no reason.

And the ref? Doing fuck all about it.

“What was that call, ref?” you shout, already on your feet.

“I—” the ref starts, backing up as you approach. 

You trudge towards him, angry but trying to maintain a look of composed fury, like you weren't two seconds from setting the field on fire. 

The ref was used to your antics, and now every time he saw you storming towards him, he’d be sure that he’d be going home with a headache.

“No yellow or red card? She got slide-tackled,” you bark.

“It’s—”

“She didn’t even have the ball!” you snap, the words ripping out of you like they’ve been waiting. You’re so fired up, so high on rage and love and disbelief, you swear you could take flight.

“It was an accident, so there’s no need for that,” a voice cuts in, calm and condescending in the worst possible way.

You turn, and it’s him, the guy from across the field. The look on his face, the matter-of-fact tone, the casual smugness oozing off him like cologne. You hate him instantly. It was that easy.

“I’m guessing that was your son that ran over my daughter,” you say, each word clipped like you’re trying not to launch them at his face.

“Ran over?” he snorts. “Talk about an exaggeration.”

“It’s soccer, these things happen. You don’t have to throw a tantrum just because your kid's team is down two,” he adds, smirking like he thinks this is witty banter and not a declaration of war.

You scoff, hands on hips, already stepping into his space. The ref backs off like a man realising he’s standing between two charging bulls. This wasn’t a sideline spat; this was two planets colliding, and he wanted no part of the fallout.

“Listen here, Captain Suburbia,” you sneer. “Anyone with two functioning eyes could see your kid bodychecked mine like it was hockey practice.”

“Well, the ref didn’t see it that way. So move on,” he snaps back without missing a beat.

“Absolutely not! This is about accountability.”

“There’s no need to give my kid a red card just because your kid—” John starts, hands gesturing like he's trying to explain away a traffic ticket.

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” you fire back, jabbing a finger at his chest. “If you even imply that she was overreacting, I swear I’ll—”

He holds up his hands, that smug look never leaving his face. “Hey, relax. Just saying, maybe things wouldn’t get so dramatic if you stayed on your side of the field.”

You narrow your eyes. “Funny, I was just thinking the same about you.”

“That’s it! Take this off the field,” the ref finally blurts, hands up, voice cracking. “The kids have a match to play!”

You exhale sharply and hard through your nose, fists clenched at your sides. You try to calm yourself down, jaw tight, heart pounding. You sit and look out at your daughter, brushing grass off her knees and already back in position. 

She's tougher than you give her credit, but that didn’t change the fact that you wanted to put that guy’s head in the ground. 

After the game, her team, the Honeybees, lost after a few missed goals and lots of questionable calls, but your daughter was still laughing with her friends, unfazed in the way only kids can be.

You, however, were still stewing in quiet indignation when you spotted the world’s biggest jackass, in your humble, entirely accurate opinion, making his way toward you.

“Oh. It’s you,” you say, arms crossed automatically.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your loss,” he says, all fake sincerity, like he wasn’t two seconds away from being shoved into a juice box cooler.

“How mature.”

“I try,” he replies with that same maddening, self-satisfied grin.

You narrow your eyes, ready for whatever condescending nonsense he might say next. If he says “good effort”, you’re swinging. Choosing not to let him fuck with you, you tell him what’s what. 

“Your team only won because of the ref’s bad calls,” you say, arms still crossed, tone sharp enough to slice fruit.

“Oh really?” he replies, lifting an eyebrow like he’s genuinely amused. Like this is his idea of foreplay.

“Yeah. My kid was dynamite out there.”

“So was mine,” he says back instantly.

“I mean, sure, but my kid has the most assists on her team,” you say, trying to keep your cool, even as your voice edges higher.

“Assists,” he echoes, nodding slowly. “Not goals.”

You blink at him. “Are we seriously doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything,” he says with mock innocence, hands raised like he’s never been petty in his life.

You press your lips together, biting your tongue so hard it might bruise. You didn’t want to, you really didn’t want to, but it slips out anyway.

“My kid can out-pass, out-hustle, and outplay any other kid on that field.”

He grins like he’s been waiting for this.

“Well, my kid can run circles around your kid while tying his cleats.”

Your jaw drops slightly. “Alright then, my kid was able to run a full field drill without missing a pass when she was five.”

“Well, mine could do cone drills backwards while coaching his teammate through theirs.”

Your eye twitches at that and he delights in seeing you so bothered.

“Lily has a killer left foot and once scored a hat trick with a stomach bug.”

“And Tommy is a human wall on defence.”

“Oh, please. Lily once did a bicycle kick and landed on her feet. What’s Tommy got?” You say, crossing your arms. 

“Perfect attendance and a clean penalty record.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at ‘clean penalty record’ but you keep it moving.

“Lily brings orange slices for the whole team.”

“Tommy brings strategy diagrams and pep talks.”

You pause, blinking. “Are we… bragging about how nice our kids are now?”

“Seems like it.”

You both go quiet for a beat, then he adds with a smirk, “Still doesn’t mean your kid’s better. I think you should admit to defeat.”

You step forward, just enough to make a point. “I’ll admit defeat when the Honeybees start losing because of their own mistakes, not because your future linebacker throws elbows like he’s in a bar fight.”

He actually laughs, and it’s a little too charming for your liking. Before you can wrestle with what that means, you hear a voice. 

“Dad!” his son calls from across the field, waving dramatically. “Hurry up, you promised we’d get ice cream!”

He glances over his shoulder, then looks back at you with that same smug glint in his eye.

“Again, enjoy your loss,” he says, already turning. “And get used to it. The season’s still young.”

You narrow your eyes. “Until next time, Captain Suburbia.”

He chuckles and starts to walk away, but pauses, turns back with a smirk plastered on his face.

“John,” he says. “My name is John.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

“Uh, what are you doing?” 

“Hiding.”

“From?” Your friend, Ava, says as she looks around for the apparent danger. 

“John.”

Ever since that day, you were livid with the dickhead you knew as John Walker. You had never hated someone so much from just one meeting. You never wanted to see him again, but you did while shopping.

Ava takes a peek, “Oh, the hot soccer dad? Which one is he?”

You never described him as hot but Ava figured from the way you were kidding your mind over him, you thought he was. 

“Blonde, beard, tall and wearing a blue shirt.”

Ava sees him in the fruit and veg aisle and hums in approval, “Is he single? He’s right up your alley, no?”

You nudge her arm. “I don’t know. I mean, I didn't see him with anyone at the game…” You say your voice drifting off before you're back to your senses. “Whether or not he's single is irrelevant! He’s a complete asshole.”

“Just because he's an asshole doesn’t mean he’s not good in bed.”

The death glare you give her is intense and could be considered lethal, but she laughs it off. 

“Let’s be honest, if you weren’t attracted to him, you wouldn’t be so riled up.”

“Oh, please, I’m not into evil blonde men.”

Is he hot? Yes. But his evilness outweighs the hotness. 

“Well, the evil blonde man is coming your way.”

You look towards the end of the aisle to see that Ava was right, so you immediately duck down behind a tower of soup cans. 

“Please come out from over there,” Ava whispers but you protest, hoping you can camouflage yourself and become one with the cans.

Ten seconds pass, and you hear your name in that familiar voice and know you’ve been caught.

“Oh. Hi.”

Your attempt at being nonchalant is honestly pitiful, but not more pitiful than him knowing you were hiding from him.

“Don’t mind me, go back to whatever this is,” He says, gesturing to your hunched-over, goblin-like stance. He reaches over you and grabs a can off the shelf, walking off without another word. 

“See? No need to panic. He was perfectly civil,” Ava chimes in.

“Only because he caught me in a state of weakness. He has the upper hand, and he’s already plotting against me. I can feel it.”

“He’s a soccer dad, not a supervillain,” Ava sighs, helping you off the floor, concerned about the effect he was having on you, but then again, she was always concerned about you. You regularly lose your mind at your daughter’s soccer games so she has just cause. 

“I need to grab the wine, I’ll meet you at the checkout,�� Ava says, and you nod, letting her walk off. 

You had to circle back around to get the limited edition coffee you had become obsessed with anyway. You get to the aisle and your eyes widen when you realise that there’s only one left. Your hand flies to grab it, you can already imagine it in your trolley, and it looks good. It looks happy, like it's ready to be at home in your pantry.

But at the same time, another hand wraps around it, the hand belonging to John, because fate was still playing in your face. 

“You.”

You thought you were done with him for the day. Clearly, the universe had other plans.

John raises an eyebrow, not letting go. “Come on. Be a gentleman and give it to me,” You say, trying to force a smile. 

Your grip tightens, so does his.

“I don’t think so,” he says smoothly, as if he weren’t just on the verge of sparking a full-blown aisle standoff. “It’s the last one.”

“I know.”

“I’ll have to go across town for another,” You say, your eyebrows knitting together. 

“Cry about it.”

You tug on it a little, but he doesn’t budge. The item wobbles dangerously between your hands.

“Are you even trying?” he asks. He was so good at being a smug bastard, you wonder if he was born like this or if he honed this craft. You open your mouth to really let him have it, but you don’t even get the chance. 

Without another word, he snatches it clean from your hand in one smooth move, drops it into his trolley like he just won Olympic gold, and starts walking away, whistling.

You stand there, mildly offended but mostly impressed.

“Oh no, you did not just—” you march after him.

“Too slow, sweetheart,” he calls over his shoulder without turning around. “Better luck next time.”

“I hope it’s expired!” you shout after him.

You stop walking and watch as he struts off with your coffee like he was the King of Aisle Seven, you were planning his downfall in at least three different ways.

And two of them involved shopping carts.

After the grocery store incident, you were looking forward to having a reprieve from John Walker. But it was like fate or something more evil was forcing the two of you together. You have a PTA meeting the next night, and who do you see there but John, who was now becoming a permanent fixture in your life. 

You sigh and sit beside the only empty seat, which was next to him.

“Let’s not even speak,” You suggest you say as soon as your butt hits the seat.

“Fine with me,” John replies as he crosses his arms, looking away from you. 

You sit there tapping your foot. It was almost painful being silent when everyone else was having conversations. Especially when you were next to a thief. You didn’t even get the opportunity to yell at him properly for swiping your coffee.

You finally break, “What you did yesterday was shitty.”

“And I thought we weren’t going to speak.”

“I’ll be sick if I don’t call out injustice when I see it.”

John laughs, and you want to strangle him. “You’re still thinking about that? I’m constantly on your mind, aren’t I?”

You shift in your seat, feeling the heat climbing up the back of your neck. How dare he even suggest that? Yes, you were thinking about him, but only about all the ways you wanted to destroy him.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snap under your breath.

The meeting starts before he can muster up a comeback. You catch yourself zoning out as the agenda drags on, filled with tedious updates about the bake sale and a desperate plea for chaperones for the 3rd-grade trip to Lake Maribelle.

You swing your leg absentmindedly and accidentally bump his shin. It’s genuinely an accident.

“Did you just kick me?” he whispers.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t taking up half the space with your big—”

“You’re unbelievable—” He interrupts, turning his body to face you.

“Gangly legs, then you wouldn’t have gotten hit,” You whisper your sentence over his.

Your whispered bickering is only interrupted by the teacher at the front calling both your names.

“You’ll help chaperone the trip to Lake Maribelle?”

With all those expectant eyes on you, how could either of you say no?

“Yeah…”

“Of course…”

You both reply sheepishly at the same time.

“Great, I’ll sign the two of you up.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

Stepping onto the bus, you watch as Lily disappears to go sit with her friend, leaving you with a slight pang of loneliness. You head to the front and slump into your seat, next to who else but John, because you can’t even be surprised. You really needed to start arriving at places earlier to avoid sitting next to him, but here you were.

It’s a four-hour ride, and you can already feel your exhaustion creeping in. You try to keep yourself alert, but your eyes are heavy. Before you know it, your head tilts to the side, falling onto his shoulder.

John glances down at you, noticing how tired you look. He’s always been perceptive like that. He doesn’t say anything at first, just shifts slightly to give you more space. But when he feels you drift further, he gently shifts, adjusting his posture. His shoulder feels like a small slice of comfort amidst the exhaustion.

He lets you use his shoulder the whole ride. You looked quite peaceful when you weren’t trying to rip his head off, quite beautiful too. John catches the thought and tosses it out. He couldn’t be caught slipping, you were his mortal enemy after all.

The bus reaches the camp, and suddenly, it jerks to a stop. Your head flies forward, but before you can react, John’s hand shoots out, catching your forehead in the palm of his hand just in time.

“Thanks,” you mumble, a little embarrassed but too tired to really care.

He just hums in response, his fingers lightly grazing your skin for just a second longer than necessary. “Quick reflexes.”

Hoping off the bus, you notice the camp leaders waiting to greet the kids. You stand off to the side ensuring everyone gets off the bus when you notice one of the teachers, Miss. Lucas, sidling up next to John, laughing a little too loudly at something he barely said. Your eyes narrow without even realising it, and your fist subconsciously tightens. It’s like a sudden surge of irritation hits you.

The worst part is that you don’t even know why you're so bothered. You’re pretty sure it's just your general distaste for him as a person, and anything he does seems to irritate you. That felt like the easiest explanation. No need to dig deeper into that nagging feeling in your chest, like someone’s poking it with a stick. You shake it off, willing yourself to focus on something else, anything else.

After you get the kids all settled in for the first activity, though, it hits you like a ton of bricks. The exhaustion. You’re winded in a way you don’t remember being before. You try to shake it off, but it’s clear that you’ve reached your limit for the day. This trip wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be, and now, even a simple walk feels like you’ve run a marathon.

You take a deep breath, looking around for a moment to regain your composure. There's no need to make a bigger deal out of it. Just power through, you tell yourself. But it’s harder than you expected, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s more than just the physical exhaustion that's weighing on you.

But at least John was out of sight. You didn’t have to see him on the nature walk or the obstacle course, but you’d have to supervise the canoeing together. You make it out there first, sitting on the dock as the kids are getting in the canoes with the instructors. A smile tugs at your lips as you see how excited Lily is, her face lighting up as she waits for her turn, then spotting you in the crowd. She waves enthusiastically, and you wave back, your heart swelling just a little at the sight of her so happy.

“Nice day out,” John says, looking out at the water. You’re shaken to your core. Not just because you didn’t hear him walk up, but because of what he said. What was this? A normal conversation starter?

You open your mouth to respond, but you're cut off by Miss. Lucas' syrupy voice slicing through the moment like a dull butter knife.

“It really is, and John, you really should wear sunglasses. With how blue your eyes are, the way the sun hits them is just distracting,” she purrs, twirling a lock of her overly straightened hair.

It’s laced with flirtation and just enough condescension to make your skin crawl.

You roll your eyes — hard.

John notices.

“What? You don’t like the sun?” he asks, amused now, that sharp gaze flicking to you like he already knows he’s poking the bear.

“I like the sun,” you answer evenly.

“Then what were you rolling your eyes at, huh?”

You’re so tempted to say exactly what’s on your mind. To call out Miss. Lucas’s thinly veiled thirst trap of a compliment, but you catch yourself. The last thing you need is her holding some petty grudge against Lily over adult nonsense.

So instead, you force a too-sweet smile and say, “None of your business.”

He chuckles, clearly entertained.

Miss. Lucas doesn’t seem to notice any of it. She’s still lingering like a wasp at a picnic.

John tilts his head, a grin still playing at his lips. “Touchy.”

Stepping into your space, he does that thing, that infuriating thing, where he leans in just enough to make your breath hitch but not enough to break any rules.

You guys just couldn’t seem to be near each other without someone stepping over the invisible line.

“And you’re observant,” you shoot back, voice low. “Someone might think you’re a little obsessed.”

His brow lifts. “Is that right?”

“You know what? I’m sorry, I'm being rude. Let me ask you this,” you say, your voice sweet and dangerous all at once, “Do you like water?”

“What kind of question is—?”

Splash.

He never finishes.

You shove him clean off the dock, and he crashes into the freezing lake with a satisfying crash. A few heads turn at the sound, followed by laughter, mostly from the kids.

John surfaces, sputtering, slicking his hair back with both hands as he glares up at you like a betrayed golden retriever.

“It’s freezing!” he shouts.

“Oh no,” you gasp dramatically, hand to your chest. “Is it? I had no idea.”

He blinks the water from his eyes, slow and deliberate, before gripping the edge of the dock with both hands and pulling himself up in one smooth, effortless motion.

It’s… a problem.

You might hate the man, scratch that, you definitely hate the man, but God help you, he had the audacity to look good doing literally anything. The sunlight caught the drops of water rolling down his arms, his shirt plastered to the ridges of his abs and the degenerate part of your brain wanting to see them with his shirt off. 

His hair dripped, tousled and messy in a way that looked too perfect to be accidental. It was like watching someone climb out of a cologne commercial.

You bite your lip instinctively, then immediately cover it up with a cough and a scowl.

He strides toward you, soaking wet, every squelching footstep a declaration of petty war. You’re forced to crane your neck to meet his eyes as he stops in front of you.

“You’re lucky,” he says, water still dripping from his sleeves, “that one of us knows how to act like an adult.”

You raise your eyebrows, lips twitching despite yourself. “You sure it’s you?”

He huffs a humourless laugh, then turns and walks down the dock toward the cabins, leaving behind a trail of wet footprints and a hundred silent thoughts you’re too proud to say out loud.

You watch him go and tell yourself it’s because you want to see if there’s the off chance he falls in. 

Definitely not because of the view.

You’re watching your back the rest of the day, fully expecting some form of petty revenge. A frog in your shoe, a cold fish under your pillow, maybe even your toothbrush mysteriously tasting like lake water. But nothing happens.

No pranks. No payback.

You’re in the clear.

Now, sitting by the campfire, the sky a hazy lavender above the treeline, things feel… calm. The kids are running wild around the open field, fireflies blinking to life as marshmallows roast and someone strums a guitar softly in the distance.

“Hi,” a small voice says beside you.

You turn and see Tommy, John’s son, standing there with a hesitant smile.

“Hey, having fun?” you ask, shifting to make room.

He nods and sits next to you, pulling his knees up to his chest. “The nature walk was pretty cool, and me and my friends loved  the obstacle course. And the canoeing was fun too… even though you pushed my dad in the lake.”

You groan lightly, a hand going to your face. “Yeah, about that…”

The guilt hits, a pang of embarrassment. You knew your behaviour was juvenile. Funny, sure, but maybe not your finest moment, especially in front of the kids.

You laugh under your breath and shake your head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It was pretty funny,” Tommy admits, “And I know you and my dad have problems.”

You feel even more ashamed that it was bleeding into your kids' lives too.

“My dad can be a lot,” he says, kicking a pebble with the toe of his shoe. “But he’s just… I don’t know. He tries really hard. Especially for me.”

It helped you understand John a little better. The bluster, the sarcasm, the stubborn streak a mile wide… It wasn’t just pride or ego. It was effort. The kind that comes from someone trying to do right, even if it comes out messy. You could appreciate that because you were the same way.

And if he’d raised such a polite kid, then he couldn’t be all bad. Not even close.

“Have you seen him, by the way?” Tommy asks.

“Not lately,” you say, then gesture toward the table behind you. “But you can have some marshmallows while you wait, if you want.”

“Sure!” he says, lighting up as he grabs a stick and starts roasting.

John comes back to see something he wasn't expecting. The bane of his existence, laughing with his son and roasting marshmallows. Tommy didn’t warm up to most people that easily, so when he sees him lighting up with you, his opinion of you shifts. Maybe you weren’t an evil witch. 

You still got a bucket of freezing lake water poured over you the next morning, though. 

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

You’re out running errands, finally—blissfully—alone. Lily’s spending the weekend at your parents' place, which meant you had time to catch your breath, clean without stepping on glitter, and maybe finally recover from the whirlwind that was the school trip.

You understood John better. You still thought he was annoyingly smug, sure, but maybe not completely irredeemable.

But you weren’t getting ahead of yourself. He was still the same cocky asshole you met yelling across a soccer field... right?

Just as you’re mulling that over, tongue in cheek, deciding if you’d imagined all the softness, you feel your car begin to slow down.

“What the—?”

You frown, tapping the gas. Nothing. A few panicked beeps. Then a sputter.

You manage to pull off to the side of the road just as the engine completely gives out, your car coasting to a reluctant stop.

“No, no, no!” you shout, slamming your palms against the steering wheel.

This couldn’t be happening. Not today. Not when you finally had a few hours of peace and you were this close to getting Thai food and going home to binge terrible reality TV.

With a heavy sigh, you get out and open the bonnet, even though you have no idea what you’re looking for. Wires? Steam? A glowing red light labeled you’re screwed?

You’re standing there, staring blankly into the guts of your car, when you hear it, a car slowing down behind you and parking behind you. 

You barely glance back, already waving them off. “Thanks, I’m good—”

But then you hear a too-familiar voice say, “Well, that doesn’t look promising.”

Of course.

You turn around slowly.

And there he is.

John Walker, ladies and gentlemen. 

“Need a hand?” he asks, already strolling over like he’s been waiting his whole life to rescue you.

“I uh…” You start becasure you’re so tempted to say “I got this” but the moment your eyes look back at whatever the fuck is going on in your car, you sigh.

“Do you have a toolbox?” he’d asked.

“Yeah, it’s in the boot,” you’d said, thinking nothing of it.

Then he came back, popped the hood, and casually peeled his shirt off with a warning: “Don’t read into anything. I just don’t want grease on my shirt.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you replied, a little too quickly.

You didn’t say anything, but that sure as hell didn’t stop you from watching. Because damn. The man was all broad shoulders, and strong arms that had no business looking that good twisting bolts.

You could’ve watched him work all day.

“Try starting it,” he called, interrupting your horny thoughts.

You slid back into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and the engine roared to life. It’s a miracle.

“Thank you, seriously.”

He leaned over the hood, smug smile fully loaded. “No problem. That should get you moving, but you definitely need to take this to a garage. I can come with you, if you want.”

Seeing the way your face contorts, he follows up with an explanation before you start berating him again. 

“You’ll need a ride home after, won’t you?”

“Oh, true… I guess I’ll take you up on your offer. I mean as long as I'm not keeping you from Tommy, am I?” You say as you watch him put his shirt back on.

“No, he's at his grandparents’ place.”

“Oh same with Lily,” You admit.

“Guess we have some errands to run together then.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

You arrive back home in his car and say “Home sweet home,” because you didn’t know what the fuck you were talking baout. Ever since you watched him fix your car, haggle down the price of your repair with the mechanic and drive you home, you’d been in a bit of a daze. A ‘John Walker is the perfect man’ daze to be exact.

“Do you ... wanna come in?” You say, the words escaping you, but what you didn’t expect was his reply.

“Sure.”

You welcome him in, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest as John casually walks around your house. 

It was clean, for once and cosy too, filled with little signs of your life with Lily. Pictures lined the walls: school plays, messy birthday parties, soccer games. Her drawings were stuck to the fridge with mismatched magnets.

“This you?” John asks, voice tinged with amusement.

You turn to see him holding a framed photo from the shelf, a younger you, maybe around Lily’s age, standing proudly in a baseball uniform, cap askew and a dirt-smudged grin on your face.

You roll your eyes but smile. “Yeah. I peaked in Little League.”

He chuckles, eyes still on the photo. “You look like you were about to take someone out at home plate.”

“I probably did.”

He glances over at you, that familiar smirk on his face. “Not much has changed then.”

You snort. “Are you calling me aggressive?”

“I’m saying I’d definitely want you on my team,” he replies, setting the photo down gently. “You were a force to be reckoned with, no doubt,” he says with a chuckle.

“Always.”

“Are there more?” he asks, leaning a little closer with that annoyingly charming glint in his eye.

You cross your arms, sitting back a little as you narrow your eyes. “Nuh uh. We are not going through my baby pictures.”

“Yes, we are.”

And five minutes later, you were both on the couch with a photo album spread across your lap.

“You even look like a soccer ball in this one,” he teases, pointing to a photo of you in a puffy striped onesie.

“I bet you were an ugly baby,” you fire back, sticking your tongue out at him.

“I’ll have you know I was adorable. Practically a Gerber baby.”

He flips a page and pauses. “Is this you or Lily?”

“That’s Lily,” you say, your smile softening.

“She looks just like you.”

“I like to call her my twin,” you laugh. “And she hates it.”

Time ticks by, and you barely even notice it. The room has dimmed with the setting sun, shadows creeping in, and a warmth building low in your stomach. You’ve been flipping through photo albums for what must’ve been hours, laughing and teasing each other like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Then you hear it, John’s stomach growling, loud and unmistakable. You glance at him, and he’s already giving you a sheepish smile. Clearly, you’re both thinking the same thing.

“I was going to order Thai,” you say casually. “If you wanted to stay for dinner.”

He hesitates for only a second. “I’d like that.”

Later, the two of you are curled up on the couch, takeout containers spread between you, Real Housewives playing in the background. The chaotic drama on screen contrasts with the quiet ease between you.

It had been so long since you’d just relaxed like this with someone—someone who wasn’t Ava or Lily. And it felt good. Easy. Right.

“I have a suggestion, feel free to say no.”

“Hit me,” John says, leaning back against the couch, one arm draped over the cushion behind you.

You bite back a grin. “I have a bottle of whiskey that’s begging to be opened. Wanna throw on some music and help me put it out of its misery?”

He lifts an eyebrow, a slow smile creeping onto his face. “Why not?”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

You shouldn’t drink around him. At this point, you were touchy and honestly just saying shit for the sake of saying shit. You’re not too drunk but definitely tipsy enough to say whatever comes to your mind. 

“I haven’t seen Tommy’s mom around. Did you guys split up?” you blurt out, half-curious, half-dreading the answer. You feel a drop in the atmosphere as his hands seem to tighten on the glass. 

“Sorry, you don’t need to answer. That was weird of me to ask…” You're trying to backtrack as quickly as possible.

“Oh no, it’s okay, she uh,” he says quietly. “She passed a few years ago.”

You pause, your posture softening. “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s alright,” he says, voice low but steady. “Still tough without her, but we manage.”

He glances down, like he’s trying to ground himself before continuing.

“I’d like to say I was a good husband, but I was always away in the army. I could’ve been better before she…” He trails off, eyes now solely focused on the liquid swirling in his glass. 

You stay quiet, wanting to listen rather than rush in. 

“When I came back from my last tour, she was already sick. But for a while, we were okay. We were happy. Then she got worse. It was hard seeing her like that when she was so full of life before I left. I felt like I had missed so much, and when she…” He pauses again, his voice catching in his throat like he was being choked. 

“Tommy’s the only thing that kept me going after. I’m always scared I’ll mess things up with him and miss the important stuff. That I already am.”

He exhales sharply, almost laughing at himself. “Shit. Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“Not at all,” you say gently, shaking your head. “And I can tell you’re a good dad. Anyone can. He's such a sweet kid and he adores you.”

He looks at you then, and for once, there’s no smirk, no one-liner. Just quiet gratitude.

“Thanks,” he says. “That means more than you know.”

You both take another drink, the burn lingering in your throat like something you don’t mind holding onto for a while.

“What about you? I noticed there aren’t any pictures of Lily’s dad around,” he asks, voice softer now, like he’s not just making conversation anymore.

“We got divorced ages ago. He was a total disaster.”

You let out a dry laugh, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

 “We got married too young, had Lily, got divorced two years in and… I honestly can’t even remember the last time he showed up for her. No birthday messages, no calls. Nothing.”

You pause, trying not to let the anger twist your words.

“It’s a shame because she’s so amazing,” you add, staring into your glass. “And her dad doesn't give her the time of day and never has. She deserves so much better than that, and I wish I could be everything for her, but I…”

John’s quiet, listening. Really listening, giving you the space that you gave him. 

“It’s hard doing it on your own,” you say, looking up at him. “I know you get that.”

He nods slowly, then offers a small, warm smile. “It’s his loss. She’s a kick-ass kid with a pretty kick-ass mom.”

You laugh, the real kind this time.

“I genuinely thought you were about to fight me the day we met,” he says, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

You grin. “I was about to fight you.”

“Very hot.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling and, for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel exhausting to let someone in.

“Okay, Mr. Tight-White-Shirt,” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

He smirks instantly. “Ah, so you were ogling me that day.”

Damn. You walked right into that one.

“A woman can’t appreciate the male form?” you say, all mock innocence.

John laughs, shaking his head as he takes another drink. The music shifts, a different song now, low and smooth, some classic jazz number that’s always sounded like warmth and memory and late nights.

You perk up instantly. “John, we have to dance.”

He blinks. “What?”

“C’mon!”

Before he can argue, you’re already pulling him to his feet drunkenly. He hesitates for half a second, then relents because, of course, he does. His hands find your waist, cautious at first, and you wrap your arms around his neck as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I can’t remember the last time I slow danced,” you murmur against his chest.

“Same,” John says quietly. “In all honesty, it was… probably my wedding.”

 “Damn, me too,” You let out a low laugh. “Did you go all out?”

“We tried,” he nods. “We had lessons and everything. I remember practising in our tiny apartment, knocking over chairs and swearing a ton.”

She grins. “I bet you were shit.”

John, very much in ‘John’ fashion, gasps. “Correction, I was the shit.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna show you. Get ready to be dipped.”

Your eyes widen as you look up at him, suspicion written all over your face. “No way. You’ll drop me.”

He smirks. “I won’t. Trust me. I’m strong and very capable.”

Before you can protest again, he spins you, just fast enough to make your stomach flip. And you squeal, laughing as you come back into his arms.

“See?” he says, proud as hell. “Didn’t hurt a hair on your pretty head.”

You’re still laughing, slightly breathless, heart thudding in your chest for reasons that have very little to do with the dancing.

“I hate to say it,” you murmur, “but that was quite smooth.”

“Careful. Keep talking like that, and I might think you like me.”

You look up at him and realise, you’ve never been this close to him, unless you count getting in his face at a soccer match, but this was different. It was a whole new type of tension. 

“Whatever…” you say, but it comes out with no bite. Not even close.

Maybe because you’re tipsy, but under the dim lighting of your living room, with the jazz still murmuring in the background and that stupid, crooked smile on his face.

You reach up, fingers brushing his cheek before you even fully realise what you're doing.

“I like your beard,” you blurt out, your thumb lightly grazing the line of it.

He blinks, surprised, not because of what you said, but because of how gently you said it.

“Yeah?” he says, voice a little quieter now.

He’s not able to get another word out before you’re kissing him, soft and tender. His hands cup your face as he kisses you like there’s a magnet pulling you to him. Your hands roaming over each other’s bodies, hands desperate to touch skin. He lifts you off the floor, your lips not breaking contact. You wrap your legs around his waist and his hands cup your ass as he walks you over to a wall. Pressing you against it and kissing your neck like he’s trying to consume you. “Oh, John…”

Breathing heavily and looking into each other’s eyes.“Upstairs, first door on the right.”

Your back hits the wall again, but gently this time, his lips brushing over yours before pulling back just enough to ask, “You sure?”

You nod, breathless. “Go.”

He carries you like it’s effortless, one hand steady beneath your thigh, the other gripping the bannister as he takes the stairs two at a time.

Reaching the top, he kicks the door open with his foot. The room is dim, the late evening light bleeding through the curtains, but neither of you cares. You pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. His mouth is on yours again before it hits the ground.

You fall into the bed together, tangled and wild and urgent, but with something else beneath it all. Something tender. Like every kiss and touch is catching up on lost time you didn’t even know you missed.

“Mind if I leave marks?”

“You can,” You gasp out and he goes to work, biting and sucking your skin. In all honesty, your drunk brain needed a memento, a way to remind sober-you that this wasn’t some sex dream. 

You feel his strong hands wrap around your wrists, and he squeezes them. Not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel his presence. 

“I want you,” John breathes and it sounds so good hearing it. Like you had both finally done away with pretense and given in to what you wanted to do since you met which was rip your clothes off and fuck eachother senseless. 

He starts kissing his way down your body, taking  his sweet time in making you feel good. Reveling in the way you react to him.

When he reaches your panties, he doesn’t hesitate to tug them off his teeth and the sight of him doing that nearly kills you. 

He starts eating you out like a man possessed, his beard tickling your inner thighs. He needs your pussy on his face and he needs it now. As he licks and sucks, driving you insane, your legs start slowly closing, trying to shy away from how good it felt. He catches them, prying them back open. 

“Keep them open for me.”

You nod but he wants more than that.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll keep my legs open for you,” You say and you think you’d do the splits on his face if he wanted. 

“Good girl,” he smirks before going back to ruining you. It had been too long since you felt like this, but even then, you had never felt like this. You were feverish and sensitive, fighting to keep yourself sane. You never recall feeling like you were dying of happiness when anyone else had gone down on you. Must be the John Walker effect.

The more you struggle and shake, the more pressure he applies. His hand rests on your stomach to hold you in place as he sucks on your clit.

Feeling the pleasure growing, you instantly try to muffle your moans with your fist. He moves his mouth away from your aching core and reaches up with one of his hands, moving your fist away. You look at him with reverence and surprise.

“You don’t need to hide…” He says, his other hand still moving inside you, “I want to hear you.”

You don’t speak right away. You just look at him, this man who had once driven you absolutely insane, who now felt like the only person who could see through all the armour.

“I’m not used to being seen,” you finally whisper.

“I know,” John says, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “But I see you.”

He moves back into position between your legs, and you let him have every moan you have. 

“John!” 

You finish, back arching, legs trembling and clenching down on his head with your thighs so hard you’re scared you might kill him. 

But he doesn't stop, instead going faster. “H-hey!” You moan out as you kick your legs around, which he clearly takes as a challenge.

Wrangling your legs and pinning them over your head, your body now in the shape of a backwards C.

“You’re lucky I’m not tying you up,” John comments and you shiver at how good that sounds. 

He gets up on his knees, continuing to lick at your trembling folds as he fingers you even faster, adding a third finger that had you moaning in desperation.

It's like he's set your whole body on fire, the feeling of your lost orgasm threatening to push you straight into another one.

“John, it’s so…” You croak, your eyes focusing and unfocusing. “Think I’m gonna cum again.”

At this point, your voice is hoarse, each touch he’s giving you making you scream and cry out like you’ve never done before. 

“Yeah? You wanna be a good girl and cum for me?”

You nod, your eyes gassy with tears, “Wanna be your…your good girl.”

You could feel something coming, as he goes back to sucking on your clit, his fingers massaging your G-spot. 

It only takes a few moments before you're letting your body relax and squirt all over his fingers, the pleasure washing over you in waves. You’re too undone to make a noise, breathing heavily and choking on air. There are a few seconds where you think you’ve died.

He unfolds you, and you lie back down on the bed, needing him instantly. 

“John,” You whine, reaching out for him, and he’s right there, pulling you into his arms and taking care of you.

“What about you?” You ask. He had just about taken you to heaven and believe me you wanted to return the favour.

“Next time.”

Your heart flutters with the thought of a ‘next time’.

“Okay,” You snuggle against him and fall asleep together in pure bliss.  

You wake up in the morning, expecting to feel John’s arms around you. But there's no one there. You sit up and look around, but find nothing. No note explaining where he was and his car's no longer in the driveway.

You came to the conclusion, he woke up, saw you and decided that it was a mistake. It was disappointing but you’re used to being disappointed.

So much for ‘I see you’. 

So much for ‘next time’.

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

The next couple of days are a blur, it’s back to business as usual. Soccer practice, laundry, answering emails with a fake sense of urgency. To anyone else, it seemed like nothing had changed, but not to your daughter.

“I saw Tommy yesterday,” she says casually as she sets her backpack down.

“Oh? How is he?” you ask, trying to sound neutral.

“Great, but his dad didn’t look too happy…”

Your ears perk up at that. He was also miserable? Good. It was his fault anyway… wasn’t it?

“You don’t look happy either.”

You flinch at how blunt she is. You should’ve known, there was no hiding anything from her. She might only be a kid, but she could read you like a book.

“Lily…” you start, but she cuts you off with the maturity of someone far beyond her years.

“Just be adults and talk to him…”

“It's not that simple,” Your voice is shaky with uncertainty. You're not even sure you'd be able to speak if you were face-to-face with him again.

“Well you need to especially since I’m going over to Tommy’s today.”

“You what?” you say, nearly falling out of your chair.

“You said I could,” she adds quickly. “Last week, before… whatever this is.”

Damn it. She was right. You had completely blanked on that. It was before the whole thing with John went bust.

You were conflicted with how you felt about John, but you wouldn’t let your issues affect her. 

“Fine, go get your stuff. We leave in five.”

You drive over to his place, your heart dropping lower and lower as you get closer to his house. Your fingers grip your steering wheel like it’s your lifeline. 

“You’re not coming in to say hi?” Lily asks almost incredulously.

“I think it’s best I don’t. I’ll be here at 6 to pick you up. Have fun!”

Lily doesn’t say anything at first; she just looks at you, brows raised, lips pursed like she’s debating whether or not to push. Was that what it was like to be on the receiving end of one of your judging looks? You didn't like it one bit. 

But in the end, she sighs, unbuckles her seatbelt, and grabs her bag. “You two are so dramatic.”

He sees her first, ruffles her hair, then his gaze shifts past her, locking with yours through the windshield. It only lasts a second, but it’s enough. You look away first.

Then you drive off, trying not to think about him. 

Hours pass, John is very much on your mind the entire time, and before you know it, you’re back at his house to pick up Lily. Walking your way up the driveway, you feel your nerves creeping in. You hesitate a second before ringing the doorbell.

“Hey,” John greets you, opening the door—and he looks just as good as the last time you saw him, maybe even better.

“Hey yourself,” you reply awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

There's the sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs, and then Tommy appears, greeting you with a wide grin.

“It’s time to go already?” Lily calls from behind him, voice dripping with faux innocence. She was laying it on thick.

Before you can answer, Tommy jumps in. “Can you and Lily stay for dinner?”

“I don’t know…” You start, unsure how to say no politely.

“Dad, convince her. We’re having your famous spagbol,” Tommy adds, eyes hopeful.

You catch the look on his face—so earnest, so excited—and then turn to John. An easy smile creeps onto your face despite yourself. 

“Famous, huh?”

John smirks. “It’s pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

By the time dinner is ready, it feels easy with him, dangerously easy. You sit around the table with him and the kids, laughing between bites of spaghetti, the kind of domestic quiet that used to feel foreign now curling around you like a blanket. It felt so right. But still, there’s that persistent whisper in the back of your mind — If he wanted this, really wanted this, he would’ve stayed that night.

Before you can spiral too deep into your own thoughts, Tommy pipes up brightly, “Can Lily and I have a sleepover?”

You glance at John, caught off guard. “Lily and I should really get going, plus Lily doesn’t have anything to change into.”

“I brought clothes and my toothbrush,” Lily says far too quickly.

You narrow your eyes. “And why did you do that if you were just supposed to stay for the afternoon?”

Lily and Tommy exchange a look — a guilty, sheepish look that screams we planned this.

John chuckles under his breath, clearly catching on. “I wouldn’t mind,” he says, glancing at you. “I could set up a spot for Lily in Tommy’s room.”

“You should stay too!” Tommy adds enthusiastically, eyes shining with innocent matchmaking energy.

“I don’t have any pyjamas to sleep in, Tom,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“You can borrow my dad’s!” he says like it’s the simplest solution in the world.

You blink. These kids were really committing to the bit.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude…” You begin, your voice a little quieter, your gaze flicking to John.

“You wouldn’t be,” he says, meeting your eyes. “I have a guest room. It’s yours if you want it.”

His voice is calm, but there’s something soft in it. An invitation. Like he wanted you to stay. 

“It’s decided then,” Your daughter interjects before you can try to squirm out of it.

You had been tricked by two 9-year-olds; this was a new low. 

The hours drifted by as you sat in the living room, all watching a movie together.

Your eyes were fixed on the screen, but all you could think about was John. The fact that sitting just a few feet away, but still felt so far away. 

Though if you had turned your head to look at him, you would’ve seen him looking back at you. His gaze would tell you everything you wanted to hear, but alas, that isn’t fate’s plan. 

The movie ends, and the kids groan when John tells them it’s time for bed. It’s a whirlwind, as they rush around tuckering themselves out. Entering Tommy’s room, you go over to Lily, who’s already in bed, ready for you to tuck her in. You pull the blanket up to Lily’s chin, smoothing her hair like you do most nights, your voice soft in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

“Remember, be an adult,” Lily says, reminding you not to be a coward, essentially. 

“Goodnight, Lil,” You reply before kissing her forehead. Maybe, just maybe, you’d consider her words. 

“Goodnight, Mom,” she murmurs, already half-dreaming.

You stand slowly, and as you turn to leave, you notice Tommy looking at you. His eyes are peeking out from under his blanket, lids heavy but alert.

You pause. “Do you want me to tuck you in, too?”

He hesitates, then gives the smallest nod, like he’s not quite sure he should, but wants to anyway.

You gently and carefully tuck him into his covers like you had with Lily. “There,” you whisper. “Comfy?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, rubbing one eye. “Thanks, Mom.”

You’re shocked hearing him call you ‘Mom’. You glance down at him, already drifting off, lashes fluttering against his cheeks, completely unaware of the weight his words carried.

You swallow and manage a quiet, “Goodnight,” brushing his hair back gently before slipping out of the room. What you don’t know is that on the other side of the hallway, just out of sight, John is standing perfectly still.

He’d heard it too.

He didn’t know how to respond to it either, wasn’t sure what it meant or what came next, but for now, he was just… happy. Happy that his son felt safe with you. 

Later that night, you lie flat on your back, staring at the ceiling of the guest room, your thoughts louder than the quiet hum of the house. The shadows shift with the streetlight outside, but your mind stays frozen. You were wearing his shirt, and he was on your mind. It smelled like him, and you could imagine his arms around you. You bury your face in it, wishing that he was with you and not in a room down the hallway. 

You needed to confront what happened that night. You hadn’t talked about it since. It lingered like static between you, unspoken but never forgotten. And you couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t matter, not when it meant everything. 

You needed to know if he wanted you when you’re both sober.

So, gathering every ounce of courage, you throw off the blanket, slide quietly out of bed, and make your way down the hall to his room. The floor feels colder than you expected. Or maybe that’s just your nerves.

You stop in front of his door.

Raise your fist.

And then… freeze.

You stand there for what feels like forever, five minutes, at least, your knuckles hovering midair. Your heart pounds loud enough to fill the silence, your thoughts racing. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if that night was just a mistake?

Suddenly, the door swings open, and it startles the living hell out of you — your fist, already midair, connects squarely with his face.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper-shout, eyes wide as John stumbles back, one hand instantly flying to his nose.

“Shit,” he groans, squinting in pain and trying to blink away the surprise. “You can throw quite a punch.”

“Oh my god, John. Holy fuck. I am so, so sorry,” you ramble, panic surging through you as you hover uselessly in front of him. “Let me get ice, I’ll fix it… just, don’t die.”

You spin around and scuttle off toward the kitchen, trying to keep your footsteps light even though your heart’s thudding like a drum solo. The freezer is a disaster. No ice trays. Who doesn’t have ice trays?

You spot something. Grab it.

Moments later, you return with a sheepish expression and a frozen bag clutched in your hand.

“I couldn’t find an ice tray,” you mutter, pressing the bag gently to his face, “so I got peas.”

You sit down with him on the bed, holding the bag of peas to his nose. “That won’t bruise or anything, right?”

“No, I’ll be okay. Worried about my handsome face, are you?” John jokes, and you’re just glad he has a sense of humour about it. 

You groan and drop your forehead onto his shoulder, mortified. “This was not how I pictured this going.”

His hand gently touches the small of your back. “You were coming to talk to me, right? About… us?”

You nod against him. “Yeah. Before I assaulted you.”

“Let’s start there,” he says, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes with a crooked smile. “Because I was kinda hoping we’d finally talk about it too.”

“Really? It didn’t feel like that since you ran,” you say, voice low. You were trying not to sound hurt, but you were. He weighs like the weight of the world is on his shoulders and moves his bag of peas off his face to look at you.

“You’re right to be mad. I just… I panicked when I woke up next to you.”

“You were regretful,” you say, attempting to finish his sentence. His eyes widen, and his mouth parts like he’s about to protest.

“No, no—that’s not it at all. I was scared. That if you saw me when you woke up, you’d think it was a mistake.”

He takes a breath, shuffling closer. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. You’re such a pain in the ass, always calling me out and keeping me on my toes. But also kind, and funny, and you make me feel so… alive.”

His hand lifts gently, your cheek resting against his palm. It feels perfect, like this is what fate had in store all along.

“I'm an idiot for running but I do like you. I’m falling for you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smile, heart racing. “I’m falling for you, too, John Walker.”

Pulling him in, your hands still cold and wet from holding the bag of peas, but he doesn’t care. You kiss him like it’s the only thing keeping you upright—like if you stop, everything might collapse around you. 

The two of you pull your clothes off each other's bodies but there's no rush. Each layer that comes off brings you that much closer together.

Now completely naked you sit in front of him and you can see why he has all that confidence. His fingers tangle in your hair and he's about to kiss you when you stop him.

“Will they hear?”

“There's a couple rooms between us, they won't hear as long as you're not too loud.”

“We both know that's going to be a challenge,”You say, recalling the way you were hollering when he ate you out. Your surprised that none of your neighbours issued a noise complaint.

“You need to try or I'll have to find something to gag you with,” John suggests, his voice low and sultry.

“Don't threaten me with a good time.”

He pressures you back into the bed and bites your neck hard enough to leave a big mark.

“You better hope no one asks about that.”

“Let them ask, you can explain to them exactly what I did to you.”

The marks don't stop there. By the time he's done you look like you've been attacked by a wild animal. Hickeys and love bites littered all over your skin, each one a testament of John's desire for you.

“Need you inside me,” You pant out already guiding him towards you with your legs. 

He looks down at you with hooded eyes the anticipation eating you alive before he wraps his arms around you and crarryignyou off the bed.

“Where are we—?” You start but don't finish as you notice he's plopped you down right in front of a mirror.

It's the perfect solution for when someone wants to fuck you from behind and see you fall apart of their cock. Thank everything for whoever invented mirrors.

He lightly kicks your feet apart, hands gliding up your body before resting on your boobs.

You getting back against him, trying to feel him and needing him to fuck the daylights out of you. It had been long enough and you were tired of waiting. 

“Impatient, aren't you?”

“I just need you. Don't make me suffer,” You pout, the mirror capturing the needy look in your eyes. 

“Well, who am I to say no to you?” He says before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in.

Anticipating the screen you were about to let out, he covers your mouth with his hand.  Only the sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoing in the room. 

“Look at yourself, look at how quickly you feel apart for me,” John whispers against your ear. And he was right. You were a complete mess after only a few thrusts, eyes watery as your neck arches into him.

“So good,” You manage to get out without screaming. He grabs you by the hair, exposing your neck too him as he gives you a few more hickeys for good measure. Rocking your hips into you as he paints your neck with his lips.

Suddenly, your hips are being lifted into the air as he wraps his arms around you as if getting ready to suplex you. The way he starts fucking you is just as disorientating as a suplex would be. He's hitting your sensitive spot dead on turning your legs to jelly as they dangle in the air.

He's manhandling like you're a doll and you love it, especially when you can see it all happening in the mirror. The way his veins on his arms were popping with effort as he milks his cock with your pussy like you're a fleshlight.

“That's it, breed me, John.”

Hearing you say that only made him double his efforts.

“Is that what you want? Want me to get you pregnant?” John says, his fingers gripping your hips, clearly excited at the prospect. You nod desperately like you need to have it or you'll die.

You gasp, whimper, cry and reaching out for anything to keep you quiet.

“N-need you to fill me up,” You stutter out, “Need your cum in me.”

Then you're given a brief break when he pulls you back from the mirror, tossing you back into the bed. But two seconds don't even pass before he's feeding his cock back into your needy hole.

“J-john!”

You squeal a little too loudly and never you know it his hand is on your chin guiding your own panties in your mouth. 

“Such a pretty sight,” John says as he cages you, fingers intertwining as he pins you against the bed.

 You know you won't be able to keep going much longer. Wrecked doesn't even begin to describe what you were and your orgasm was about to knock you into a whole new dimension.

Feeling his cock twitch, you lock your legs around his waist and he finishes deep inside of you which triggers your own orgasm. His hot cum fills you up, painting your fluttering walls as he effectively breeds you.

The both of you lay there catching your breath as your orgasms pulse through you. This was what life was about; having sex with hot single dads. 

You come back to your senses, just barely and have an evil idea.

Seeing the opportunity fate had presented you for payback, you flip your positions climbing on top of him and riding him into overstimulation. A strangled cry that was supposed to be your name falling from his lips. 

“Baby…” John whimpers as his body tenses up, abs contracting lines he's already about to cum again.

You could get used to having him at your mercy, bottom lip trembling as he tries to keep it together. 

“I like seeing you like this. So desperate for me and only me.” You pulling him to your lips by his hair. He groans but he's into it, he'd let you have your way with him just as much as you let him have his way with you.

“Only you,” He replies and you believe it. 

Your hand away from his hair, letting John's head hit the mattress, before going in and leaving your own string of love bites. He bites his lip, all but writhing under your soft touch. 

“Someone might see those.”

“Then you can explain to them what I did,” You say throwing his words back in his face.

You keep fucking until you tire yourselves out, your bodies sticky and heaving. It was as good as you imagined it would be and you're kicking yourself for not giving in earlier.

John's hand rests on your thigh tracing little patterns as you play with his hair when he asks a very pertinent question.

“Are you on birth control?”

Your eyes widen when you realise you are in fact not on birth control. With the downright sad lack of sex you were having before John walked into your life there was no reason to be on it.

“No”, You gulp,“We'll talk about it in the morning?”

John hums in agreement and holds you against his chest in a vice grip that screams “You're mine.”

In the morning, you’re happy to feel John’s arms still wrapped around you, his face pressed against your shoulder, his breath slow and even. Peaceful.

“Who wants pancakes?” you call out, later in the kitchen, sliding a golden stack onto the table with a grin.

You have a slow, sweet morning breakfast—the kind where everyone’s still in pyjamas, laughing over spilt flour and slightly burnt edges.

“Oh! Let me go get the syrup. Can you show me where it is, Tommy?” you ask.

Tommy nods enthusiastically, hopping up and heading toward the pantry with you, eager to help you find it.

Back at the table, Lily narrows her eyes at John, clearly sizing him up. Then, dead serious, she delivers:

“If you hurt my mom, you die. Understood?”

John blinks, caught off guard for a second, but then a slow smile tugs at his lips. He knew exactly where she got that intensity from.

“Understood.”

“Good,” Lily says, her expression finally softening. “You make great spagbol so I'd hate to have to kill you.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

It’s been a few months since you and John started dating — the kind of comfortable, lived-in months where you had keys to each other's places, regularly took the kids out together, and fell asleep on the couch on each other. 

Unlocking the door, John and Tommy step inside, and they’re immediately hit with the scent of burnt toast, a low hum of music, and the unmistakable energy of mild chaos. They were here to pick you and Lily up to carpool to the Saturday morning game, but it looked like they’d walked into a warzone, and at least it smelled like pancakes.

“Morning!” Tommy calls out as he looks around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. 

“Oh hi, guys,” you pant out from somewhere in the kitchen, out of breath and flustered. He doesn’t need to be able to see you to know you’re going through it.

Lily’s sitting at the dining room table, calmly sipping orange juice like she’s been through this before. Tommy runs over and sits beside Lily, swiping a pancake off her plate.

“Mom’s having a meltdown,” she says, totally unbothered. “It’s pretty intense. She yelled at the coffee machine.”

John raises an eyebrow and walks to the kitchen, and there you are, wearing one sock and a hoodie that you actually stole from John, batter on your cheek, surrounded by open containers and the remnants of pancake making.

“It’s so good to see you,” You cry as you practically jump into his arms. You let go of him so you can continue your spiral when he stops you. 

“Honey, you’re running around like a headless chicken. Let me help,” John offers.

You hesitate, then sigh and reach into the mess on the counter and pull out a hairbrush. “Can you finish braiding Lil’s hair for me? She’s lost her lucky cleats, and I need to find them before we leave.”

“On it.”

He kisses your forehead, warm and steady, before heading into the kitchen.

Lily watches him approach with guarded suspicion. “Please don’t mess this up.”

John grins. “Don’t worry, I’m a professional.”

He ruffles her hair on purpose, just to rile her up, and she bats his hand away with a huff and a laugh. 

Meanwhile, you’re darting around the house in full-on panic mom mode — lifting couch cushions, checking under the bed, even inside the fridge for some reason (you never know), until finally, you spot the missing shoes. Inside her toy chest, naturally, buried under a plastic tiara and two mismatched Barbie legs.

You walk back into the dining room to the sound of laughter, Tommy’s head thrown back as John tells some ridiculous story, funny voices and all. Lily’s giggling along too as he finishes tying off the braid with surprising skill.

You lean against the doorframe, heart swelling. It’s loud, it’s messy, but it’s yours. And in that moment, it hits you: this is what happy looks like.

“Found it,” you say, holding the shoes up triumphantly.

John looks up, grinning. “See? I told you everything would come together.”

You smile at him. This is perfect; he’s perfect.

“Are we ready to go?” you call out, grabbing your bag and keys.

They respond in a chorus of “Yeah!” and “Almost!” as shoes squeak across the floor.

Clambering into the car like a small tornado, Tommy buckles in and grins over at Lily. “Losing team’s parent buys ice cream,” he declares.

“Ohhh, bold move,” you say, raising your eyebrows in the rearview mirror.

“Looks like you’re buying ice cream,” John says smugly, sliding into the driver's seat, glancing at you like he already knows today’s outcome.

“In your dreams,” you shoot back, smirking as you start the engine.

This was the kind of happiness that sneaks up on you when you’re not paying attention—and all it took was yelling at a hot dad at a soccer game.

Masterlist

[theyluvlyss]

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 "𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬" 𝐟𝐢𝐜/𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞...

no offense, but it's the same five songs (a.k.a. same plots/reader types) over and over again. like guys - WHERE'S THE CREATIVITY ?! THE FANTASY ?! THE IMAGINATION ?!

like hellooo, there's literally vampires, magic/hoodoo, and a million themes both hidden and not-so-hidden to work with. not to say i'm not loving what i'm seeing right now, don't get it twisted - I am, and y'all are good,,, but I just think we can do more and better😌🙏🏽.

hence why, I present...

a list of some wip's I got goin' for the future, along with my takes on why/how I came up with them😻 !!

but before I begin...

fair warning #1 - you're welcome to be inspired, but plz don't steal, i'm putting so much effort into these, my notes app hasn't been closed not once😭🙏🏽.

fair warning #2 - ikik, most of these are remmick, plz don't come for me✋🏽🥲✋🏽. I was trying to get them all out of my head before I forgot them, I love working with vampire characters, and finally, yes ofc I will be conjuring up some more for bo chow, plenty for stack and smoke, and some for sammie :). I am a multifandom account, after all, I be working on helllllaaaa other things and trying not to forget them all, so cut some slack <3.

fair warning #3 - I mentioned this in my last post, but all of my readers are black/black-coded. obnoxiously so. because, and stay mad about it, but this is for the niggas, strictly for the niggas, like I don't give a FUCK, okay? y'all can request whatever y'all want (within reason, because if I see something weird in my inbox, you're blockt), but when it comes down to prompts like these - where they're made up by me, original thoughts, not asked for, this is my blog and I can post what I want type shit - it always gave black!reader, like it's the norm over here, I shouldn't even have to say it lol.

anyways, onto my wip's /ᐠ^˕^マ !!...

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okayokayokay, I know what I said earlier - "iT's tHe sAmE fIvE sOnGs🙉!!" - but listen... I have yet to see a vamp!reader fic where the reader being turned doesn't happen at the end, and it's vague, and doesn't explore that narrative further.

also, it's always intentional, which I get, yk, but I wanna switch it up, give y'all a taste of it being a complete accident and then further delve into the feelings, effects, experience of reader being turned. ofc, with remmick being there for assistance and emotional support in a rather "morbid-amused-lowkey unwanted by the reader, but they don't got much of a choice rn" sorta way lmfao.

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shoutout to the niggas workin' with brail rn, who's personal documents say "legally blind", who's prescription glasses are THICKKK asf...

I see you😌✊🏽.

was that outta pocket?

my fault, anyways...

my thought process behind this was very adhd, so before you attack me, hear me out lol.

vampires are so cool because one of their abilities is having their senses heightened to an almost unnatural degree - I want a reader who has that same ability, but I don't want them to be a vampire, just super skilled with their senses - how would a reader who's not a vampire have heightened senses? idk,,, what type of humans have heightened senses? - ...blind ppl (💀) have heightened senses cuz they can't see, so they have to rely on the other five to get by (because I believe in sixth senses lol)... crazy connetion, but it's true💀 - LOL imagine remmick and reader going sense for sense fr tho.

mr. I-live-for-the-hunt meets ms. i'm-not-the-one.

shit becomes a "don't breathe" remake rq (without the freaky-deaky stuff towards the end, unless y'all are into that, idk💀✋🏽-).

idk, I see a vibe here, it's getting written fs.

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

I think it'd just be really funny to write about bo putting up with this silly, dramatic, type of reader. maybe a charlotte "lottie" la bouff type. spoiled but not rotten, definitely a character fr, and he entertains it because he loves it (won't admit it) and reader (admits and shows it).

reader is all pretty and pink and expressive and all her own, and honestly ?? she doesn't really have to go to visit his shop every single day, but she does because this little girl type crush just won't settle (won't admit it, but definitely shows it).

plus, HELLO, black wealth and excellence, idc if it's not fully accurate for the time, it's called fanfiction for a reason. get with it or get lost, let the girlies be drowned in privilege and in bo chow's love, attention, and care😻✨️🩷.

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

vampires exist in this world.

you really think i'm not gonna entertain the possibility of other mythical creatures existing as well?

BOOOO LAME‼️

furthermore,,, you really think i'm not bold enough to apply that possibility to some sinners fanfic? did I not JUST talk about creativity??

oh, you not fuckin' with it???

BOOOOO LAAAAMMMEEE TOMATO TOMATO, I'M THROWING TOMATOES‼️🍊‼️🍊‼️.

anyways, I have nothing to explain this/myself more with other than this little sliver of dialogue, for fear of spoiling the fic idea I have in mind/am working on...

. . .

"Oh, honey..." You trailed, barely strangling back a laugh bubbling deep from within your chest, your voice lined with a sense of pity.

Knowingness.

Hardly any question when you asked, "...D'you really think you were the only monster lurkin' through these woods...?"

. . .

THAT'S IT, that's enough, that's all you're getting, teehee🤭🫵🏽.

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

i'm a slut for whimsy (and size kinks), what can I say🤷🏽‍♀️?

also, I think I should HEAVILY lean into the "mischievous" aspects of how pixies/fairies are said to be - LOL just some lil' sparkly-winged, elf-eared, three-apples-tall ass creature/reader wreaking havoc on the kkk and others who do wrong, dirty, and evil, reader doing her best to uplift those who don't have her wings, who can't just fly away from the struggles happening all around, reader providing some fun and magic into little boy's and girl's lives, and-

oh, what's this?

reader spotting remmick absolutely devouring some poor soul who crossed his path and, well, they can't help but be interested and curious. maybe even mess with him a little bit.

cue remmick having to put up with reader's mystical magical nonsense, hating every second, but heaven forbid if something happens to the reader😌🥴✋🏽...

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(my picture limit ruined my aesthetic, y'all😔���)

remmick x jaded!reader

lmfao ik that sounds wild, but lemme cook✋🏽🥴✋🏽...

reader who - doesn't not care - but it takes a lot to actually phase them/gain a physical reaction. and I mean a LOT.

also, like, they're a freak!! god forbid reader sees something they like, like🙀🙄... (throw back another shot after every like).

idk how i'm gonna pull this off, but I just think it'd be amusingly jarring for remmick to come across a reader who has no fears about his ass being a vampire, nor gives any fucks about his threats on turning them. they've seen and been under much worse circumstances...

"ain't no need for that, the last thing I wanna do is be stuck on this earth for another day😒✋🏽..."

"...I...wha-...y-"

"-if you play nice, though, i'll clean ya' up. you gettin' blood all over my laundry and I don't have time to redo the load."

cue unlikely friendship😻?

remmick is the semi-unruly puppy, and reader is the reluctant owner type beat, because you already know he's coming back, no way he's not😹.

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remmick x fiftiesera!reader

i'm feeling nice, so i'll go ahead and leak the title i'm gonna use😌...

. . .

" 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧' 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐡 "

. . .

to sum up what i've got in the oven...

religious themes/god complex/kink(?) - vampire turning ofc😌 - smut (have I mentioned that some of these prompts do include smut?? well, they do lmao) - do you have issues with your parents? reallllyy don't like them?? this fic will potentially heal some of that for you idk lol - the second out of two of my readers who are gonna be a little... naive... but it's fine, most of my readers so far have been pretty, "i'm not with that bullshit" types. we need ✨️balance✨️.

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remmick x heavyflow!reader

I won't lie, I saw a tumblr post on here that fully inspired what I have in mind...

so thanks to them, everybody thank this user lol. all I plan on doing is fleshing out this prompt into a full blown imagine, like deadass.

remmick at your door every time he can smell the start of your cycle...

yes bruh, I used my last pic for a meme, god forbid I put humor over visual pleasure, like🙄✋🏽...

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remmick x 2025era!/modern!reader

no idea what i'm gonna do with this, ngl, I just figured that if i'ma do a reader from the 50's, y'all would start screaming at me to do a modern reader, so🥴💀.

i'll take ideas/requests, tho :D !!

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that's a wrap (for now) !!

again, i'm very aware (and not proud) of the fact it's mostly remmick, but like I said, there's plans for sammie, smoke, stack, and bo, so don't get on my case, I just need time to keep brainstorming before I explode lmfao💀😭.

anyways, stay tuned y'all, because these fics are all currently in the works and I will be honest, the more ppl confirm they're rocking with these prompts and looking forward to them, the more likely/confident i'll be with actually getting them done and done well :).

byeeee, i'll be back in another millenia😻‼️✨️.

[fandomobsessedcharacters]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚𝑩𝒐𝒃 + 𝑩𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑫𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝑰𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

pairing: bob reynolds x f!reader

a/n: Hi! This is my first Bob headcannon and what he would be like on a book date. I swear he’s giving book boyfriend vibes so I thought I would give it a shot!! If you have any feedback please feel free to voice it! Aghhhhhh! I literally love him so much! Anyways, enjoy! If you'd like to see more let me know!

Being a part of the new avengers meant three things: work, home, repeat. Unfortunately this also meant stressful missions and vicious bruises that needed tending to. All a part of the job, right? Trust me, all that stress gets to you one way or another.

Thankfully, you had an escape—losing yourself in the pages of a good book. Every couple of days you dive into a new story, each page pulling you into whatever adventure awaited. And once you were done devouring said book, you’d go to your favorite bookshop secluded away from the city to find more. You truly enjoyed reading, it was more than just a hobby, it was your peace.

Still, someone else had picked up on the way your eyes lit up.

Bob had always been observant. So when he saw you curled up on the couch in the living room of the new Avengers Tower, your favorite blanket draped over you, a book in your hands, he just watched you for a moment. Not in a weird “Edward Cullen" kind of way, but with quiet admiration, like you were the most peaceful thing he'd seen all day. Not to mention, the guy was absolutely smitten.

He found himself memorizing the way your eyes moved across the page, how your lips curled up slightly whenever you read something funny. You weren’t doing anything extraordinary, just existing, and yet, to him, it was everything. His crush wasn’t loud or dramatic; it was quiet, steady, and growing stronger with every shared glance and soft laugh you didn’t even know you let out. 

There was a comfort in your friendship, the kind that didn’t need grand gestures or constant conversation. You’d bring him tea without asking how he liked it because you already knew. He’d make sure your favorite mug was always clean. You’d swap stories, share late-night takeout, and sit in silence without it ever feeling awkward. It wasn’t flashy, but it was real. Steady. The kind of friendship that made the world feel a little less heavy.

You also noticed Bob’s eyes on you—quiet, thoughtful, like he was trying to memorize the moment. At first, you brushed it off, thinking maybe you had something on your face or your hair was sticking up. But it kept happening. Not in a way that made you uncomfortable, never that. It was… careful. Like he was seeing something in you that even you didn’t always see in yourself. And maybe, just maybe, you started to look back. Not always, and never too long. But enough. Enough to catch the softness in his gaze, to feel your heartbeat flutter just a little faster when he smiled your way with those doe eyes. You didn’t say anything about it, didn’t want to risk the comfort of what you already had. But in those quiet, lingering glances, there was something unspoken. Something that made you hope he was feeling the same pull you were. 

So one day, you took your chance and invited him on a little outing.

"Hey, Bob. Are you, um… busy right now? I was wondering if, well, if you wanted to come with me to the bookstore. It’s kind of my favorite spot, and I thought… maybe you’d like it too."

Bob blinked, caught off guard. “The bookstore? With you?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “Uh, yeah, yeah, I’d love to. I mean, if you’re sure. That sounds… nice.” He smiled, a little sheepish but warm, like you’d just made his whole day.

So with a quick change into some shorts and your favorite sweatshirt, you stepped out, only to find Bob waiting in the hallway, also in a sweatshirt, hands stuffed in the pockets of his joggers. He gave a shy little laugh when he saw you. “Guess we’re on the same wavelength,” he said, eyes meeting yours for a moment before darting away again, a little flustered.

The soft chime of the bell above the door greeted you both as you stepped into the shop. The air smelled like old paper and cinnamon from the tiny café in the back. Shelves towered around you like quiet sentinels, each one packed with stories waiting to be found. You take Bob to your favorite bookstore in New York, a cozy hideaway tucked into a quiet corner in the city. 

Bob stood close behind you, his fingers brushing the edge of a display table as he looked around, wide-eyed. “Whoa,” he murmured. “This place is… kind of magic.”

You turned to smile at him. “I knew you’d like it.”

His eyes flicked back to yours, softer now. “I like it even more with you here.”

I feel like Bob is into poetry and mystery novels so that’s interesting!

You wandered through the store together, your fingers gently laced with Bob’s as you led him through the aisles, his eyes wide with quiet wonder. Bob lingered in the poetry section, fingers tracing the spines like they were made of glass. You watched as he pulled out a slim volume of Sylvia Plath and turned the pages slowly, reverently. “Her words feel like someone whispering in the dark,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

You tilted your head. “Do you read poetry often?”

He glanced at you, a bit bashful. “Sometimes. When I can’t sleep, mostly. It helps me feel… less alone, I guess.”

You nodded, understanding more than you could say. “That makes sense.”

Later, while you browsed the mystery section, he picked up a battered Agatha Christie and grinned. “I used to read these with my mom. She always figured out the twist before I did.”

“That’s so cute,” you said, laughing softly.

He smiled back, more confident now. “You’re cute.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, like a bookmark slipped between chapters.

You and Bob spent hours tucked between the shelves, flipping through pages of books that caught your eye and sharing quiet laughs over quirky titles. At one point, you grabbed a coffee from the little café tucked in the corner, while Bob opted for tea—he claimed coffee made him too jittery, and you couldn't help but smile at how endearing that was. His tousled brown hair fell effortlessly over his eyes as he read. 

You and Bob left the bookstore, books in hand. You’d both made your usual ritual of recommending a book to each other, but this time, there was something different. You couldn’t resist picking up one of his suggestions, the cover catching your eye as you imagined diving into it. He, too, grabbed a book you’d been raving about for weeks, a shared smile passing between you as you realized just how well your tastes aligned. It wasn’t just about the books—it was about the connection, the quiet understanding between two people who knew how to make each other’s reading lists a little richer.

you guys even do a little book club and so you guys made it a cozy tradition. Every week, you had books in your hands, ready to dive into whatever genre was calling to you. Mystery, thriller, and even the occasional fantasy novel became the backdrop for your endless discussions. You’d both get lost in the twists and turns of a gripping crime novel, eagerly dissecting each clue, while Bob would always try to outguess you on the killer’s identity. When fantasy made its way onto the list, you’d get caught up in world-building debates, arguing over the best magic system or the most compelling hero’s journey.

What started as just sharing recommendations turned into a full-on reading ritual, a shared love of stories that brought you closer each time. And when the conversation would inevitably go off-topic, turning into laughter and playful teasing.

Your little book club nights with Bob had become sacred, equal parts literary critique and cozy hangout. But the moment you started swooning over a brooding assassin from the fantasy novel you were reading, Bob raised an eyebrow and shot you a look over the rim of his mug.

“Oh, he again,” Bob said with exaggerated annoyance. “Yeah, because nothing says dream guy like emotionally unavailable and probably hasn’t showered in three chapters.”

You giggled, unapologetic. “He’s complex, Bob. And tortured.”

“He’s fictional, Y/N. Meanwhile, I’m real, emotionally stable, and smell like cedarwood and good decisions.”

He playfully snatched the book out of your hand and flipped through the pages dramatically. “Let me guess, he saves the kingdom, but can’t save himself?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You’re just jealous.”

Bob gave you a mock gasp. “Jealous? Of a moody elf-boy with trust issues? Please. I have better hair and a Costco membership.”

Still, later that night, you caught him secretly flipping through the book, mumbling something about “seeing what the hype is about.” You didn’t say a word, just smiled, knowing Bob would always be your favorite chapter.

[lizardlicks]

so here's the thing

the type of cishet guy that you don't want in a queer space is the type of cishet guy that would not voluntarily be caught in a queer space anyway. A dude who heard there was gonna be a meet up, a drag show, a support group, etc and thought "yeah, that sounds like I place I wanna be" is already gonna be some flavor of queer or else is going there on invitation of queer friends he wants to hang with/support. And maybe that dude doesn't get all the terminology right, or maybe he's more educated on one topic than another and still needs to learn, but he's got the spirit, and the right heart.

And sure there might be a one off where straighty mcgee, the most dudeliest broski to piss beer and fart Jesus accidentally ends up at your big gay jamboree, but what's gonna happen is either he's gonna get the fuck outta dodge rather than risk being seen by any of his buddies in the company of the trannies and faggots, or he's gonna have some realizations about herself and go home to go several days or months of reddit and wiki driving before working up the courage to show up at the next meet intentionally.

This supposed cishet man that is going to infiltrate your queer groups and Make Everyone Unsafe by mere vibes is a myth. It's just your own personal discomfort with existing near someone your brain reads as a man and working backwards to justify that discomfort with excuses.

Get over yourself.

I really don't fuck with the idea of "cishet men being there is a sign of a healthy queer community" and the way it gets touted as a litmus test like "oh but cishet men being there is a good sign for all the closeted trans women." Like okay if you're trying to convince a bunch of trans women that your queer community is safe for them I really don't think you should, even implicitly, be saying "oh don't worry, our queer community is totally inclusive of trans women! That's why we've got cishet men here! Y'all are pretty much the same, right?"

Like, a closeted trans woman is probably going to feel more comfortable in a queer community if she sees a bunch of other trans women who are safe and comfortable, innit?

[moongirlrhea]

an azriel and his best friend drabble - period comfort

this is a drabble in the azriel and his best friend universe, but it can be read as a standalone!!! in the timeline this happens at some point before the events of the series :)

series masterlist

word count: 1.8k

azriel x reader drabble

warnings: descriptions of period pain

a/n: sooo backstory: i had a really bad period last week and it brought me back to when i used to have really bad periods in high school. like passing out and all that so: this fic is the result of that! as always feedback is appreciated, let me know what you think!!!!

She groaned into her pillow as pain pierced through her stomach. She curled tighter into a ball as she fought the tears brimming in her eyes.

She couldn’t take this, she really couldn’t. She hadn’t even known her cycle was coming, with how unregular it was, but this morning she woke to red-stained sheets and a sharp pain shooting through her stomach. And by the time she managed to get the bed, and herself, cleaned up, she was utterly exhausted.

Azriel was at training, so he wasn’t there to help her, which he usually insisted on doing. After first coming to Velaris it was utterly strange for her to have anyone, especially a male help her with her cycle, considering how her entire life she’d been taught it was something to hide, to be …ashamed of. That it was a liability that should be hidden from a lady’s husband, and well she didn’t know why exactly she correlated that with Azriel, but- Anyway. It was standard for her to manage the pain on her own her entire life, although that usually consisted entirely of whining and whimpering in bed alone.

After getting close to Azriel everything changed, and he insisted on taking care of her, which at first was mainly just her trying not to burrow herself into the ground from embarrassment. After a while, however, after first experiencing Azriel’s gentle care and the love he conveyed in it, that quiet compassion and his lack of judgement, she started to let him help her. Although she had to admit, that the mortification she was thought to feel at showing her pain to a male of all people so undeniably, never really went away. Maybe it never would, but Azriel didn’t seem to mind reminding her how there was nothing wrong with being taken care of.

She squirmed again, a big part of her wishing he was here, unable to find a position that would ease the pain even the slightest bit. Sweat beaded at her brow and she whimpered as she lowered herself from her bed, and onto the floor.

It was cool against her skin, making her feel at least a bit less faint. Right? That’s what she thought would happen, but now her breathing shallowed and darkness swam in the edges of her vision.

Gods, the pain- Whimpering, she leaned her head back against the edge of the mattress and suddenly everything around her was blurring and-

Well, that definitely didn’t work in making her feel less faint.

-

Someone was shaking her shoulders.

“Sweetheart-” a familiar voice urged somewhere above her “Wake up, please, come on”

She groaned as she felt pain stab through her again. She was slowly coming about and slowly the realization that she knew that voice washed over her. Gods, what had happened?

“Az?”

“Thank the Mother,” the male crouched above her exhaled in relief “Can you open your eyes for me, love?” he asked in such a soft voice, that she couldn’t not try to.

She cracked her eyes open and looked at Azriel through squinted lids, vision still swimming. But he was already grabbing her forearms and helping her sit up. His touch was so, so gentle as he fussed over her that it had tears brimming in her eyes all over again. Suddenly her best friend’s eyes widened and snapped to hers.

“You’re bleeding. Did you hit your head? What happened, where are you hurt?” The questions were coming at her one after the other, though it was obvious by the pinch of his expression and the furrow of his brow that Azriel was trying extremely hard not to sound too scared. The unconcealable worry in his eyes gave him away.

Had she passed out from the pain? The answer was obvious in her mind and her stomach sank a bit as a pang of embarrassment consumed her. She tried to keep her eyes glued to Azriel as she stayed quiet for longer than needed. Oh, cauldron.

“It's my cycle, Az” she sighed out finally, eyes glancing around the room. Her vision was suddenly drowned in the golden, intense sunlight streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Was it midday already? How long had she been out?

“Why didn’t you call for me?” Azriel coaxed her head in his direction by placing a gentle hand on the side of her face. His thumb was stroking gently along her cheekbone as his shadows, who seemed to have noticed her earlier discomfort, shot out to close the curtains, keeping most of the overwhelming light from the room.

“You were at training, I didn’t want to…-” her voice trailed off.

“You should have called for me, you know one of my shadows is always somewhere close” his voice was almost scolding as he studied her with such deep concern in his golden-brown eyes, it almost took her breath away.

“I’m sorry”

“You know that’s not what this is about,” he told her in a soft voice “You always call for me when you’re in pain, alright?”

She narrowed her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder in exhaustion before replying. “And that goes the same for you, right?”

A beat of silence ensued before Azriel chuckled, his hand coming to rest on the nape of her neck, fingers brushing through her hair. “It does”

“Alright, then”

Before any of them could say something more, a wave of pain so intense hit her, that she doubled over, gasping.

“Fuck, sweetheart, where do you have your pain tonics? How long ago have you taken one?”

“I haven’t- Ah-,” she gasped as she tried to get the words out “I haven’t taken any” she managed to rasp out, finally.

“What do you mean you haven’t taken any?” she could practically feel the way he froze in front of her, the shadows that had been twirling around her frame going in tow with their master.

“They don’t help anyway” she mumbled through a whimper.

“They don’t help? Love- You passed out on the floor from the pain, for Mother’s sake you can’t-” Azriel said seriously somewhere above her “You need to take care of yourself, we’ve talked about this” he added a bit sternly.

Was he mad at her? As she whimpered from the pain again, an ugly, albeit well known feeling swam through her body. But he wouldn’t think that of her, right? “I’m- I’m sorry” she tried wetly, a bit helplessly, maybe.

He exhaled shakily somewhere next to her “No- No don’t be sorry,” she sniffled at that “Hey, you’re alright. I’m right here. I didn’t mean to- I’m not mad at you, alright?” he said as he gathered her shaking form into his arms. She was a mess, breathing heavily, almost sobbing from the pain.

“It hurts, Az” she felt a stream of salt rivulet down the side of her face.

“I know, I know” he mumbled as he placed her gently on the bed “I just need to get you a tonic, okay sweetheart?”

“No, don’t leave-”

“I know, but I’ll just be a second,” his voice was strained and unsure about leaving her out of his sight in this state. Even for just a moment, but the sight alone of her state cemented the decision for him. She needed medicine. “I’ll be right back”

She groaned as she curled into a ball, breathing heavily through her sobs. There was a muffled conversation in the hallway somewhere but she couldn’t focus at all. Her door closed and opened and a weight appeared on the bed next to her.

Someone was whispering something to her, stroking her back and head gently. But the world around her wasn’t making sense at that moment and it was only after a while that she realized who it was, based solely on the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar that hit her. But the pain was all consuming and in her state of torment she couldn’t even make out his words. A vague, unspecified amount of time passed as she lay there and at some point Azriel must have been gone again, and she heard voices outside her room. And then he was back, coaxing her to turn on her back and sit up.

She squirmed in his arms, eyes closed and face pinched as he tried to adjust her. “Just one second, sweetheart, here,” he said softly as he coaxed a bitter liquid past her lips “There you go, you’ll be better soon”

“I can’t- I can’t do this” she whimpered.

“It’ll be over soon, angel, I promise” there was urgency in his voice, as though he was trying to convince her on something but she couldn’t focus and then-. She was turning over again, intuitively pressing herself into his side. Then there was something hot being pressed against her stomach, and a pair of arms circling around her. Azriel was whispering something to her, trying to comfort her but the words were incomprehensible in her state. Suddenly everything was blurring.

-

Azriel pressed a shaky his on his best friend’s forehead as he held her trembling form in his eyes. It was torture to have to see her like this and he was already berating himself for not keeping up when her cycle would come.

Poor girl.

Thankfully, he bumped into Mor right after going to get a tonic for her, and she happened to have an abundance of the stronger dose that she got from Madja sometime earlier. And so, he could already feel his girl’s form slumping against him, succumbing to sleep.

The plan for the next week was laying itself out in his mind as he held her. He had already sent his shadows to get her favorite foods and snacks from the Rainbow, and Mor promised to ask Madja for more tonics today. So that was covered. The House would supply them with hot water bottles, so he checked that from his list. He would have to check if she was in need of more linens.

There was one thing left to worry about, however. The convincing that it will take him to get her to actually stay in bed, because he was already sure she’d be trying to get up and to work the second she woke up. But it was alright for Azriel to ease his best friend’s mind and make sure she was well taken care of.

That’s what he was there for, and it was a job he’d cherish. Until the end of his days.

taglist: @greenmandm @thoughtfulcoffeeflower @dark-night-sky-99 @ly--canthrope @azrielssgirl @topaz125 @azrielsmate3 @i-am-infinite @stressed-reader @blonde-bansheee @k-homosapien @azysmate @brekkershadowsinger to join let me know under this post

[rainverry]

pretty boy.

PAIRING  ☆  nakamoto yuta x afab!reader

GENRES  ☆  smut, fluff, angst, a bit of crack?, enemies to lovers, fake dating, college au

WARNINGS  ☆  18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. profanity, substances (alcohol consumption, one mention of weed), light smut (oral [f receiving], praise kink), use of nicknames (baby, babe, princess, my girl, gorgeous), mentions of throwing up, one mention of blood, the characters are in their mid 20s in this fic, reader wears glasses and has a pet cat, yuta’s hair is red in this because that’s his best hair colour i don’t make the rules

SUMMARY  ☆  college life is full of uncertainties, but there is one thing you know for sure: nakamoto yuta hates your guts, and the feeling is mutual. so when he goes to you and asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend, you start to realise that maybe you were wrong about him too.

WORD COUNT  ☆  24.2k (im so sorry)

PLAYLIST  ☆  click!

AUTHOR'S NOTE  ☆  heya lovelies !! this is my first ever full-length one shot, as well as my first time ever sharing my smut with anyone so i’m kinda nervous lol if u think u’ve read any other of my full-length one shots before, no u haven’t <3 i also got carried away because i truly did not expect it to be this long 😭 big thanks to my friends lou for the feedback and carol for beta reading and encouraging me to continue writing when i kept having second thoughts 🥺 enjoy reading and feedback is always welcome !!

THE END OF YOUR MID-TERM BREAK always meant going to the nearest coffee shop with your two best friends, with the intention of catching up on all the things that happened on your short-lived holiday. It also functioned as the last time for you to have some fun before you knuckle down and keep your focus on studying for the final exams, merely six weeks away from now.

“Anyway, that’s how we managed to pull off the biggest cookie heist in the Im household,” Nayeon finishes, leaning down to take a sip of her chai latte.

“Must be fun, having younger cousins,” Jennie sighs in envy. She cradles her chin in one hand, toying with the ends of her hair with the other. “Meanwhile, all my cousins have grown up to be obnoxious jerks!”

You raise your eyebrows. “But not Taeyong, right?”

Jennie crinkles her nose in disdain. “The cousins on my mom’s side like to pretend I don’t exist. It’s a low bar, but Taeyong is the only nice one,” she throws her hair over her shoulder. “Speaking of, he should be here soon. You don’t mind him interrupting our girls’ day out, would you?”

You don’t mind at all. Despite your friend’s pretend indifference towards him, Lee Taeyong was the resident sweetheart, known and liked by everyone on campus. The music production major is the captain of the dance club, frequently volunteers to tutor his peers and on top of that, always makes sure to bring treats and small toys for your cat whenever he drops by your place.

What you did mind, however, is if he happens to bring along a friend of his with him. Although Taeyong could integrate himself into virtually all of the social circles around campus, there is one group he sticks with more than the others – the group filled with fuckboys, notorious for flirting with anyone who was available and throwing wild parties. How the sweet Taeyong manages to get along with people so different from him is beyond you, but you figure men will always be men.

As if sensing your thoughts, Nayeon remarks, “I don’t think he’ll be with anyone today. I’m sure they’re too busy unpacking.”

You push your glasses up your nose and shrug, only hoping that was true. Even though not all the men in Taeyong’s friend group are bad apples, you’ve had more than enough awkward encounters with them to last you a lifetime. Plus, there is also one person in that group that you dislike more than the others, and you know Taeyong wouldn’t consider bringing that person within a ten feet radius of you.

The doorbell of the cafe rings, followed by two sets of footsteps and familiar laughter. You tense.

Today is not your lucky day.

You look up to see Taeyong heading towards your table. And behind him, wearing his signature smirk, is the bane of your existence – Nakamoto Yuta.

Many people have asked you why you hate Nakamoto Yuta, and your answer has always been: where do you even begin? His annoyingly vibrant red hair, the fact that he coined the nickname “Glasses” for you because of your poor eyesight, the way he’s able to get along with everyone except you and the fact that he’s been your rival for the top spot of the class ever since you could remember were only a few reasons the mere sight of him can make your blood boil.

Before you can even process your thoughts, Nayeon hisses, “Behave.”

You resist the urge to let out a groan at her command, and when you meet Taeyong’s eyes he directs a sheepish smile at you. You glare at him and look down at your phone, deciding to scroll through whatever that would make you feel less irritated at that moment.

“Hey, guys,” Taeyong greets when he reaches your table. “Enjoyed your break?”

You mumble out, “Hi, Taeyong.”

Taeyong nods at you and Jennie, and begins to listen to Nayeon as she animatedly recounts the story of how she and her younger cousins managed to steal the five batches of chocolate chip cookies her aunts had baked. You also want to listen to her story even though you had just heard about it three minutes ago, but someone slides into the seat across from yours. Despite yourself, the action captures your attention.

“Just going to ignore me, Glasses?” Yuta grins at you, completely disregarding your friends and the fact that this was supposed to be your private time with them. “Or have you already forgotten about me after such a long time?”

“Yeah, I was too busy having fun to think about things that don’t matter,” you snap back. “Anyway, two weeks was long for you? Did your friends not want to hang out with you or something?”

“Here we go,” Jennie mumbles under her breath. You pretend not to notice.

Yuta slaps a hand over his heart. “Ouch, right in the feels,” he pouts. “My break was fine, thank you. Kinda missed seeing your annoying butt around, though.”

“I’m flattered, but the feeling is not mutual,” you retort, and before you can say more, Jennie clears her throat.

“Anyway, that’s the end of the story!” Jennie says abruptly, even though you’re sure from Nayeon’s expression that she had more to tell. Subtle. From Yuta’s face, you can tell he thinks the same thing. 

The both of you normally try to avoid seeing each other as much as possible, knowing it would only lead to endless arguments, but right now you’re blaming Taeyong for even daring to bring Yuta into your presence when he knew you were going to be here.

Jennie claps her hands and looks up at her cousin. “Yongie, you wanted to give me something, right?” 

“Oh yes,” he holds up the bag that he’s carrying and sets it on the table, a look of amusement on his face. “A little present from my mom – to remind you that you should have come to visit her during the break, and she’s mad that you didn’t.”

“Oh, it’s because–” Jennie starts, but Taeyong is quick to cut her off.

“Oh, and I’m mad too.”

The two start bickering in their mother tongue, and you and Nayeon share a smile at their antics. Yuta is still sitting across from you, but you’re trying your best to ignore the fact that, for whatever reason, he’s looking at you. You look down at your phone again, desperately wanting for the guys to be gone already so you can finally get back to your precious dishing time with your best friends.

“Take a picture, Nakamoto. It’ll last longer,” you comment sarcastically, unable to handle Yuta’s gaze on you any longer.

He seems undeterred by your sudden jab at him. “It’s cute that you’re trying so hard to ignore me, Glasses,” he sighs. “I’d like to see you ignore me when I beat you for valedictorian next year.”

“Okay, enough,” Taeyong cuts in, sparing his friend a warning glance when he sees the look on your face. “Jennie, you’re going to visit me and my parents during the next break and that’s a promise, okay?”

“For ahjumma and ahjussi, maybe, not you,” Jennie teases, then her face softens. “But thank you for the food.”

Taeyong nods, then pats Yuta on the shoulder. “Anyway, we should get going or we’re going to be late.”

Yuta hums in agreement and is about to get up when Nayeon clicks her tongue. “Wait, pretty boy, you still owe me ten bucks.”

Pretty boy is the nickname Nayeon coined for Yuta in high school – a moniker that you would agree suits him to some degree.

(Not that you would ever admit it in a million years.) 

Yuta groans, head falling back in annoyance. “I haven’t forgotten. Hold up, I think I have some cash on me.” He reaches into his jacket pocket when a handful of paper scraps fall out and scatter all over his lap. With a mutter of annoyance, he reaches down to pick them up, and you’re expecting him to put them back inside his pocket when he suddenly crumples them up in his hands. 

You raise your eyebrow in surprise. “Hoarding trash in your pocket, huh? Is finding a trash can too difficult for you?”

Yuta glares for a split second before the maddening smirk is back on his face. “Thanks for your concern, Glasses. It’s actually all the phone numbers I got working at the bar last night. Not that I need them, I already have enough women wanting me.” 

You roll your eyes as the others laugh and let out dog whistles at his incredibly distasteful comment. Only Yuta could make your friends think such a repulsive statement is hilarious.

“No shortage of girls chasing you everywhere, huh, pretty boy?” Nayeon asks playfully.

“None, unfortunately,” Yuta shakes his head, producing a ten dollar note from his wallet and handing it to Nayeon. Seeing Taeyong already heading for the door, he shoots them a smile. “Bye, girls.”

He turns and winks at you. “See you around, Glasses.”

You’re left glowering at Yuta’s backside, your scowl only fading when you hear the sound of the door closing behind them.

“God, I can’t stand him,” you murmur.

Jennie lets out a practised sigh. “Yeah, we know.”

During your first year of college, you accidentally found a secret corner in the campus library while searching for a textbook for your major. The corner was cosy and out of sight from the rest of the library, perfect for when you need some peace and quiet. Ever since, it’s been your place of solace.

It’s usually the place you go to to be completely alone, and this time you needed a few hours of reading by yourself. It’s been a week since your mid-term break ended, and after nights staying up studying, you suppose right now is a good time to have a short rest from cramming information into your brain, and just enjoy a romcom book instead.

You are one hour deep in your romance novel when you hear footsteps in the library getting louder. You figure it’s Nayeon, the only other person who you’ve told about the secret corner, coming to find you as she’s chided you many times on how you tend to lose track of time when you’re in here.

The footsteps end in front of you, but you don’t look up from your book. “I’m at a good part, Nayeon, give me a few minutes.”

“Are the characters making out or something?”

The unexpected voice makes you snap your book shut and when you push your glasses up your nose to see clearly, you could only stare up in shock. Nakamoto Yuta stands in front of you, an unusually shy smile on his face. At first you’re speechless – he is the last person you would want to see anywhere, let alone in what was supposed to be your safe haven from the rest of the world.

“What are you doing here?!” you hiss, and then you look back down at the novel in your hands. “Great, you made me lose my page, you idiot!”

Suddenly, Yuta’s voice is devoid of his usual humour. “Can we talk?”

“Can you go be annoying somewhere else?” you flip through the pages rapidly, barely noticing his serious tone. You smile in relief only when you find the page you’re looking for, and you prepare to resume reading. 

Yuta lets out an exasperated sigh at your attempt of scaring him off and kneels down to your level, and to your surprise, he takes your book, secures the page you're on with your bookmark and then puts it aside.

“Seriously, I need your help,” Yuta murmurs, his big brown eyes staring deeply into yours. His face is so close to you, his voice so gentle that for a moment, you’re unable to stop and think about the sheer absurdity of his words. 

“I–” you start, before shaking your head and letting out a snort. “You need my help? Couldn’t you have asked, I don’t know… anyone else?”

“You’re my last resort,” Yuta responds immediately, as if he’s already rehearsed what he’s going to say. You think he’s about to drop the serious act and start teasing you again, but his lips are still tucked into a thin line. “And believe me, you’re the only one who can help me.”

“I seriously doubt that,” you scoff, getting ready to leave. Your secret corner isn’t even safe anymore. The only place you can go back to would be your dorm room, a place you know would be empty of any fuckboys or sworn enemies who would only ruin your mood. You know your roommate Jisoo would probably have someone over for the night, but it’s a small price to pay to avoid seeing Yuta again.

Yuta watches silently as you gather your things. You think he’s given up on whatever he was going to ask you and let you leave when he speaks up again.

“I need you to fake date me.”

You stop in your tracks. 

“What?” you stutter out. “You’re kidding, right?”

You know he’s not kidding, not when he’s staring at you so intently – not when you had heard his voice as clear as day, and with no trace of irony in his words.

“Y/-”

You burst out laughing. You laugh and laugh until your sides hurt, all the while Yuta is still kneeling in front of you, and you’re clutching your stomach at the ridiculousness of it all. 

“You want me to fake date you? Seriously? That’s what you need my help for?” you manage to finally say after your laughter dies down, wiping tears of mirth off your cheeks. “Oh, Nakamoto. That’s funny. Like that’s ever going to happen. I mean, what would I even get out of it?”

You can see Yuta’s cheeks are lightly shaded pink after seeing your reaction to his statement, but he replies without a hitch, “You can show off your hot-ass boyfriend to everyone else.”

“Yuta!” you smack him with your novel, and he grunts at the impact. “I’m serious. How would that benefit you? More importantly, how the hell would that benefit me?”

“I don’t know!” Yuta grumbled, softly rubbing the spot on his arm where you had smacked him. He finally gets up from his kneeling position and starts pacing around. “Listen, so many girls have been–”

“Oh my God, I know, there’s no shortage of girls that want you–”

“Let me finish!” Yuta snaps, his hands balled in fists when he glares at you. His face and voice softens after a beat, and he takes a deep breath before continuing. “Girls have been messaging me left and right asking me to go out with them. And–” he runs a hand over his face. “–I’m tired of it, okay? I’m not interested. And they’re not getting the message. I thought that maybe, if I get someone to act as my girlfriend, they will back off for a bit.”

You scoff. “Then get an actual girlfriend, you dick! Why get a fake one?”

“Because like I said, I’m not interested,” Yuta repeats slowly. “I’m not looking for an actual relationship right now. And, like… I came to you because I know for a fact that you won’t want an actual relationship from me. I don’t know…” he sighs again, staying silent for a moment. “Just… think about it, okay?”

You stare at him silently, still in disbelief at the words he had just said. You’re almost convinced that you had fallen asleep while reading your book a while ago and this is just some strange hyperrealistic dream. Yuta honestly, genuinely believed that there was a chance that you would help him and go along with his crazy request. You don’t know how you feel about that. 

What you do know, though, is that you don’t want to be tangled up in Nakamoto Yuta’s business in any way.

After a long pause, you shake your head.

“I’ll give you my answer now, Yuta. Thanks, but no thanks.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder and stand up from your seat, romance novel in hand. You can’t resist the temptation of looking over your shoulder and commenting one last time.

“Rejection doesn’t feel so good now, does it?”

You relish at the sight of his red cheeks before leaving the library.

You had been studying in your room when Nayeon and Jisoo had burst through the door, begging for you to try on a few outfits they had put together. You agreed, thinking it was only going to be a brief try-on and then you’d shove the outfits back in your closet, but somehow they’d convince you to keep the clothes on and crash a nearby party with them. To top it all off, they had also asked you to ditch your glasses so you could finally use the coloured contacts that you very much disliked wearing.

That’s how you find yourself in the corner of some random stranger’s house, nursing a red solo cup in one hand. The dress your friends had put on you showed off your legs a lot more than you would have liked, so now you’re trying your best to keep yourself warm with the crappy booze they were serving.

As you survey the small crowd surrounding you, you’re hit with the realisation that you don’t really know anyone here. You know the point of your friends dragging you to this party was for you to mingle a little more with other people, but somehow you’re unable to think of any interesting opening lines to a conversation that could last longer than two minutes. You’d rather have a friend beside you, but Nayeon is chatting it up with someone from her major and you don’t want to interrupt them. Just a while ago you also caught a glimpse of Jisoo heading upstairs with a stranger you hadn’t seen before, and you definitely don’t want to disturb her fun time. 

You hadn’t even bothered telling your friends about Nakamoto Yuta’s offer he had given a few hours ago. That man was not worth wasting your breath for.

And yet, your thoughts kept drifting back to him.

Yuta actually had the balls to ask you, his sworn enemy, for help in becoming his fake girlfriend. Out of all the things! You still remember the stony expression he had on when the words I need you to fake date me had left his mouth, signifying that yes, he was being one hundred percent serious. You know he’s known for his unpredictable and somewhat wild streak, but to ask you to do such a bizarre thing…

You don't know what to think.

“Hey, cutie. Can I get you a drink?”

Your head snaps up to see a tall stranger smirking at you, his eyes red from him smoking what you can only assume is some offhand weed that you know are usually at these types of parties.

“I already have one, thanks,” you smile politely, raising your cup to show him. Now, you desperately wish there’s a friend by your side – you’re not in the mood to be hit on at the moment.

But the stranger doesn’t get the hint. He steps close enough to you that you can instantly smell the repulsive mixture of substances in his breath. “That shitty beer they’re serving? Don’t be stupid. I’ll get you a real drink,” he leans in, dropping his voice so he could whisper in your ear, “Unless there’s something else you want me to do for you?”

Your stomach churns at the implication of his words.

“Um, no, thank you, I… have a boyfriend,” is all you manage to say before slipping away from his presence.

You sprint outside of the house, trashing your cup in the process, relieved to be free from the smell of booze and flirty men who wouldn’t take no for an answer. You pull out your phone from your purse.

you: gonna bail, will u and jisoo be okay?

nayeon: yeah i didn’t drink anything so ill be driving us back

nayeon: u okay tho? 

you: just need to do sumn real quick. dont worry ill find my way home

As soon as you know your friends will be fine, you immediately call for an Uber. You have one destination in mind.

You're surprised how quick the ride to Yuta’s place is. Amazingly, you know what you’re going to say to him now. Maybe it’s the alcohol running through your veins that’s making you do such an illogical thing, really.

When you knock on the door, Johnny is the one who opens it. “Oh, hey.”

When you see his look of surprise, you’re now realising how crazy you must look. Johnny must have not recognised you at first, especially now that your usual glasses are gone and your eyes are a shade of grey. You do suppose you can’t be the first person to show up at the guys’ dorm at midnight in a little dress and heels, but the thought of you being compared to those other girls doesn’t really comfort you.

You make a feeble attempt at covering yourself up, giving him a bashful smile. “Um, hey Johnny. Is Yuta home?”

Johnny’s eyes widen even further, causing your embarrassment to grow tenfold. You can only imagine what Johnny could be thinking right now.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t think he’s asleep yet. Want me to get him?”

When you nod and Johnny’s gone, you rub your hands that you didn’t realise were sweaty against the back of your dress. You can already think of all the things he would say when he sees you. Hearing a nauseating Aww, did you get dressed up all for me, Glasses? from Yuta may as well happen. The insanity of what you’re about to do finally hits you, but there’s no turning back now.

“Y/N?” Yuta says, standing in front of you in nothing but a pair of sweats, with his red hair looking exceptionally vibrant in the night. He’s clearly too shocked to come up with his usual cocky opener, and for that you are grateful. “What are you doing here?”

You can’t see where Johnny went and you know he’s not the type of person to listen in to his friends’ private conversations, but you’re not willing to take the risk. “We need to talk,” you assert, brushing past Yuta and heading straight towards his bedroom. His jaw drops, and you’re equally surprised at how different you’re behaving. The alcohol really is making you act more brazen than usual.

“Well, come in, make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Yuta grumbles, his bewildered expression now changing into one of annoyance as he closes the bedroom door behind him. “What do you want? You here to reject me again?”

You lean against the wall and take in your surroundings, in awe of how immaculately his bedroom is decorated, with accents of space blue and striking reds all over. You spot an electric guitar in the corner. You didn’t know he played any instruments.

“I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“I’ll be your fake girlfriend, Yuta,” you tell him, and you see his eyebrows raise in amazement. “But I want you to know that I’m also doing it for my own gain.”

Yuta immediately scoffs, but there’s a hint of amusement on his face. “Okay. What’s in it for you?”

“To get my friends to stop dragging me to parties I don’t want to go to. But also, if they do manage to get me to go to a party somehow and there are annoying dudes there trying to flirt with me, I can say I have a boyfriend and I wouldn’t be lying.”

“Sort of,” Yuta comments drily. He crosses his arms against his chest, and it’s difficult not to notice his perfectly sculpted biceps. There’s a chain tattoo wrapped around his left arm that you’ve never seen before. “Well, I didn’t expect this. I guess I should say thanks.”

You shrug, looking down at the floor. “It’s whatever. I love those girls, but they can’t get off my ass about joining them at parties, when sometimes all I want to do is study at home,” you admit reluctantly, before looking back up at him. “Anyway. How are we going to do this?”

Yuta shoots you a grin, and for once it’s not the usual one that would make you roll your eyes. “I’m so glad you asked. To do this, we have to fool everyone, and that includes our own friends. Because if our friends don’t believe us, Glasses, then no one will.”

You’re irked by his use of the nickname (like, you’re not even wearing glasses at that moment!), but you tilt your head in curiosity. “What are you getting at?”

“Before we just tell everyone that we’re dating, we have to hang out with each other. One on one.” 

Your mouth runs dry at what he just said –  but Yuta’s not done talking. “You and I both know that everyone knows that we can’t get along, Y/N. How the hell are we going to convince them we’re dating when you keep insulting me?”

“You always insult me too,” you retort, and he nods solemnly.

“Yes, I have, and that’s why we have to stop doing that as soon as possible. Tomorrow I have an early morning class, but I’ll be free after. We can figure out all the details then,” he looks at you, reaching in his pocket for his phone. “Give me your phone.”

Your hands feel sweaty again at the thought of Yuta being able to contact you any time he wants, and you hope he doesn’t notice how jittery you are as you hand him your phone.

As he types his number in and calls his phone from yours, you let out a dry laugh. “So it’s a date, huh?”

“I guess you could call it that,” Yuta gives your phone back to you but is unable to meet your eyes. Is he feeling embarrassed at the thought of going on a date with you? 

Your heart drops when you think about it. You think you’re sobering up now, because now you’re wondering if you've just made a huge mistake.

“Um… I should go,” you breathe, clutching your purse close to your chest.

“Wait,” he says, looking into your eyes again, and there’s a small smile on his face. 

Any second thoughts you have vanish instantly. 

Yuta extends his hand out, his grin growing wider. “We should shake on it.”

“Shake on it? You’re such a dweeb.”

He rolls his eyes. “Just do it.”

So you do.

You wake up with a light headache, but you’re surprised to find a painkiller and a glass of water on your nightstand, a small note sitting right beside it.

take this, I know you need it -N

You sigh in awe, thanking the heavens for you having such a godsend for a best friend. You don’t know what time it is, but the rest of the apartment is quiet, so you assume your roommates are at their mid-morning classes. After taking the pill, you check your phone for the time. As you suspected, it’s almost 11. You also have two unread texts that were sent to you half an hour ago.

Unknown: this is yuta. i’m free now

Unknown: unless ur still sleeping lol

You roll your eyes, swiftly typing a response.

you: dickhead

you: u would sleep in too if u had my bed

You don’t know how long it will take for him to reply, so you put some music on and take a shower. Your pet cat Pumpkin isn’t scratching at your door like he usually does, so you reckon one of your roommates had already fed him for the morning. 

As you’re getting ready, you recall the events of the night before with a shudder. It feels like a fever dream that you actually showed up at Yuta’s house in the middle of the night so you could tell him that you would pretend to be his girlfriend, but that crappy beer you had must have given you a boost in confidence.

You’re in the middle of having breakfast when you hear your phone buzz.

yuta: oh good morning sleeping beauty

yuta: come find me at the library ;)

Fifteen minutes later, you find Yuta sitting at a lone table right in the center of the library. He’s dressed in a grey hoodie and blue jeans, his red hair tied up into a mini ponytail.

“Took you long enough, Glasses,” Yuta remarks when he sees you, a smirk on his face.

You ignore his comment, pulling up the chair across from him and sitting down. The library is empty besides two people sitting at different corners, so you don’t bother keeping your voice hushed. “Let’s talk terms,” you start counting off your fingers. “First, no more calling me Glasses.”

Yuta pouts at that. “Aww, come on. Not even as a – what do you call it – term of endearment?”

“No,” you narrow your eyes at him. “Fake boyfriend or not, that’s a stupid thing to call your significant other. No more Glasses,” though he still looks put out by it, you take his silence as a sign to continue. “You can call me by other nicknames. The usual, like baby and stuff.”

“Okay, stuff,” he grins.

You glare at him.

“Fine, baby it is,” Yuta relents, crossing his arms over his chest. “Damn. You’re no fun in the morning, huh?”

You really aren’t. You once gave Jisoo the silent treatment for one whole week because she had the audacity to prank you by setting an early alarm on a day you were supposed to peacefully sleep in, but that’s not a story you are going to tell him. 

“Second, this relationship shouldn’t last longer than a month.”

“Don’t I get a say in that?” Yuta protests, raising an eyebrow at you. “What if girls start hitting on me the second we break up?”

“That’s your problem,” you smile smugly. “Remember, Nakamoto. I’m only doing this fake relationship for my own gain, and I only need it until the end of finals week.”

He stares at you for a moment with narrowed eyes, and you expect him to say something biting back to you, but suddenly the smirk is back on his face.

“Fine. My turn to list my own terms.”

“I’m not finished y-”

He clicks his tongue, interrupting you. “You talk too much, baby. Are you forgetting who came up with this whole fake relationship idea in the first place?” 

You could only glare as you keep your mouth shut, and nod at him as a way to tell him to begin.

“We need to go on fake dates. All the time,” he says so solemnly that you almost laugh. “To fake it for the gram, of course. And whenever we’re around our friends, we have to hold hands or something. Just so they don’t get suspicious.”

You blink. The thought of holding hands with Yuta in front of all your friends made your stomach do a flip.

Yuta grins at you, relaxed as ever. “Why don’t you take a story of me now? The sooner the better.”

It’s difficult to argue with his logic, so you pull out your phone and quickly snap a picture of him looking to the side, his tiny ponytail on display. As you prepare to post it on your story, you can already hear all the things your friends will say the second they view it, but you push that thought down. You’ll just have to worry about that later.

“Anything else?” you say as you put your phone back in your pocket. 

“You need to call me baby too,” he adds, and you groan out loud.

“Come on!” you cry out, looking at him in exasperation. “Isn’t that the guys’ thing to do?”

“Incorrect. And very sexist of you,” Yuta deadpans. “Call me baby, and I’ll stop calling you Glasses for the rest of time. Deal?”

It’s a very tempting offer, and even though you’re still inwardly cringing at how you’re supposed to call him baby, you sigh in surrender. “Fine, whatever. But I have one last condition.”

“Shoot.”

“After the time is up, if we go back to being enemies or not, you can never tell anyone that this relationship was fake. That will be too embarrassing for either of us.” 

Yuta smirks. “Whatever you need, baby,” he replies and you roll your eyes. That nickname will take a while to get used to. Before you can say anything, he looks at you and says, “By the way, we can’t tell anyone right away, or they’ll never believe it.”

You nod. “That’s fair.”

Although you would prefer to get this done with as soon as possible, you agree with Yuta. You know that Nayeon (and perhaps Jennie and Jisoo to a lesser extent) knows more than anyone just how deep your hatred for Yuta ran in your bones, so telling her that you’re suddenly dating him won’t fool her at all. You suppose that Instagram story that you posted of him was a good start to your deception.

“Okay,” you clap once, flashing him a saccharine smile. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I’m done talking. Go away,” you tell him, pulling out textbooks and a few notebooks from your bag, readying yourself for a long day of studying ahead. 

Yuta doesn't move, still looking at you with those big eyes of his. 

“Or…” he trails off, and you look up at him, waiting for him to finish. “...we could study together, and after you're done, we could get to know each other a little better. How does that sound?”

You rub your temples and sigh. “Just as long as you don't piss me off too much.”

He grins, signing an X over his heart. “I'll be the best study buddy, I promise.”

Yuta then pulls out his own textbooks and supplies and you gasp in surprise at the amount of pens in his large pencil case – two large bundles of them are tied together with rubber bands, plus a few loose ones that are scattered at the bottom.  

“Do you really need that many pens?” you ask.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I tend to go through them a lot because I make a lot of notes in class. You can take some off my hands if you want to.”

You shake your head in disbelief and reach for a blue pen. “Well, now I know who to go to when I need another pen,” you joke, fiddling with the clicker and doodling with it at the corner of your notebook. You start writing out some notes with it. “Wow, this is a really good one. Never thought you’d be the one to write down your notes, Nakamoto. I just assumed you typed them all into your laptop or something.”

Yuta sends you a wink. “I’m traditional like that.”

“Are you sure I can take this?” you question, eyeing the pen in your hand. You can’t deny that you’re already fond of how easy and comfortable it is to use, but you’re hesitant about taking something from Yuta.

“Of course. I mean, I literally have 50 more.”

“Thanks,” you reply quietly, feeling a surge of gratitude. A week ago, if someone told you that Yuta will offer something to you and you’ll willingly accept it, you would have laughed straight in their face. You're aware that it’s just a pen, but the sweet gesture tugs at something in your heart.

Maybe Yuta doesn’t really hate you as much as you think he does.

You sneak a glance at him and a small crease has appeared between his eyebrows and his lips has formed into a pout as he’s carefully highlighting a passage in his textbook. It’s strangely cute, especially since he’s using a neon pink highlighter. He inclines his head down, and you see that the hair band holding up his ponytail is also a light shade of pink. 

Your heart skips a beat.

You clear your throat as if he suddenly caught you staring, even though you’re sure he’s still focused on taking notes. Fighting the sudden wave of awkwardness in your gut, you try to focus on your own books.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you fish it out to see you’ve gotten a few notifications.

nayeonyny replied to your story: ur hanging out with the DEVIL himself????

jennierubyjane replied to your story: is this real lol

You resist the urge to immediately reply to your friends’ messages, and ignore it for now. As you look at Yuta, his head bent down as he studies his notes, it sinks in that this will be your life for the next few weeks.

What have you gotten yourself into?

The rest of your study session went by without a hitch, save for a couple of snarky remarks from Yuta. He had been a really good study buddy, much to your surprise. You really admire his commitment to taking down all of his notes – and now you understand why, seeing as how his handwriting is the neatest and the most beautiful of anyone you’ve ever seen. 

(But you did not voice your praises to him because he really doesn’t need another reason for his head to get any bigger.)

After an hour of studying, you made good on your promise to get to know each other better. Yuta had listened intently as you explained the reason why you chose your major, and in turn, he told you that he had a few dozen cousins in Japan that he has never met. It was only when the sun had dipped low outside the library windows that you decided that you'd learned enough about him and called your study session to a close.

The rest of the week consisted of the two of you playing the part on social media, with him posting several cryptic shots of you on his stories – which was met with much pestering from both your friend groups – and you informing your friends how you would be too occupied to join them partying or going out at night. While you didn’t exactly disclose what you were going to be doing during those times, you were leaving that up to their imaginations. 

In truth, though, you mostly went to the nearest cafe to study in peace. The other times were reserved for your fake dates with Yuta.

You’re not oblivious as to how Nayeon has been suspicious of your behaviour, but you’ve been able to dodge her questions for most of the time. You think you're positively dying from the weight of keeping a secret from your best friend, but as for now, your only confidant is Pumpkin.

You’re getting ready in your bedroom when you let out an apprehensive sigh.

“It’s happening today,” you tell your cat, staring into the vanity mirror. 

Pumpkin is lying on his back on the edge of your bed with his furry stomach exposed for you to see, and you're sure he’s asleep until he lets out a trilling sound at your comment.

Usually you’d coo at every little noise and action done by the cat and the sight of his white tummy would be too adorable for you to resist, but you’re too preoccupied by your thoughts to even notice.

Today is the day. 

Yuta will be arriving at your place at any moment, and you could practically hear the quiet beating of the clock in the living room ticking down the seconds until you hear the doorbell ring. 

Both Nayeon and Jisoo are still lazing around at home, because unlike you, they don’t have classes until later in the day. There’s a soft rumbling sound of the television that carries through the thin walls. Someone’s in the living room – right next to where the front door is.

You can taste the dread in your mouth as your brain comes up with all the possible scenarios of how your roommates would react when Yuta walks through that door. 

Once you’re done putting the finishing touches of your outfit, you gather your things and stop by your bed to stroke Pumpkin’s ears. “Well, wish me luck.” 

You’ve opened the door when Pumpkin gets down from the bed and stretches, suddenly deciding that he’s not in the mood for a nap anymore. He follows you into the kitchen and takes his usual spot on the kitchen island. You smile for a second at how cute he is, but your mind clouds again once you spot who’s in the living room.

Jisoo’s hogging the couch, which is in plain view from where you’re standing in the kitchen. The TV is playing a rerun of Stranger Things, but you don’t really think she’s paying any attention. Jisoo turns around when she hears the rattling of the fridge door when you open it.

“Oh, hey,” Jisoo greets, stifling a yawn. “Got a lot of classes today, huh?”

“Yeah,” you return timidly, taking a bottle of root beer from the side rack and unscrewing the cap with more force than necessary. You chug down the drink hastily, silently wishing it was a magic potion that could give you the confidence to go through with what you’ve planned for the day.

Jisoo doesn’t seem to notice the tremor in your voice. She runs a hand through her hair then studies her nails. “Sucks. Well, I have nothing to do for a while. Do you want me to drop you off?”

A nervous laugh escapes you. “Thanks, but I kind of already have a ride.”

The ringing of the doorbell makes you jump.

Jisoo gets up without a word, and before you can say anything, your roommate has opened the door to reveal a smirking Yuta, clad in all black.

There’s no mistaking the confusion in Jisoo’s voice. “What are you doing here?”

Yuta’s sporting a lazy smile, and doesn’t seem to notice how bewildered your friend looks. “I’m Y/N’s ride for today,” he says casually, as if it’s the most natural words to ever come out of his mouth.

You’re mortified when you witness how wide Jisoo’s eyes have become, and you’re convinced that they just might pop right out of her sockets if you don’t intervene. 

You set down your root beer on the kitchen island and walk towards the door. “I got it from here,” you say breezily despite feeling the opposite. You reach for Yuta’s hand, to which he immediately clasps yours in his, and then shoot your roommate the sweetest smile you could muster. “See you at lunch, Jisoo.”

Jisoo’s still agape when you close the door behind you, and you wait until you’ve gone down a floor before speaking up. “Couldn’t you have been a bit more subtle? You almost gave her a heart attack!” you hiss, glaring at Yuta.

But Yuta is unfazed by your outburst. “You’re the one who held my hand first,” he responds without hesitation.

You look down and realise that your hand is, in fact, still intertwined with his even though you’re now in the lobby and are walking out towards Yuta’s car. You quickly pull away, feeling your cheeks warm. 

“Whatever,” you retort. You're unable to find a proper comeback, too focused on the fact that you were holding onto his hand for way too long.

Embarrassing.

You let out a deep breath and cross your arms against your chest. “Anyway, just remember – I don’t want to flaunt whatever this is in everyone’s faces. That’ll just make us look desperate!”

Yuta opens the passenger seat door for you. “Can’t be a new thing for you,” he deadpans, leaving you speechless.

He stares at you before his expression breaks into a rueful smile. “Okay, I take that back. I said no more insults, right?” he affirms, playfully leaning against the door. “Come on, get in the car. Don’t want to be late, now, do we princess?”

It’s only because he reminds you that the both of you will be late that you’re willing to dismiss his incredibly half-assed apology. You slide into the passenger seat with a huff.

You wait until he gets in the car before you look at him pointedly. “I don’t want to hear another word from you until we reach campus.”

“No promises.”

Aside from the soft rock music blasting from the car speakers, the short ride to the campus is actually rather quiet, in contradiction to Yuta's attempt to tell you otherwise. You suppose he knows that you’re on your last straw – especially after the whole hand-holding incident – and the two of you have to be on good terms on the day you’re supposed to quietly debut your fake relationship to everyone.

You’re glad he knows that, because one more remark from him would have just infuriated you further.

Before leaving for his own lecture, Yuta drops you off in front of the lecture hall, a smirk on his face. “See you later, baby,” he whispers right next to your ear just for you to hear, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that form on your skin.

During the class, your thoughts keep veering to what Yuta told you when you went on a fake date just three nights ago.

“We do it on a random afternoon, when everyone’s eating in the cafeteria,” Yuta says conspiratorially, fiddling with his thumbs. You notice that’s a peculiar little habit he does whenever he’s excited. His half-eaten burger has been pushed aside, too caught up in telling you about his plan.

You stare at him blankly. “Do what?”

“We walk in together, holding hands,” he announces, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “What do you think? Not too over-the-top, but still enough to get people talking.”

It’s undeniably clever, and you don’t really have your own idea on how to go about it, so you reply: “Let’s do it.”

But looking back now, your stomach does flips when you think about what you're about to do very soon. Holding hands with Yuta in front of Jisoo in the safety of your own apartment is one thing, but walking into the cafeteria hand-in-hand with him where practically the entire college population could see it is another.

Uncharacteristically of you, you’re unable to focus much during your classes. You only have two before the inevitable lunch break, and before you know it, you’re at the place where the two you agreed to meet. 

As promised, Yuta is already there waiting for you, his bag slung over one shoulder. Instead of his usual smirk, he shoots you an easy smile that strangely eases the knot in your stomach.

“Are you ready?” he questions, hand outstretched for you. You take it.

“Now or never, I guess,” you say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. You’re sure he could see right through your demeanour, seeing as your hand is unusually sweaty. You’re awaiting a snide comment from him about it, but he doesn’t say a word.

When the two of you walk through the cafeteria doors, you can immediately feel eyes on you. You spot Nayeon, Jennie and Jisoo at your usual table, and if it was any other day, you’d head straight to them.

Today, you have a different plan.

Hand still clasped in his, Yuta leads you to where Johnny, Jaehyun and Taeyong are sitting. It’s Taeyong that notices you first, and you almost burst out laughing at how wide his eyes go when his gaze lands on your intertwined hands. The other two crane their necks to catch a glimpse at what he’s looking at – and when they see you, Johnny falls silent and Jaehyun’s jaw drops.

You send Yuta a sweet smile when he pulls out a chair for you to sit on. 

“Thanks,” you say appreciatively as you take your seat, secretly loving how your little audience is making zero attempts to hide their stares. Yuta takes the seat across from you, and you can tell he’s also trying his best not to laugh.

Johnny clears his throat, so quick to fix his composure. “Y/N, I didn’t know you’d be joining us today.”

“Yeah, Yuta invited me at the last minute. I hope you don’t mind?” you say in a light-hearted tone, studying their faces intently.

Taeyong and Johnny immediately shake their heads at your words. Jaehyun, though, is still staring at you for an impolite amount of time at this point, so Johnny not-so-subtly slaps him in the back. 

“Fuck!” Jaehyun coughs heartily, before choking out, “Um, no, we don’t mind at all!”

Before you can respond, Yuta murmurs, “Heads up, we’ve got company.”

You want to look up and see who Yuta’s talking about, but you can already tell who it is by the familiar sound of stilettos clicking, getting louder as she heads towards your direction. Only one person you know would bother wearing six-inch heels and outfits that were way too elegant for a Thursday afternoon lecture.

Jennie slams a hand down in front of you the moment she reaches the table, making everyone jump at the sudden intrusion.

“Hey, Y/N! What’s going on?” she asks you, her tone a tad more enthusiastic then what it probably should be. She has a grin on her face, though it screams confusion more than anything, and you almost giggle.

“Oh, nothing, I’m just gonna have lunch with Yuta today,” you reply with a cheeky smile.

“You and your friends are welcome to join us if you’d like,” Yuta adds smoothly, and before the words are completely out of his mouth, Jennie is already rushing back to tell the others. Two minutes later, Nayeon, Jennie and Jisoo have squished themselves into the seats beside you, even though there’s really not enough space for all eight of you on that table.

Ignoring the awkwardness in the air, Yuta reaches into his bag and lays out a few packed pastries onto the table. “I’ve got some for everyone,” he says. Then, he sends you a wink as he hands you a package. “And your favourite, baby.”

Gasps are heard around the table and your face heats up when the nickname falls from his lips.

Well, there’s the final nail in the coffin.

Jisoo turns to you with a puzzled look. “Okay – what? What’s going on? Why are you sitting at the guys’ table? And why is calling you baby?”

Yuta directly stares at Jisoo, a solemn look on his face. “I would think that that’s a normal thing to call your girlfriend.”

Ah, so much for not flaunting your fake relationship in everyone's faces.

“Girlfriend? What? You’re dating?!” Jennie shrieks, attracting attention from the surrounding tables. As if the sheer amount of people sat at this table wasn’t conspicuous enough. You resist the urge to bury your face in your hands.

“Is that why he dropped by this morning saying he’ll be your ride?” Jisoo asks you, her eyes still wide in amazement. 

“He dropped by this morning?” Nayeon’s eyes quickly turn to Jisoo, scandalised. “You didn’t tell me that!”

“Hey, listen, I was kind of too shocked to tell you–”

“Uhh, don’t you two hate each other?” Jaehyun asks, a bewildered look on his face.

“Maybe they finally realised they had to get rid of the sexual tension between them and just fucked it out,” Johnny mumbles in amusement.

Your head snaps up to look at Johnny. “What sexual tension?”

Seeing the look on your face, Yuta waves his hand dismissively. “Alright. alright, relax,” he says coolly, his signature smirk back on his face. You haven’t seen it on him for so long that you almost forgot how the sight of it used to infuriate you. He crosses his arms against his chest. “We did a study session together last week and have been hanging out ever since. No crime against that, is there?”

“And – let me get this straight,” Taeyong cuts in, putting up a hand to interrupt Yuta, before looking at you. “You didn’t attempt to strangle him even once?”

You shake your head and laugh. “Oh, believe me, I wanted to – at first,” you begin, surprising yourself at how truthful you're being. You glance at Yuta to see what he’s thinking, and he’s staring back at you. “But he’s actually not so bad once you get to know him.”

Yuta grins. “Thanks, babe. Right back at you.”

“This is crazy,” Nayeon deadpans, her gaze landing at the package in front of you. “I mean – two weeks ago you were saying you hated his guts. And now he’s getting you your favourite pastry? That’s crazy.”

In the commotion, you had forgotten that Yuta had given you something until Nayeon pointed it out. You look down at the package and raise your eyebrows in surprise when you realise it’s a chocolate croissant – your favourite ever since you could remember. 

Did you ever mention that to him? 

From what you can recall, the only information you told him was about your family, your education and your career goals, so you’re not sure how he could have known that. You decide to brush it aside for now, seeing as how Jennie is furtively nudging you at that moment. You turn to her with a questioning look. 

She leans in to whisper in your ear. “Ignore Nayeon. I’m really happy for you, babe. I mean, look at the way he’s looking at you.”

Yuta’s gaze is indeed on you, and there’s a mysterious smile on his face. Right away, you know the others would interpret it as a smile of adoration or something like that, but you know exactly why he’s smiling.

The plan is working.

“I don’t buy it.”

You look up from your textbook, seeing Nayeon leaning against your doorway. As if understanding her words, Pumpkin, curled up by the wheels of your chair, lets a meow of agreement.

You don’t even have to ask what she’s talking about.

“Why not?” you raise an eyebrow in fake confusion, masking the nervousness you feel inside.

Nayeon stares at you for a beat, before coming in and sitting at the edge of your bed. You spin around in your chair to face her. “Because you hate that man, Y/N. With every inch of you.”

“Things change, Nayeon,” you offer your already-rehearsed explanation, even though you could already feel your walls crumbling. It’s physically impossible to keep anything from her – your best friend knows you like the back of her hand.

And just like you expect, Nayeon gives you a knowing look.

You let out a sigh, getting up to close the door. If Nayeon is going to know about your deception, you’re not going to take the risk of Jisoo possibly overhearing you confirming it to her.

Once the door is securely shut and locked, you turn around and cross your arms with a huff. “Okay, fine,” you confess quietly. “It’s not real. But I have a good reason behind it.”

Nayeon’s face is a blend of amusement and curiosity. “And what’s that?”

You run a hand down your face. “To get all of you to stop pressuring me to go out all the time!” the second those words leave your lips, you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. You didn’t realise how much this secret has been dragging you down all week. “Look, I love you, but you know how much my studies mean to me too.”

“Oh.”

The room falls silent.

“Okay, uh…” Nayeon starts but trails off quickly, suddenly staring at the floor in front of her. You tilt your head to look at her, and even though her face is angled away from you, the guilt on her face is crystal clear. “You, uh… we’re that annoying that you really had to get a fake boyfriend to get rid of us? I… I’m so sorry, babe.”

Your heart sinks. 

“Hey, don’t say that,” you sigh. You rush to sit next to her, and start patting her back assuringly. “It’s not just that. I mean, it’s also my fault for not learning how to say no. I know you mean well, really, wanting me to find someone for myself and all – but I don’t think I can really say no since Jisoo’s not as understanding as you, you get me?”

Amidst your speech, Nayeon lets out a muffled laugh.

“Also, when I went to that party with you two last week – even though all I really wanted was to just study at home – an icky guy tried to hit on me. I just thought that was the last straw.”

Your friend nods, the uncertainty on her face clearing a little. “Okay, I guess I get that. But, um, why pretty boy, of all people?”

“He approached me first. At my library corner. Said something about wanting all the girls to stop chasing him,” you explain in irritation, before smiling smugly. “Of course I said no first, but I changed my mind and agreed to do it because I’m a better person than him.”

Nayeon rolls her eyes at your words. “Very big of you,” she replies drily.

“Don’t get me wrong, I still hate his guts,” you tell her in defiance, then falling back into your sheets. “It won’t last long. Latest probably until finals are over.”

Nayeon doesn’t turn to face you, instead she’s staring at something on the floor of the bedroom. Perhaps she’s looking at Pumpkin – as the room goes quiet, you can hear him grooming his fur.

Your best friend finally speaks up again, but this time her voice is guarded. “I wonder why he came to you though.”

“The poor guy must have been desperate,” your attempt to snub, but the promise you made to Yuta about not insulting him anymore lingers at the back of your mind, and your tone falls flat. Of course he’s not here to hear it, but the guilt eats at you anyway.

“And yet you agreed,” Nayeon turns around to face you, a teasing smile on her face. “Maybe you’re the desperate one.”

“Hey!” you grab your pillow and smack her with it. “Not cool!”

Nayeon giggles at your reaction. “Well, it makes sense now. I guess I can see why you didn’t tell me about this.” 

You look directly into her eyes, shaking your head. “You’re the only one who knows. And you can’t tell anyone.”

Not even Jisoo, the words are at the tip of your tongue, but you know you don’t have to voice it to Nayeon. The both of you know that if Jisoo learns about your fake relationship, soon the entire school would know because she can’t keep her mouth shut to save her life.

“I won’t tell a soul,” Nayeon promises.

You’re currently scouring through your wardrobe, looking for a decent outfit you could put together. It’s Friday night – a time that you would usually reserve for staying in and curling up in your room with a novel, Pumpkin sleeping soundly by your side. 

Earlier when you were having lunch with your friends, though, Yuta had dropped by your table to ask you something.

“You wanna go out tonight?” he leans forward to whisper in your ear, but his voice is loud enough that everyone at the table has already heard it. Nayeon cocks up an eyebrow, while Jennie lets out a low whistle and Jisoo grins.

“Um, what?” you reply blankly, wiping the side of your mouth where a bit of your latte had dribbled out.

“A date, just the two of us. I figured since it’s a Friday…” Yuta shrugs, tilting his head in curiosity. “Unless you don’t want to?”

You’re well aware of the pairs of eyes on you, awaiting your answer, and you wish Yuta had told you he was going to do this beforehand so you could’ve prepared a proper response – because you don’t know how to react.

It takes you a few beats to realise that you’re taking too long, so you just nod. “Okay, sure. Where do you want to go?”

“Ah-ah, that’s going to be a surprise,” he winks, before readying to leave. “I’ll pick you up tonight, babe.”

You swear you could’ve strangled him for pulling that stunt without any prior warning, and now you’re cursing him for keeping the location of the date a secret – because what the hell are you supposed to wear?

The door of your bedroom opens and Jennie walks in, heading towards your wardrobe at once.

You let out a cry of relief. “Oh, thank God you’re finally here!” you sigh, collapsing onto your bed. You’re sitting on top of a few pieces of clothing you had thrown on your bedsheets while searching your wardrobe, tossed aside because none of them really felt right. “I have nothing to wear.”

“Nonsense! I know exactly what you should wear,” Jennie assures you as she sifts through your clothes.

You’re not sure what she’s referring to, but since she’s the fashion design major, you suppose you should trust her judgement. When Jennie pulls out your favourite sleeveless dress, you look at her skeptically. 

“It’s going to be cold outside,” you attempt to oppose.

“Then wear it with this jacket,” Jennie responds, holding up a black leather jacket that you only wear on special occasions. The outfit matches perfectly, you admit, but it’s also much nicer than what you thought it would be.

On your previous meetups with Yuta, you just threw on whatever was most comfortable for you at that moment and called it a day – but that was also when you weren’t trying to convince anyone that you were actually dating him. 

Seeing the look on your face, Jennie shakes her head. “Come on, you’re going on a date! You should look your best!”

You can’t really argue with her without making her suspicious, so you agree. Jennie leaves the room so you can finish getting ready. Yuta had texted you earlier saying that he’ll arrive at your dorm around 7, so you still have about ten minutes.

You’re looking in the mirror and fixing your hair when you hear the doorbell ring. When you leave the bedroom and enter the living area, Yuta’s hovering by the doorway, chatting quietly with Jennie. You spot Pumpkin curled up on your sofa.

“Well, don’t you two look like two peas in a pod?” Jennie coos, a grin on her face. Yuta’s also wearing a leather jacket similar to yours, and now you’re wondering if she had chosen this outfit for you on purpose. 

“Hey,” Yuta greets you with a smile, his hand extended out for you. “Shall we go?”

You nod, taking his hand. An inexplicable warmth spreads through your body when he intertwines his fingers with yours. You turn to your friend. “Um, I’ll see you later, Jen.”

“Have fun, you two!” Jennie shouts as the door closes behind you.

The second you know there’s no longer an audience, you pull your hand away from his. The hallway is slightly chilly, so you pull your jacket close to your body.

“Are you really not going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope.”

You huff. “Fine, but the least you could do is pass me the aux.”

In your peripheral vision, you see Yuta sporting a wide grin. “Whatever makes you happy, babe.”

You can’t really tell if he’s mocking you with the use of the nickname, but when you reach his car, he indeed lets you take control of the music. You put on a chill playlist and lean back against the seat with a sigh.

“You should’ve told me that you were going to ask me out today. I almost blew our cover in front of our friends!”

You can tell he wants to look at you, but Yuta is never one to take his eyes off the road when he’s driving. Instead, he replies evenly, “Dates are a part of our deal, are they not?”

“Yes, but like I said, you should’ve at least warned me first,” you retaliate.

Yuta shrugs, his hands still on the steering wheel. “Just wanted to surprise you like a normal boyfriend does.”

“Fake boyfriend, that is – or have you already forgotten that?” you reply sarcastically. You glance at him, continuing, “And another thing – you should really cool it with all the nicknames! Like, what’s the point of calling me babe when there’s no one around?”

You hear him scoff. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re the one who should start calling me babe or baby! I’ve never heard you call me that even once,” he grates, his tone brusque even though his gaze is still fixed on the road ahead. “I told you, it’s either that or I will call you Gl-”

“Okay, okay!” you grumble, already flinching before the first syllable of his former nickname for you had even left his mouth. Your glasses are on your face tonight, only serving as a sick reminder of what he used to call you. “I’ll call you baby or whatever. Just don’t ever call me that stupid word ever again, please.”

Yuta snickers and you groan inwardly, resenting how easily you had let him have that victory. It’s silent for a moment before you turn to face him again.

“Can you tell me where we’re going now?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on!”

Despite your constant prodding, Yuta held his ground and had kept his lips sealed for the entire car ride. You admire his determination to keep your destination a secret – because the second he pulls up into the parking lot of the newest arcade center in the city, it all becomes worth it.

“No way,” you mutter in awe, unable to hide your grin as you survey the impressive size of the building. The word FUNSCAPE is emblazoned across the front, flashing in bright neon colours. You pull out your phone to take a photo of it.

Yuta maneuvers the car into a parking spot close to the entrance and once the engine is off, he turns to you and wiggles his eyebrows. “Hope you like it.”

You’re already scrambling to get out of the car. “Are you kidding? I love it!” you squeal in excitement, slamming his car door shut behind you. “I’m going to beat the shit out of you at every game.”

He grunts. “We’ll see about that.”

Walking through the front doors together, Yuta heads to the front counter to exchange money for some tokens, while you stride across to a row of air hockey tables. Immediately you’re reminded of the times you played it with your best friends in the arcade at the local mall back in your hometown. That arcade was much smaller and nowhere near as grand as this one, but the familiarity of the sport and the memory still warms your heart.

When Yuta approaches you, a handful of tokens in his grasp, you shoot him a deceptively sweet smile. “You’re going down, buddy.”

“Oh, you’re on.”

Choosing the nearest table, Yuta sets his phone next to the scoreboard and opens the camera. He changes it into a selfie video mode, and you can just barely see the two of you at each end of the frame. You look at him curiously. “What’s that for?”

“Officially, for the gram,” he tells you seriously, before his face breaks into a cocky smirk. “Unofficially, visual evidence of how easily I can beat you.”

It’s laughable how he really believes he has a chance at winning over you, a former air hockey champion amongst your friends. You don't want him to know how confident you are in your skills, so you mirror his smirk. “Keep dreaming, Nakamoto.”

Yuta inserts two tokens into the slot and presses the record button on his phone, and the game begins. You grip the disc in your hand, swinging a puck at an angle, which then bounces off the wall and goes straight into Yuta’s goal.

Yuta’s nostrils flare at your immediate success, and you snicker. The tricks to winning are already coming back to you, even though you haven’t played in a while. As the game continues, Yuta is able to sneak one or two pucks into your goal, but his points still pale in comparison to yours. Before long, the scoreboard has declared you the winner. Yuta groans in defeat and you laugh.

You bring the disc to your mouth and blow on it, as if blowing smoke off the barrel of a gun. “Still got it,” you smile smugly.

Yuta rolls his eyes. “Please, you got lucky. I’ll beat you in the next round.”

He inserts another two tokens and the game starts again. Now, he’s able to block some of your shots towards his goal, but your blocking technique for your own goal remains unbeatable. Two minutes later, the scoreboard shows that you’ve trumped him again, and Yuta is left glaring at the numbers on the screen.

“Still feeling good about that visual evidence, Nakamoto?” you let out a small giggle. 

Yuta shakes his head loftily and snatches up his phone, ending the video recording. “You win this time, babe. But I know for a fact that I’ll beat your ass at any other game here.”

Taking his words as a challenge, the two of you head towards the basketball machine to insert a few tokens. Even though you’re quite sure that he’s not into any sports, Yuta is surprisingly good at aiming for the net – and you aren’t even mad when he eventually wins. 

“Can we call it even now?”

Yuta grins, nudging you with his elbow. “Are you too scared to play anything else now just because I beat you at this?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I can beat you at billiards with my eyes closed,” you shake your head indignantly. “You up for that?”

“You bet your ass.”

Walking towards the billiards table, you two agree for a best two out of three game. Yuta wins the first round, much to your chagrin.

“What were you saying about beating me with your eyes closed?” Yuta asks you as he places the cue stick behind his neck and rests his hands on each end. There’s a smirk on his face, but his head is tilted at an angle that you find somewhat endearing. 

Immediately, you feel the urge to take a picture of him in that specific pose, so you pull out your phone and aim your camera at him. Yuta barely has any time to react but he’s able to put on a surprised little smile before you take the photo.

As you pocket your phone, you reply snarkily, “Don’t celebrate anything just yet. It’ll just be embarrassing for you when I win.”

True to your word, you manage to pull through and win the other two rounds. As soon as the final ball falls into the hole, you slam the cue stick against your hand and grin triumphantly. “And that, Nakamoto, is how you do it.”

Yuta lets out a groan. “Fine, you win. But I must say, you’ve got one hell of a game in you,” he says while rolling his eyes, but you can see hints of a smile on his face. “Respect.”

You were expecting him to accept his defeat with much less grace, so your grin only widens at his comment. You look at your surroundings, dozens of machines and plenty other games occupying the massive space. “Well, what do you want to play next?” 

Yuta glances down at his watch, and then sets his cue stick down on the table. “Actually, I was thinking we could grab a bite. There’s a hot dog place just near here – sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Five minutes later, you and Yuta are walking side by side to the hot dog restaurant. Yuta had insisted on driving, but you didn’t see the point of it when all you needed to do to get to your destination was just to walk to the other side of the parking lot.

The air is quiet as you stroll past the abundance of cars. It’s also slightly cold just as you predicted earlier, which wouldn’t be a problem since you’re wearing your jacket, but your bare legs definitely feel the chill.

You sneak a glance at Yuta, whose hands are buried deep in the pockets of his jacket. The wind has swept his fringe away from his face, leaving a red tuft comically sticking up in the opposite direction from the rest of his hair. You giggle.

“What?” Yuta asks, his head turning to you.

You look away quickly. “Um, nothing. It’s just – I can’t believe you wanted to take the car when the restaurant is literally two minutes away.”

“It would’ve been less than a minute if we drove,” Yuta grumbles quietly, then looks back at you with a smirk on his face. “Besides, the car’s heater would have saved you from shivering like you’re doing right now.”

You glare at him, quietly wondering how he could have possibly known that when he hasn't spared you a glance since leaving the arcade. “I would’ve worn something more appropriate if you had just told me where we were going!”

Yuta chuckles, removing a hand from his pocket and reaching for yours. “Fine, that’s my bad,” he apologises, squeezing your hand. “Feel better now, baby?”

The nickname and the warmth of his touch immediately makes you feel less cold, but you’re not going to tell him that. “Whatever,” you mumble quietly.

Thankfully, you reach the restaurant half a minute later, and it’s significantly less chilly. Yuta leads you to a seat next to the window, and as he momentarily leaves to order your meals, you decide to scroll through Instagram.

The story you’ve posted of Yuta has gotten a few likes, with Jisoo replying with “👀”. Nayeon still hasn’t viewed it, but you can’t help but wonder what she would say once she does. 

The two of you haven’t had a moment alone together ever since you told her the truth yesterday – and so, you had no one to privately complain to after Yuta had dropped the bombshell during lunchtime. While your other two friends had gushed over how smoothly Yuta had asked you out, Nayeon only gave you a quiet gaze that you couldn’t quite decipher.

Yuta returns a minute later, setting down a large tray in front of you. “Eat up, princess,” he says even though you’re already reaching inside the paper bag. The smell of fried goods immediately hits your senses and your stomach growls.

“You got my order right,” you remark as you survey the hot dog in front of you. “I thought you’d order it wrong on purpose just to piss me off or something.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because that’s just the thing you’d do,” you roll your eyes as if it’s the most obvious statement in the world.

Yuta chuckles. “Nonsense. You know what they say – happy fake girlfriend, happy life.”

“I think the phrase you’re talking about is actually happy wife, happy life.”

He shrugs, beginning to munch on his fries. “Well, potato, tomato.”

You don’t have a response to that, so you start digging into your hot dog. For a while, the only sounds that can be heard are the quiet chewing from the both of you as you enjoy the food, and the rustling of the paper bag as Yuta reaches for a handful of fries every now and then.  

You sigh happily as you lean back in your chair, content with finally having some food in your belly. The games at the arcade had taken up a lot more of your energy than you thought.

You shoot a curious look at Yuta, who's finishing up the last of his fries.

“So…” you begin. “Are you getting fewer numbers from girls compared to before?”

“Not really,” he mutters almost incoherently, tossing the empty fries carton aside. He picks up the tissues laid on the tray to rub the grease off his fingers. “My DMs are still full with people who just can’t take the hint.”

“Maybe they’re not buying it,” you hum thoughtfully. “I mean, we did hate each other's guts like a week ago.”

Yuta tilts his head, a grin spreading across his face that’s so blinding that you’re caught off guard by the sight. “Does that mean you don’t hate me anymore?”

You hesitate, before narrowing your eyes at him. “Don’t get it twisted, Nakamoto. You’re still pretty damn annoying, but… I guess you’re more tolerable now.”

Yuta’s grin grows even wider, even though you aren’t sure that was even possible. “I’ll take it,” he falls silent again, fiddling with the tissue in front of him before he clears his throat. “I might have an idea of how to sell our relationship even more.”

“How?”

“We should take a selfie together and post it on Instagram. On our actual feed – not just the stories. And not just a normal selfie either, we should be posing like one of those nauseating Instagram couples.”

Oh hell no.

“Absolutely not!” you say, looking at him incredulously. “I don’t want your face anywhere near my feed.”

“Then we’ll just post it on mine,” Yuta challenges immediately, but you aren’t too keen on that either.

“Yuta–” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“Listen – just one pic. The most lovey-dovey, cringiest couple photo to end all lovey-dovey cringey couple photos. Once finals are over and we break up, I’ll delete it and it’ll be like it never happened!” Yuta tries to persuade you, his expression pleading. You give him a questioning look, though you’re silently weighing the pros and cons of what he’s proposing in your head. He sends you a sweet smile. “It’s for your own benefit too, you know?”

You suppose that’s true.

“Fine. We can do that,” you sigh in defeat. “But… later. I don't think I'm ready for that yet.”

Yuta brings his cup of Coke to his lips to hide his smirk. “No pressure, princess.”

Jisoo is absolutely hammered. 

To be fair, so are you. The ceiling seems to be spinning and the neon club lights are a little too bright that you have to squint your eyes every time you look up, but you’re not stumbling over your own feet like your friend on the dancefloor is doing right now.

“How does she do it?” Jennie sighs as she twirls the glass in her hand around mindlessly. Her other hand is cupping her face, elbow on the bar as the three of you take in the sight of Jisoo grinding on the dancefloor with a stranger.

Nayeon’s beside you, nursing her own drink in her hand. “You want to be like her? Really?” your best friend asks with a tilt of her head.

“Why not?” Jennie argues, waving a hand to punctuate her point. “That girl attracts practically everyone she sees. Me? I’m lucky if I find one decent guy on Tinder.”

“I told you nothing good comes from that app,” Nayeon shakes her head in disapproval, bringing her drink to her lips.

“Oh, give me a break!” Jennie sighs, leaning back in her seat in exasperation. “I know it’s not easy, but everyone deserves to find the Yuta to their Y/N, alright?”

“What?” you squeak, half-dazed.

Jennie sends you a smug smile. “I gotta admit, I’m jealous. You managed to bag one of the very, very few good guys on campus.”

You blink, opening your mouth to reply but Nayeon cuts in drily.

“Oh, that’s attractive.”

You follow her line of vision to where Jisoo is on the dancefloor, doing what you can only assume is her weird version of twerking.

You start snickering uncontrollably. 

You reach out to take a sip from Nayeon’s drink, but almost fall on your face when you do so – thankfully, she steadies you just before you could embarrass yourself.

“Alright, babe,” Nayeon chides, gripping your arm firmly. “That’s enough drinks for tonight.”

You groan. “Come on! I had, like, half the amount of what Jennie had. Can’t I have a bit mo–” A wave of nausea washes over you, and you hang your head down before you can finish your sentence.

Jennie appears beside you. She shakes her head, taking your other arm that’s free. “Bullshit. You’ve definitely had more than me,” she informs. You try to search for the usual telltale signs of her being drunk, but the dizzying array of light above stops you from really looking at her properly.

Nayeon hums in agreement. “Besides, Jennie can hold her alcohol well. You, my dear? Not so much.”

Another surge of sickness comes over your body, and you hang your head down in an attempt to let it pass. The pounding in your forehead grows as Nayeon and Jennie begin discussing something.

Nayeon taps your shoulder, her voice sounding far away even though she’s just next to you. “Where’s your phone?”

“Front pocket,” you mumble.

You don’t pay attention to Nayeon as she fumbles around in your purse, too focused on fighting off your nausea. Suddenly, a water bottle is placed in your hands and you’re not sure how, but you're grateful for it nonetheless as you greedily down its contents. Nayeon pats your back as you gulp down the water, and you could hear Jennie murmuring quietly into a call.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jennie finishes, and you look up to see tapping away at your phone, then she hands it back to you. You accept it with shaky hands. “Yuta will be here soon.”

You nod aimlessly, her words not really registering in your head. Nayeon clears her throat. “Yuta?”

“Your place is too far away, and Miss Lightweight here–” Jennie shoots you a sideways glance, “–will definitely throw up in the Uber if the drive takes too long.”

“Okay, yeah, but isn’t your place just nearby?” Nayeon replies, and there's something significant in her tone, but you can’t really tell what it is in your drunken haze.

“There won’t be space for all four of us,” Jennie shrugs, patting you on the shoulder and grinning widely. “Besides, I don’t think pretty boy would mind, would he, Y/N?”

You moan. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Nayeon guides the water bottle in your hands back towards your mouth. You don’t know how much time passes as your friends try to sober you up, but Yuta suddenly appears in front of you.

He’s looking very much out-of-place amongst the sea of stylishly-dressed people in the nightclub, seeing that he’s only clad in grey sweatpants and a black slogan tee that says I have no idea why I’m out of bed. 

Your headache a little cleared now, you’re able to manage a smile. “My knight-in-funny pajamas is here.”

The look of concern on Yuta’s face immediately melts away at your words. He rolls his eyes at you and turns to your friends. “Will you ladies be okay?”

Jennie nods. “Oh yeah, we’ll be fine. We were just worried about this messy drunk here,” she says and pats your shoulder affectionately.

You pull away indignantly, crossing your arms. “I’m not messy!” you protest, sliding off your seat. “Look, I can still dance a bit. Which move do you want to see–”

Yuta wraps an arm around your shoulders, shutting you up. “You’re a funny little thing, babe. Time to say bye.”

You wave defeatedly to your friends as Yuta leads you past the crowd of dancing people and out to his car parked outside. The ride to his place is surprisingly quick and quiet – he doesn’t turn on the radio, but you suppose you should be thankful because the rock music he would normally play would only make your headache worse.

“How much did you even drink tonight?” Yuta chides as he follows you into his apartment.

You shrug. “Um, not that much–”

“Bullshit.”

A smile tugs at your lips. ”Okay, fine. I don’t know – just, seven vodka shots,” you admit, but he keeps his gaze on you. “Ugh – and a few martinis, okay?”

Yuta shakes his head and turns to lock the door behind him. “The bartenders should have cut you off – all of you. I definitely would’ve.”

“That’s because you’re no fun!” you retort as you collapse onto the sofa – but the sudden swift motion makes you feel nauseous again, and you lay a hand over your face.

You hear a sigh, and suddenly Yuta’s hand is stretched out in front of you. “Hey, come on. Let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

You toe off your heels and gratefully take his hand. The familiar warmth returns, and you relish in the feeling as Yuta helps sit you down on his bed. You pay him no attention as he shuffles around the room and opens a few drawers. A minute later, you’re still fighting off your headache when he hands you a T-shirt, shorts and a towel. 

“I thought you should take a shower or something… it could help,” Yuta hesitates. His eyes flicker all over the room, and you wonder what he’s thinking of. “Um, there’s also a spare toothbrush in the cabinet. I’m going to see if we have any painkillers left.”

You reach for his arm. “Wait, do you have–”

“Saline solution? Yeah, it’s by the sink. I also have a case here somewhere,” Yuta releases himself from your grip. He heads towards his drawer and rummages around in it. “Ah, here you go.”

You take it gratefully. You’re about to open your mouth to speak, but Yuta leaves the room without another word, leaving you staring at the door in disappointment.

Sighing, you peel off your dress and enter his bathroom. The hot temperature feels absolutely heavenly and you’re not sure how long you were in there but when you step out, there’s a large glass of water and a painkiller on Yuta’s bedside table.

After putting on Yuta’s clothes and swallowing the pill, you’re about to leave the room to look for him when there’s a knock on the door. 

“You doing okay in there?” Yuta asks. “Can I come in?”

You open the door and he steps in.

“Just here to take a few things and I’ll leave you be,” he mumbles. You swear there’s a faint spray of pink on his cheeks when he lays his eyes on you – but since you’re not wearing glasses, you decide it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you.

Standing by the door, you could smell the sweet aroma of fresh coffee waft in.

“Did you make coffee? May I have some?” you ask hopefully. 

Yuta hums and shakes his head. “Absolutely not. Don’t want you any more dehydrated than you already are right now, darling,” he meets your eye. “Just finish that big glass of water I gave you.”

“You really are no fun,” you sigh in defeat, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “You’re forcing me to sober up so I can drive myself home or something?”

You’re half-joking, but Yuta knits his eyebrows together. “Y/N, it’s almost 2 in the morning. You’re not going anywhere. Just crash here and I’ll drive you home in the morning.”

You rise and brush your fingers against his. “Wait, Yuta. You really don’t mind that? I didn’t know what to tell my friends… I’m sorry for dragging you into this,” you apologise timidly.

In the quiet of the night, you’re suddenly aware of how close his face is to yours – and you look at him. Really look at him.  His face is bare, and there’s a cute little mole next to his nose that you’ve never seen before. His brown eyes, warm as ever, stare into yours, and your heart starts hammering in your chest.

Yuta squeezes your hand, and the sensation sends a jolt up your arm. The sudden grin on his face does little to help the flutter in your belly. “It’s all good, babe. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of my fake girlfriend?”

Something in you recoils at the word fake. It must be because you’re drunk – that’s the only explanation you can come up with at the moment. 

His eyes scan the walls of his bedroom, and his voice drops to a whisper when he looks back at you. “You should sleep here. I’ll take the couch,” he says as he reaches for the doorknob. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Yuta shuts the door behind him, leaving you with nothing but silence. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

A feeling tugs at you, and something about it lets you know that it won’t go away all that easily.

But it’s a problem for tomorrow. Shrugging it off for now, you reach for the glass of water on the bedside table and down it in three big gulps. You lay back against Yuta’s pillows. They smell like him, clean and incredibly comforting. The exhaustion of everything that’s happened that night finally weighs down on you, and you find yourself falling asleep soon after.

You’re feeling under the weather – or at least that’s the excuse you’re giving for skipping classes today.

You’re back in your own apartment, cuddling with Pumpkin on the couch. You’d informed your roommates earlier that you won’t be attending classes, and now there’s no one else in the apartment.

You’re scrolling through Instagram, trying to get your mind off the situation you found yourself in earlier this morning. Without your glasses, everything had quite literally been a blur when you woke up in an unfamiliar room, but it all hit you once you could make out the unmistakable shape of a guitar in the corner. 

Yuta wasn’t awake yet when you entered the living room – and you thanked your lucky stars for that. If he had caught a glimpse of you and your puffy, makeup-smudged face along with the dress from the night before that you could barely zip yourself into, it would've been absolutely mortifying. You don’t know how you managed to slip out the front door without stirring him, but as soon as you left his apartment you called Nayeon for a ride home.

Your best friend didn’t say a word when you’d slid into the passenger seat in your disheveled state, assuming you were too hungover to explain – and you were grateful Jisoo had already gone to campus when you’d arrived back home, for you were not in the mood to answer any awkward questions.

The doorbell rings.

“Pumpkin, could you get that for me?” you say idly, still scrolling on your phone. 

The orange cat doesn’t move a muscle, so you sigh and roll off the couch. When you open the door, the last person you expect to see is your fake boyfriend.

He’s dressed in a basic black T-shirt and skinny blue jeans, his red hair falling by his eyes and framing his face. You almost scream at how good he looks.

Before you can say anything, Yuta flashes you a blinding smile.

“Hey! Just wanted to check up on you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. The action is strangely out of character for him, but you can’t deny how cute it is. His expression softens. “Um, you left without saying anything and then I heard from Jennie that you’re skipping classes today. Is everything alright?”

Despite everything, you manage out a smile. “Oh, I’m… fine! I mean, still a little hungover… but fine.”

You stand there in the doorway, mind going blank. Yuta’s still smiling at you, waiting for you to continue, but when you stay quiet his gaze drops to the floor. You curse yourself because now the silence is much too deafening in your ears, but you have no idea if there’s anything more to say.

Yuta clears his throat. “Well, okay, I’ll get out of your h-”

“Hey, wait, um–” you grab his hand before he can turn away. “–thank you… for last night. And for checking up on me. You seriously didn’t have to do that. Like, you could’ve sent me a message or something.”

Yuta’s looking down at your intertwined hands, and when he looks back up at you, there's a smirk on his face. “Just making sure you didn’t get lost or fall on your face on the way home. Your friends would have my head on a platter if anything happened to you on my watch.”

You scoff, immediately letting his arm drop from your grasp. “I take my thanks back.”

Yuta grins. “It’s all good, babe. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

By the tone of his words, he sounds like he’s gearing up for a goodbye, and your thoughts are confirmed when he angles his body away, about to turn and leave.

But you don’t want that to happen. Not just yet. 

“Wait – do you wanna come in?” 

He pauses, then nods. You turn and lead him to the living room. Yuta sits himself in the seat adjacent to where your orange fur ball is still curled up, and surprisingly, he doesn’t growl. 

Pumpkin did not like him when they’d first met, the cat hissing at Yuta when he’d tried to pet him. 

“He doesn’t like the smell of fuckboys,” you had joked, to which Yuta gave you a glare. The cat made a point to growl whenever Yuta dared to come close again –  and again, the next few times he swung by your place, but that never deterred Yuta. 

“He’ll grow to like me, just like his mama did,” Yuta had declared with a wink, and you had rolled your eyes then. Yuta was never humble whenever it came to how well-liked he was by everyone. But his cocky remark seems to be proven now, when Yuta had given him a pat on the head and Pumpkin acknowledged him with a meow.

You fiddle with your thumbs. Now that you’ve invited him in, you’re not really sure what to do. Your idea for the day was to hide from the rest of the world (though if you were being honest, it was actually to hide from the very man that’s in front of you right now), but that was thrown out the window the second he showed up at your door.

“So, um… did you have any plans for today?”

You hope it’s a good conversation starter, because it’s all you can come up with at the moment. 

Yuta leans back in the seat, folding his arms and placing them behind his head. “I was going to go to a cafe and study there,” he shrugs. “And I was going to ask if you could come with me, if you’re up to it.”

“Come with you? What for?”

The smirk is back on his face. “So we can make good on our deal and finally take that selfie.”

You’re left speechless, and you must’ve taken too long to respond because Yuta frowns.

“If you’re not up to it, it’s fine. It was just a suggestion. Are you still sick? I should c–”

“No!” you interrupt his flurry of words, but the word sounded much sharper than you intended. You try to lighten the atmosphere with a laugh. “No, sorry, that sounds great. I just–” you look down at your worn out shirt and shorts, “–need to get dressed. Could you give me a minute?”

Twenty minutes later, you’re waiting for Yuta to come back with your drinks, sitting in a small booth in your favourite coffee shop. You hadn’t paid much attention to anything when you’d left your dorm, because on the ride over, your mind was on one thing and one thing only. 

The selfie.

You haven’t forgotten about it – in fact, it hasn’t left your mind, as the mere idea of posting a picture with Yuta on Instagram makes your brain short circuit. Especially when he insists that the two of you should pose like an affectionate couple. Plus, you were definitely against it when he first suggested it, but now the idea doesn’t sound so bad after all.

“Here you go,” Yuta flashes you a smile as he sets down your latte on the table. He’s holding a coffee of his own, and you raise an eyebrow skeptically when he slides into the booth next to you. 

“Didn’t you have coffee last night as well? Who even drinks coffee at that hour?” you ask him teasingly.

Yuta lets out a nervous chuckle, his hand finding the back of his neck. “Actually, coffee at night makes me sleepy. It’s weird, I know.”

You shrug and take a sip of your latte and sigh in contentment, shoulders relaxing as the sweetness of the drink warms something in your chest. You turn to Yuta with a smile.

“Y’know, I’ve been craving this ever since I got a whiff of what you made last night,” you confess. “Next time I drop by, you should show me your mix and brew me some.”

Yuta hums in agreement, then his eyes widen in recollection. “Oh actually, before I forget,” he reaches in his pocket before holding out the contact lens case you had used the night before. “You left this behind.”

“Oh… thanks,” you say sheepishly as you take it and put it in your purse. 

In your rush to leave this morning, you know you must have forgotten something as trivial as that. But the whole fiasco of sleeping over at Yuta's is really something you’d rather not remember right now. Or ever.

There’s something else you're curious about, so you shoot him a glance. “By the way, why do you have a lens case and saline solution? You don't wear contacts, do you?”

Yuta’s expression remains neutral, but for some reason he’s avoiding your gaze. “Well, actually… they belong to Johnny. I don’t know how his stuff got in my room.”

That would explain it – though you weren't aware that Johnny wore contacts. In high school, all you remember about him was that he was the star basketball player that the girls fawned over, not someone who would ever read enough books that he'd eventually need glasses to help with his vision – but you suppose after years of late night studying, any college student’s eyesight will get worse.

Before you can question him about it further, Yuta clears his throat and grins. “So, can we finally take that selfie, baby?”

“Yes, um…” you say hesitantly, your eyes dropping to the table. “So, how exactly are we going to do this?”

It’s not that you aren’t ready for it – in fact, you’ve decided that the selfie is a great idea – but your mind is still racking for poses the two of you could do. 

Yuta lays his hand over yours. “If you’re uncomfortable with it, let me know and we don’t have to do it,” he tells you before breaking out into a grin. “But I do have the perfect pose.”

You look at him questioningly. “What is it?”

With your glasses back on your face, you can clearly see a faint blush on his cheeks when he announces, “I smile at the camera while you kiss me,” he angles his face away and taps his cheek. “Here.”

You stare at him for a few beats, letting the words sink in. “Can’t it be the other way around?” you eventually reply, laughing nervously.

“Do you want it to be?” he asks you, tilting his head and he takes a sip of his coffee. “Because I don’t mind either way.”

You bite your lip in contemplation, Yuta still looking at you in curiosity. You let out a breath. “Um, why don’t we try both poses and you decide which one is best?”

“Sounds good to me,” Yuta replies, the grin easily making its way back to his face. He slides out his phone from his pocket and opens up the camera app.

“You ready?” he asks, putting the camera in selfie mode, and you nod. Yuta’s still sporting his big grin as he stares into the camera, and you pucker up your lips to kiss him.

You close your eyes and lean in. His skin is unbelievably soft when your lips touch his cheek, and you’re taken aback by his cologne hitting your senses. You hear the camera go off a few times, but it barely registers. When you pull away, you find that your breath is unsteady. 

“Perfect,” Yuta chuckles as he readies himself for the other pose. “You good for the next one?”

“Just–” you suck in a breath and shake your head. “Give me a second.”

You’re dizzy. The air feels thick, and you’re unable to think about anything except for his cologne. You clear your throat and manage to meet his gaze.

His smile falters into a look of concern, and something about it makes your heart flutter. “Y/N, if you’re not comf–”

“No,” you cut him off gently, taking his hand in yours and squeezing reassuringly. Your grip is steady, despite the thundering behind your ribcage. “I’m okay, honestly.”

Relief washes over his face, and Yuta hands you his phone with a smile. “Alright babe, your call.”

You put the camera in front of your face, ready to smile. 

You’re expecting a quick kiss – something sweet and brief, but what you don’t expect is Yuta’s hand finding the back of your neck. Goosebumps rise on your arms at the sudden contact, and your breath catches.

Then he leans in.

Yuta’s lips touch your cheek, the tips of his hair tickling the side of your face, and your heart’s beating so loud in your ears that you’re convinced Yuta could feel it with his grip on your skin. You close your eyes and melt into him. For a moment, it’s just you and him against the world.

“Um, Y/N, the camera…” Yuta’s breath is hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Oh, uh–” your voice comes out breathless and you almost scream at how embarrassing you sound. “–right.” 

Somehow, you’re able to move your hands and the shutter clicks a few more times. Yuta’s kissing you again, and you smile, his touch and his cologne enveloping your senses.

When Yuta finally pulls away, you brush your fingers to where his lips had been on your cheek. Your face is embarrassingly hot at this point, and you silently hope that Yuta wouldn’t notice. You run your hands down your arms in an attempt to steady your heartbeat – but it’s useless. Your heart is still beating erratically.

Yuta flashes you a smile as you give his phone back, your hands all jittery. But if he does notice it, he doesn’t let on. “Awesome,” he breathes as he swipes through the photos. “Do you want to take more pics with different poses or do you think this is enough?”

“I think that’s enough,” you blurt out a little too quickly. You curse under your breath before clearing your throat. The truth is, you don’t know if you could go through with taking more couple photos with Yuta without possibly passing out. You force yourself to speak again, though it comes out tighter than intended. “Um, so which one do you think is the best?”

Yuta sets his phone down and shakes a finger. “Ah-ah, you’ll just have to see it with everyone else when I post it later tonight,” he smiles, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Gotta surprise you a little bit, or else where’s the fun in that?”

You want to argue with him. Usually, you would – but your mind is still clouded by what happened moments earlier. 

All you can manage out is a quiet, “Just… make sure I look good.”

Yuta’s about to take a sip of his coffee when he smiles at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “Darling, you always look good.”

There’s something wrong with you.

You’re lying on your bed, eyes directed at the ceiling. Everything is quiet – the whirring of the fan overhead, Pumpkin purring beside you, the low rumble of voices coming from the other side of the wall – but it all pales in comparison to the persistent pounding in your chest.

It’s been hours since you left the cafe and Yuta had dropped you home, but since then, your mind hasn’t stopped replaying everything that’s happened.

You let out a groan, breaking the silence that blanketed the room. Pumpkin stirs from his sleepy posture, so you absentmindedly stroke his fur in apology. You roll to lay on your side and reach for your phone.

There’s nothing yet, so you set it back down.

You’ve been checking Instagram every few minutes – not obsessively, exactly (though if you were being honest, this might be the tenth time you’ve refreshed your feed) – but enough times that you’ve been disappointed with the lack of any new posts from a certain someone.

Between the regular Instagram checks, you’ve been huddled on your bed surrounded by pillows, staring at nothing in particular. You know your roommates have been home for quite some time now, but you had no energy to speak to them from the moment you got home.

When your phone pings, you hate how your heart jumps at the sound. You sit up, unlock your phone and see that you have a new notification.

yuu_taa_1026 tagged you in a post.

When you click on the post and the photo finally loads, you gasp.

He had chosen the second one – the one where he’s kissing you.

Your eyes are closed in the picture, an open-mouthed smile gracing your lips. He’s also smiling into the kiss, a real, genuine smile that’s a stark contrast to his usual cocky smirk. His caption is only two words, but it sends a flush of warmth throughout your body.

yuu_taa_1026: My gorgeous 🖤

A bittersweet feeling tugs at your chest and you bury your head in your hands. You don’t know why you’re feeling this way – and you sure as hell know that you shouldn’t be feeling anything.

Not over fucking Nakamoto Yuta, of all people. 

You still remember the words he had uttered when he proposed this fake relationship to you a few weeks ago. It replays over and over in your head – like some sick mantra.

I’m not looking for an actual relationship right now.

You throw your phone across the bed.

It means nothing to him. You know that, he knows that. It’s the exact reason why he came to you – so that nothing would be complicated.

But the way he looked at you after taking the photos didn’t feel fake – and the way your pulse still races just thinking about it doesn’t feel like pretend. You can still feel the way he touched you – the sensation of his hand searing into the back of your neck, the ghost of his lips still lingering on your skin, as if it had just happened just moments ago.

It’s still imprinted in your mind, the way the word darling had fallen from his lips, as if he’d called you that nickname for all of his life. And you can’t deny how the mere sight of his smile made you feel as though the sun shone from right inside you.

You let out another groan. This can’t be happening.

There’s a knock on your door, and you mumble out, “Come in.”

Both of your roommates stride in at your response. Jisoo doesn’t spare you a glance and heads straight for your closet like she usually does. Nayeon, however, sends you a look and takes a seat next to you.

“Are you okay?” your best friend asks as she looks down at you, her face threaded in concern.

“No,” you groan.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jisoo muses, sorting through your clothes. She phrases it more like a sentence than a question, but you decide to answer anyway.

“Nothing,” you murmur, laying a hand over your face. You rack your brain for an appropriate excuse. “I think I’m just stressed about finals.”

Nayeon raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say a word. Jisoo clicks her tongue, and you get a sense of what she’s about to suggest.

“Then let’s go out. Our senior Seulgi is throwing a party at her house tonight.”

Ah, like clockwork.

Nayeon opens her mouth to respond, but you beat her to it. “I’m not in the mood to fraternise right now,” you say icily.

Jisoo gasps, finally turning to face you and you see she’s got a hand over her heart. “Y/N! You know me better than that,” she scolds, and there’s no mistaking the irony in her voice. “Come on – no frat boys tonight. Just us girls, and lots and lots of booze.”

You shudder to think about drinking again as you’re still recovering from the sheer amount of alcohol you had consumed just last night, and you also wonder how Jisoo could suggest such a thing – considering the night before, she had as many drinks as you did, if not more.

Nayeon seems to read your thoughts, and she pats your arm gently. “I think we should go. To blow off some steam before the exams,” she whispers to you. “Take your mind off… everything.”

You suppose the buzz would be a welcome distraction from what you’re feeling right now – plus, Jisoo’s already holding up the perfect outfit for you to wear.

You smile.

“When do we leave?”

You fully believe that the universe hates you, because the second you step into Seulgi’s house, you spot an unmistakable mop of bright red hair amidst the small crowd in the lounge area.

You swallow your groan and duck into the kitchen, where Nayeon and Jisoo are greeting your seniors. After exchanging hellos with Seulgi and her friends, they give you the cups in their hands, mumbling something about how the punch may have already been spiked with something strong and they wanted the three of you to taste the punch in its purest form.

(Though you definitely wouldn’t have minded if the drinks did contain alcohol, as that is exactly what you want right now – but you don’t tell them that.)

You find yourself perched on the kitchen island minutes later, drink in hand as Nayeon sits across from you. Boxes are scattered around the kitchen, and you can see in an already-opened box that there are bottles of whiskey inside them. 

“Are you feeling better?” your best friend questions, eyeing you up and down.

The skirt you’re wearing is a little short and the breeze from outside causes goosebumps to travel down your legs, but you let out a nonchalant shrug.

“Yes,” you affirm, taking another sip of your drink. “Told you, I’m just stressed about finals.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on her lips.“You sure? It’s not because you’re stressed about someone…” she tilts her head, “someone who just happens to be in the next room?”

You freeze.

“You saw him too?” is all you can say, unable to meet her eyes.

“He’s kinda hard to miss,” Nayeon grins. And it’s true. You could spot Yuta’s red hair from a mile away.

You don’t say anything, not even when Nayeon sets her drink down and shuffles to get closer to you. You keep silent when she takes your hands, and she squeezes them comfortingly.

“Listen. I don’t fully know what’s going on,” Nayeon admits. “But whatever it is, you have to talk to him about it. Nothing good ever comes from keeping your feelings hidden.”

The second the words fall from her lips, the weight on your chest that hasn’t disappeared since this morning suddenly feels like it’s been lifted. Somehow, your best friend always knows the exact thing to say.

You squeeze her hands back and smile at her – a genuine, real smile. “I know. Thanks, Yeon.”

You sit there in silence for a few moments, hands still clasped together – that is until a couple of loud shouts echo from the hallway. A minute later, a disheveled senior pokes her head around the corner, a look of irritation on her face.  

“Can one of you come and help me? Jisoo’s locked herself in the bathroom and she’s crying or something, and she said she will only talk to one of you.”

“Oh God, that girl – I’ll take care of it,” Nayeon lets out a practiced sigh. She sends you a skeptical glance. “Will you–”

“Just go, I’m fine,” you wave a hand dismissively, and when Nayeon disappears with the senior, you take up one of the bottles of whiskey from the opened box. Unscrewing the cap and bringing it to your lips, you relish the strange sense of relief when the liquor runs down your throat.

You don’t know how long you sit there as the thud of music booms through the kitchen wall, but after you’ve finished downing two bottles, you decide to head towards the lounge. 

You’re definitely drunk now – you feel the buzz as you move your hips sway to the beat, and your mind is no longer focusing on things that you don’t want to think about right now. 

“Hey cutie, mind if I dance with you?”

You turn at the unfamiliar voice and find a stranger smirking at you. There’s a hungry look in his eyes that immediately makes you feel uneasy. Right on instinct, you take a step back and open your mouth to decline, but before you can say anything, a voice cuts in. “She has a boyfriend.”

Yuta’s standing beside you, a cold look on his face as he stares down the stranger. His normally warm eyes are now steely and sharp, and it sends a reckless thrill through you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, to which you grab his hand in gratitude. 

The stranger lets out a scoff and spares you a glance. “When you get bored of him, gorgeous, come find me.”

He retreats into the crowd, though Yuta doesn’t stop glaring daggers at him until he’s fully out of sight. Once it’s just the two of you, Yuta lets out a sigh and shoots you a worried glance. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice rougher than usual. You take both his hands and place them on your waist, while you wrap your hands around his neck, fingers brushing his nape.

You don’t reply, instead you say, “Let’s dance.”

At your request, Yuta smiles and starts swaying you back and forth to the rhythm. You take the opportunity to check him out. He’s wearing a plain white tee, dark ripped jeans and your favourite leather jacket, a silver chain necklace dangling from his neck. His red hair is left unstyled, just the way you like it – and when you gaze into his eyes, you realise he’s put on dark eyeliner.

He looks effortless, yet so fucking attractive.

You let out a sigh. “Gotta be honest, I didn’t think you’d be here.”

Yuta shrugs. “Neither did I, but… Johnny convinced me to let loose one last time before finals.” 

The smell of alcohol is strong from his breath, and because of the proximity, you wonder if he could smell the whiskey in your breath too.

“Johnny knows Seulgi?” 

“Johnny knows everyone.”

There’s a twinkle in his eye and he’s giving you such a toothy smile that you can’t help but look at him curiously.

“What?”

Yuta’s eyes scan your face and then your outfit, and for a moment you’re not sure if he’s going to answer you – but then he lets out a chuckle. “Nothing, it’s just… what I said earlier. I was right.”

“About what?”

Yuta bites his lip. “About how you always look good.”

Your pulse starts racing.

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the music or the dark lighting of the room that makes Yuta look so dangerously tempting.

All you know is that you really want to kiss him.

He’s still looking at you, something unreadable in his eyes. Your eyes drop to his mouth, and when you lick your lips in anticipation, you could see his face falter. 

Yuta looks away, clearing his throat. 

“Yuta,” you call, your voice finding its vitality. He looks at you again, but now you recognise what’s in his eyes. Doubt.

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

You lean in towards him, slowly – and to your satisfaction, his breath shudders against your neck. 

“I think you looked insanely hot when you got jealous just now,” you admit quietly, and he lets out a groan that makes you weak in the knees. “So hot – that I really wanted you to kiss me.”

“Really?” Yuta’s voice is dangerously low now, igniting a fire in your belly. He squeezes your waist and his touch only makes you want him more – but he’s still hesitating. There's a question in his eyes, as if he’s silently asking you if he should hold back. 

You don’t want him to hold back. Not anymore.

You grab his collar in desperation. “Just kiss me, please,” you almost moan, and he crashes his lips against yours.

It’s electrifying how fervently Yuta kisses you, his hands finding your jaw and his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as your mouths move in sync. The kiss is messy, desperate – and when you tug at the roots of his hair, the moan that he emits into your mouth leaves you aching in desire. The crowd blurs around you and everything fades.

Until the catcalls and wolf whistles are too loud to ignore – and then Yuta finally pulls away from you.

“Upstairs?” he mumbles breathlessly, foreheads pressed together as you both are panting heavily. Your heartbeat’s thundering and you can’t come up with any words, so you just nod, trailing behind him as he laces your fingers together and pulls you through the crowd and up the stairs.

Yuta pushes open the first door he finds and the two of you are barely inside the room when he’s kissing you again, his hands roaming your body with urgency. You pull away to take the jacket of his body and toss it onto the floor, before he leads you to the bed.

“You have no idea how fucking bad I want you,” he hisses, leaning down so he can kiss you again. It’s more intense than before, and when Yuta palms your clothed breast and you let out your first moan, he growls.

“Fuck, you drive me insane,” he mutters, lips leaving yours to kiss your jaw, and then your neck, and then his kisses trail lower and lower until his hands find the waistband of your panties. It’s there that his motions stop – and Yuta looks up at you, eyes dark and lips parted.

“Do you want this, baby?” he asks softly, his chest puffing up and down from shallow breaths.

“Stop talking,” you groan, pushing his head down to where you need him most. It’s all the permission he needs, so he swiftly pulls down your panties and tosses them aside. Yuta pushes your skirt up and you gasp at cold air hitting your core, but it’s immediately replaced by the warmth of his touch.

Yuta places his hands on your knees for leverage, and then he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. Your breath catches with each kiss from him – all of them slow and teasing that you’re left squirming and whining under his grip. 

You let out a soft cry when he finally puts his mouth on you, and the first stroke of his tongue sends you to heaven. You need something to ground you down, so your hands find his hair, and when Yuta hears the sounds that you’re no longer holding back, he lets out another growl and squeezes your thighs.

“You taste so sweet,” Yuta grunts, and the vibrations of his voice send sparks up your spine.

You moan in response, unable to form a coherent sentence. Yuta is reaching all the right places that you swear that you’re seeing stars. His mouth is hot, sucking gently and then changing rhythms until your legs are trembling with every flick on his tongue. Your moans grow even louder when he adds his fingers into you, scissoring you open.

Yuta’s grip has you paralysed, and you’re unable to move – but you feel your high coming on any moment, so you whine and pull at his hair as a warning.

“Mm, gonna come for me, baby?” he groans appreciatively, one hand reaching up to fondle your breast and the other now rubbing circles on your clit in just the right way. “Come like the good fucking girl you are.”

The overwhelming new sensations combined with Yuta’s encouraging praise send you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you like a wave. You can only moan in pleasure as you tug at Yuta’s hair for your dear life, all while he continues the motions against your core.

You’re still breathing heavily as the last remnants of your orgasm leaves your body. After getting up from his kneeling position, Yuta moves up the bed to be face to face with you, supporting his body weight by putting his arms by each side of your head and seizing all of your attention.

“Good?” he mumbles, his voice so impossibly deep that goosebumps rise on your skin. He leans down to kiss you and you taste your essence on his lips. You moan, gripping his arm with desire.

“Good,” you whisper, and you feel him smile into the kiss. His mouth then leaves yours to move further down, now leaving a trail of kisses along your jawline.

“Can my girl take a little more?” 

Though you’re still trying to catch your breath and your legs are still trembling, you can’t deny how fucking tempting Yuta looks on top of you. His red hair is all mussed courtesy of your fingers, his eyes darkened with lust and his plump lips glossy from giving you the best head you’ve ever had in your life. God, he is absolutely ethereal.

And you need him. 

All of him.

You grip the chain of his necklace and pull him close to you again.

“I need you, Yuta.”

Satisfied with your answer, he pulls you in for another messy kiss. While he nips at your bottom lip, begging for entrance, you guide his hands to the hem of your shirt. You could sense his hard-on pressing against your tummy, the sheer weight of it against your body making you shudder in anticipation. You tug at his sleeves, desperately wanting to feel his skin on yours now.

But Yuta’s not done teasing you yet. His hands stay on your waist, gripping firmly. He pulls away from the kiss and before you can complain, he ruts his clothed knee against your still-sensitive cunt. You gasp at the unexpected friction.

“Fuck, Yuta,” you moan shamelessly, curling a hand over his bicep. “Just fuck me, please!”

His fingers rest at the hem of your shirt when his eyes meet yours. You’re expecting him to rip all your clothes away now and finally give you what you’ve been craving from the moment he had kissed you in the dim light of that lounge room.

Without warning, he abruptly removes himself from you, muttering under his breath, “Shit.”

He scrambles to back away from you, getting off the bed and running a hand through his hair as he starts pacing around the room.

You look at Yuta in alarm. Your body is immediately exposed to the chilly air at the loss of contact, so you use the pillow next to you in an attempt to warm yourself up. The atmosphere of the room has changed so quickly in just a split second that you don't know what to think.

“Wh–what’s wrong?” you question anxiously. You can’t deny that your mind is still fuzzy from his touch, but any feelings of arousal you had fades away when you see the worried look on his face.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Yuta groans lowly, burying his hands in his hair. You’re not really sure what he’s sorry for, but you’re also too afraid to ask. He stands rigid in the middle of the room for a few seconds before heaving a sigh and moving to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Listen, uh, I’m sorry,” he starts, though he’s unable to look at you properly. He tugs at the roots of his already messy hair. “It’s just – we’re both kind of fucked up right now. We… we shouldn’t be doing this, Y/N.”

Your heart shatters.

“Are you alright?” he’s looking at you now, eyes wide with concern. His lips are swollen from how intensely he had kissed you, the bulge in his pants still apparent. You would’ve laughed at how comical he looked if you didn't feel as though someone just punched you in the stomach.

Yuta lets out a breath. “I just th-”

“No, I get it,” you interrupt.

It takes you a moment to get up from the bed, and you pick up your underwear that was carelessly tossed onto the floor by Yuta moments earlier. You quickly put them on, ignoring how uncomfortable you feel with your arousal still dripping from you, before turning to him. 

“It’s okay, Yuta.”

Yuta’s expression shifts. “Really?”

You��re well aware of the amount of drinks you had consumed earlier in the night, but you feel more sober than you have ever been before. The alcohol in your system may have clouded your judgement and actions before this, but now you can see it. 

You can see it all, clear as day – like a revelation that’s been in front of you all along.

“It’s my fault,” you start, and despite the lump in your throat, your voice comes out steady. Tears are threatening to spill from your eyes, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he made you cry. 

You would die before letting him know how much pain he’s caused you. 

You give a dismissive shrug. “I don’t know why I thought that you could… ever look at me like that. Then and now.”

You should have seen this coming. It stings, how you let yourself believe that there was a real chance that Yuta had genuine feelings for you.

How naïve you’ve been.

Yuta’s eyes widen when your words sink in. “No, Y/N, I-”

“I get it now. Things never change, do they?”

There’s dismay written all over his face, but you’re sure whatever he’s feeling pales in comparison to the knife in your chest. You knew this, you predicted this – nothing good ever comes from being tangled in Nakamoto Yuta's business. Yet here you are, standing in front of him with the last shreds of your dignity, body trembling from the sobs that threaten to spill. The room is suddenly spinning, and you wish that the floor would just crumble from underneath you and swallow you whole.

“Listen, Y/N-”

“Have a good night, Yuta.”

You ignore his protests as you close the door behind you. You wait until you’ve rushed down the stairs, past through the sweaty bodies in the living room and out of Seulgi’s house before you finally let your sobs tear through the night.

You can’t believe you let it happen again.

You were thirteen years old when Nakamoto Yuta first broke your heart.

He had been your first crush, and though every other girl seemed to fawn over the drop-dead gorgeous Taeyong and the confident Johnny, you had always been attracted to the studious and quiet Yuta.

His hair had been jet black then, and was a little longer than what the school rules probably allowed it to be. It curled a little over his ears and his fringe almost reached into his eyes every time you stole glances of him poring over his notes in class. Despite how he was the model student, always obedient to the teachers and focusing intently during lessons, you liked that there was still a small part of him that allowed himself to rebel.

“That guy? Really? He looks so grumpy and he doesn’t even talk to anyone,” your friends had said, affirming your suspicions that they thought it was just a silly infatuation.

And perhaps it was true – anyone would think that Yuta was aloof given how he never spared anyone much of a glance during lessons, or how he mostly spent lunchtime alone in the cafeteria.

But what your friends weren’t aware of was that Yuta had, in fact, spoken to you before.

One evening, you had gone cycling a few blocks away from home when you accidentally crashed onto the mailbox of one of the houses. You let out a cry of pain first – and then the anxiety kicked in, because your own house suddenly seemed so far away and you weren’t sure if you could walk all the way home.

As if the heavens heard your prayers, a boy of your age walked out of the house, immediately running to you in concern and asking if you were alright. 

You recognised him. He was the strange boy at school that never seemed to do anything outside of his studies. Despite the fact that your knee was scratched and blood was running down your leg, all you could focus on was how freaking cute he really was when you looked at him closely.

He helped you get off the ground, supporting you all the way into the house where he asked his mother to help you clean up the injury. The second you were bandaged up and told him you were completely fine, his worry melted away – and then he flashed you a smile and held out his hand, introducing himself as Yuta.

You ignore the fact that you already knew his name, too mesmerised by how blinding his smile was. Somehow, you were able to shake his hand and you introduced yourself – and the next few hours were spent watching reruns of Mr Bean while finishing cans of Dr Pepper. As the sun dipped low and you mounted your bike, you thanked him for the evening and promised that you now owe him one.

You tucked that memory down deep in your heart, a precious little secret that’s just known to you. You didn’t care that everyone else thought he was unapproachable because of the serious face he put on during class – all you knew now was that he could smile, and his smile was the prettiest thing you’d ever seen.

You were quite content to admire Yuta from afar and only speaking to him on occasion, fully knowing how important his studies were to him – because they were just as important to you too. But the stories of your peers asking their fellow classmates kept coming – and you couldn’t deny that the concept of going on a date intrigued you.

Months passed, and there was still no sign of Yuta going out with anyone. He was a little different now – he’d gotten a haircut, his social circle was growing and he started hanging out with more of the guys – but your crush on him was still going strong. 

It was on a Friday afternoon that you gathered the courage to finally ask him to go out with you. 

“Hey Yuta,” you greeted, smiling shyly. The locker area was crowded with your schoolmates and two of his friends were by his side, but you were determined to not let that bother you.

Yuta spared you a glance and closed his locker, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Oh, hey.”

“Um…” you started, suddenly aware of the number of eyes on you. Whatever. You can do this. “I was wondering if you wanna… go out with me this weekend? We could go to the cinema, and… I don’t know, you can pick the movie.”

The boys flanking Yuta let out snickers and gasps were heard from all around you, to which you begrudgingly ignored.

But you took one look at Yuta and everything else faded away.

There was a frown on his face.

“Go out with you?” Yuta asked incredulously, like he was wondering why you would ever dare to ask him such a question. He eyed you up and down, and suddenly you felt very small under his gaze. “I don’t even know you.”

Your heart dropped to your feet and everything went silent.

You’re never been rejected before, but the stories you heard from your friends felt extremely tangible to you now. Yuta, a boy you thought was an absolute sweetheart, just rejected and humiliated you in public.

There was laughter. The rest of the world became clear again, and you heard it now, loud and distinct – everyone around you was laughing.

At you.

Tears stung your eyes but you blinked them back. You didn’t know how you found your voice, but you were somehow able to squeak out, “Oh! That’s okay, um, see you around then.”

You turned on your heel and ran out, but the sound of everyone laughing at your mortification, the sneers of his friends, the words of Yuta’s rejection still echoed in your head.

It echoed until you reached home and curled under your blanket, crying silently until you were all dried out.

It echoed for days, even when you decided to skip school for the next week because you knew everyone would just stare and whisper.

And that’s when you vowed to yourself: you would never, ever let Nakamoto Yuta hurt you again.

Nayeon hovers in the doorway, a pensive look on her face. “There’s someone here for you.”

You’re bent over a textbook, pretending to read a paragraph even though your brain hasn’t been processing any of the words on the page. The coffee you’d consumed earlier hasn’t helped much either.

You get up from your seat without a word, brushing past Nayeon and making your way into the living room. You feel her trailing behind you, and when you’re in the living room and reaching for the doorknob, Nayeon grabs your arm.

You turn to face her. There’s no mistaking the worry on her face, so you send her a tired smile and say, “It’s okay – I got it from here. Thanks.”

Nayeon squeezes your arm as a silent assurance. With that, she heads into her own room.

You push open the door and Yuta’s leaning against the wall, hands buried deep in his pockets. He doesn’t look good – though to be fair, you’re certain that you don’t look any better than he does. The cocky expression he usually wears is gone, aggravated by the heavy bags under his eyes. His red hair is even messier than normal.

You’ve never seen him like this before. 

If you were being honest, you’d thought that some sick, twisted part of you would find a little satisfaction of seeing him all tired and hollow – but the sight of him like this only tightened the ache in your chest.

“Hey,” Yuta greets quietly, eyes devoid of its usual flare or humour. “I didn’t know if I should come, but… I didn’t want to leave things like that.”

You don’t say anything, still gripping the edge of the door. 

You knew it was coming. You were expecting Yuta to show up at your door. 

But the events of last night are still fresh in your mind. The pain and the rejection felt all too familiar – and all the heartache Yuta has caused you came crashing down into you once more, like a thousand knives in your chest. 

You knew for a fact that Yuta would come to you eventually, but what you don’t know if you’re ready to accept what he’s going to say. You almost feel like slamming the door in his face and telling him to get lost, and that you never want to see him again.

Despite it all, Nayeon’s words echo in your head.

Nothing good ever comes from keeping your feelings hidden.

So you stay put.

But Yuta doesn’t meet your gaze. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he lets out a breath. “Not for stopping us last night. I – I think I was right to do that. I mean, we were drunk, and we weren’t in the right place… especially because… of our history.”

Your throat runs dry. 

He finally meets your eyes, and you know that emotion blazing in his eyes all too well.

Longing. 

“It’s not an excuse, but… I was a stupid kid,” his nostrils are flared, and he runs a hand through his hair. “I felt like the odd one out back then, so I did it because I thought it would make me look cool.” 

You could see it now – the quiet, nerdy little Yuta earning validation from his friends for breaking a girl’s heart. And you almost laugh at the thought.

“I wanted to apologise to you, I swear. But you had already written me off by then, and – I couldn’t blame you for that,” Yuta shrugs like it’s nothing, but there’s a bitterness in his tone. “And it’s so, so stupid, but after that I couldn't stop thinking about you.” 

Yuta takes a step towards you, and your heart begins hammering in your chest. 

“I saw you. Everywhere. Every time I turned on the TV, there was a rerun of Mr Bean. Whenever someone was riding their bike in front of my house, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Fuck, I couldn’t even drink sodas without remembering the Dr Pepper we had! And when my vision started to get worse, all I could think of was how you must’ve felt every time I made fun of you for wearing glasses.”

Yuta’s face is just inches away from yours. 

You can’t breathe. You don’t know if you ever knew how to.

Your heart nearly stops when he takes your hands, but you let him intertwine your fingers with his.

“Y/N, I – I’m not expecting you to forgive me or anything. I hurt you. I know I did. But I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry,” Yuta sighs, his eyes finally landing on your face – and when it does, his voice cracks a little. “And if you let me have another chance, I’ll show you just how much you mean to me – for real this time.”

You don’t know how long you’ve been holding your breath, but you finally let it out. You keep your gaze on him – his eyes are full of pain and anguish, but you feel something.

It's a small part of you, beginning to heal.

Neither of you speak for a while, only letting Yuta’s apology soak in the silence. 

Until finally, you lean in, resting your forehead against his – and even after everything, there’s still the familiar warmth in Yuta’s touch, ever present and comforting.

“Yuta, I really appreciate you saying that,” you breathe out, and when Yuta’s eyes light up, you almost don’t want to go on with what you’re about to say next. You know you have to push through – even if it means that it’ll disappoint him. “But… it’s still too early. I – finals are coming up and I can't think about this right now and – and I just need some time.”

“All the time you need,” Yuta whispers, his breath hot against your face. He squeezes your hands – and it feels like a promise. “Whenever you’re ready, just know I’ll be waiting for you.”

When he pulls away, he’s wearing a smile – it’s a little weary, but you could see the light slowly returning to his eyes.

“See you around, Y/N.”

You watch his figure retreat down the hallway and disappear.

And for the first time since last night, you have a tiny inkling that everything will be alright.

Your life’s been quiet ever since finals ended.

Even though it’s now common knowledge between your friends that you don’t really have anyone to occupy your time, you’re still surprised that none of them have been pestering you to go out as they usually would.

Campus has quieted too – the frantic energy of everyone facing the pressure of their studies is long gone. With the early days of summer rolling in, the atmosphere feels warm and comfortable. 

Besides a text that you never sent and a couple of shared glances at the library, you haven’t spoken to Yuta since that day outside of your dorm – but his apology still lingers at the back of your mind, along with his promise to wait for you.

When Johnny told you earlier that he had been hanging out with Taeyong (read: around the music building), you had a vague idea of where he would be. There’s a little bench next to the building overlooking the campus gardens, perfect for a little peace and quiet – and that’s exactly where you find Yuta.

He doesn’t notice you approach at first, too focused on the view before him. There’s a guitar case by his feet, and you silently remind yourself to ask him to play a song for you one day.

“Yuta,” you call out gently.

At the sound of your voice, Yuta looks up at you, a twinkle in his eyes. “Well, well, look who survived the academic tornado.”

His tone is teasing, light-hearted, and you feel your knot in your stomach melt away already. You take the seat next to him. “Just barely, but yeah. I’m officially free now,” you declare. “And I’ve been thinking.”

He doesn’t say a word, staring at you intently. Your tone wasn’t hostile at all, but there’s still the uncertainty of what you’re about to say – and you can see it weighing on him, the caution in his eyes and the carefulness of his actions.

You take a deep breath and exhale. “That day – you were right. You did hurt me. And I hated you for it. I promised myself that I would never let you do it again – so I completely cut you off. I convinced myself that you were the monster that I wanted you to be,” you admit, sparing a glance at him. Before you realise, mirth seeps into your words. “God, it was frustrating, because I still had to see you all throughout middle school and high school – and when we graduated and I thought I was finally free of you, somehow we still ended up at the same college.”

Yuta chuckles, light and slow, and the sound sparks something in your chest.

But you're not done speaking yet.

“Maybe I did hate you at first. But I think over the years, it just turned into annoyance – especially when we started fighting for the top spot in class and you started calling me Glasses.”

You fiddle with your thumbs. You’re grateful that Yuta hasn’t interrupted to say anything yet, because you’re still untangling the thoughts in your head.

“Still, after all those years of convincing myself and everyone else that I hated you, I don’t know if I can just take that all away so quickly,” you confess, and take his hand. Slowly, but surely – a smile starts to form on his face. “But I’m ready to give you a chance, Yuta. I’m willing to try, if you are.”

Yuta's fully grinning now, and he brings your hand up to his face to plant a kiss. The brush of his lips against your skin sends butterflies through your stomach. “I am,” he vows. “More than anything.”

And your heart soars. 

You really want to kiss him again.

So you lean in – and Yuta’s face is flushed in pink when you place a kiss on his cheek. Your hand is still clasped in his, but you don’t let go. You don’t want to.

“So…” Yuta begins, tilting his head. His eyes are alight now, and it sends a warm flush through you. “Will you go on a date with me tonight? A real one this time?”

“Yes… on one condition.”

“Anything,” he says, squeezing your hand.

“No fancy dinners or anything like that, please,” you assert, and when you see the curiosity in his face, you let out a laugh. “Let’s just… take it slow.”

“Slow,” Yuta repeats, then slowly raises an eyebrow. “Unless I tell you that I’m willing to take my shirt off right now?”

You roll your eyes, nudging him in the shoulder. “Don’t push it, Nakamoto.”

He grins at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the most adorable way. You sigh in contentment and pull him close, wrapping your arms around him as he melts into your embrace.

You don't know what the future holds, but you’re certain that in this moment, you're content to sit and enjoy the pretty view, holding hands with the prettiest boy you've ever seen.

TAGLIST  ☆  @greenyweirdo @dontlethismagicdie

© rainverry, 2025

[towasdandelion]

Hi can you make Vagastrom and Frostheim with "Someone flirts with you" Please?

Yessss of course hehehe, it was in my plans! I hope you like it (⁠◕⁠દ⁠◕⁠)

What happens when someone flirts with you while your ghoul bestie is away?

Vagastrom and Frostheim ghouls when someone else flirts with you

Leo pretends not to care, only to show up at the scene anyway. He rolls his eyes the moment he spots you from a distance. Taking out his phone, he opens the camera app as he walks over to you. "I know she's an easy target, but what the fuck? Do you really think you have a chance or something?" He absolutely humiliates the guy, calling him names before dragging you away with him. He starts whining about how you owe him now and how he always has to save you. All the while, he's holding your hand in his...

Alan’s alarms go off, and he’s by your side in an instant, towering over the other student. He doesn’t even have to say a word - the student goes pale and takes a few steps back. Just as the guy is about to speak, Alan interrupts. “Save it. I don’t want to see you around her ever again. Understood?” The student just nods quickly and walks away. Now Alan can focus on making sure you're okay and.. scolding you. A girl like you shouldn’t be wandering around Vagastrom on her own, he says. I wonder what "a girl like you" is supposed to mean.

Sho frowns when he sees a student he knows bothering you. Looked like he chose you as his next target. Sho walks up and throws an arm over your shoulder. “What, finally noticed how cute she is? Too late.” Not giving the guy a chance to react, he swiftly whisks you away from the scene. Once it's just the two of you, he starts asking questions. You didn’t seem to know who the guy was, so Sho feels obligated to warn you about him. He also asks you to call him if anyone ever bothers you again. Better safe than sorry. Not that he's just trying to get rid of the competition or anything.

Jin was about to get back to whatever he was doing, but then he pauses. There's a guy bothering his maid right now and for some reason he can't ignore that. So he shows up just in time to see the guy’s hand reach toward you. “If you reach for something that’s not yours ever again, I won’t be this gentle” Jin says, grabbing the student’s arm and twisting it. The guy yelps in pain and quickly promises it won’t happen again. Only then does Jin let him go. And don’t think he came to save you or anything. He just happened to need to tell you something. Why is he dragging you to his room now? No idea.

Tohma quickly arrives by your side, flashing his polite smile before speaking. "Is this how you think girls should be treated? Allow me to give you a lesson. Make sure to pay attention." He then proceeds to gently bring your hand to his lips and kisses it, asking if you're okay. Was it a bit theatrical? Maybe. But it demonstrated perfectly how close you and Thoma were. Doesn't matter you're not a couple, it still sent a clear sign for the the guy to back off. The student mutters an apology and leaves. Tohma swears he just wanted to teach the guy some manners, but the look in his eyes tells a different story.

Lucas was literally born to do this. He's a gentleman, so he definitely won't ignore the situation. His steps are calm and confident, and you can see the soft smile on his face as he approaches you and the student. "Excuse me but I don't think she feels very comfortable in your presence. Would you mind keeping your distance?" The student blinks in confusion - Where did this guy even come from? And why is he being so... polite? But once he notices Luca's Frostheim uniform the guy decides to just back away, leaving you alone. After making sure you're okay Luca will escort you back to your dorm, just in case someone else wants to bother you.

Kaito... He won't stand for someone else trying to snatch his girl!!! Doesn't matter that you don't even know that yet, he will confess one day! And until that day comes he will make sure to literally act like a guard dog, trying to shoo any potential competition away. "You know she knows Jin Kamurai right? Yeah I wouldn't risk it if I were you haha" Literally using Jin as a shield but hey, it worked! The student even thanked Kaito for warning him before walking away... Well, the blonde claims the guy was a weirdo anyways so he just saved you. No need to thank him!

[iojg]

Now, after some time have passed after my somewhat passive-aggressive commentary-slash-loaded-question about generating dungeons on the fly, here's some actual articulated thoughts as an apology. I think, obviously, one can do everything like prep during the session, but I think "do everything during the session" is a bad blanket advice. I don't think there are good blanket advice about RPGs that are not just good social advice, to be honest, because the pursuits within the hobby are rather differing, so "this is fun and this is not" is fraught as anything but a statement of taste. I could stop here, and this would be an alright argument, but I want to add more because I used to be really anti-prep, and it feels to me like a sorta mind trap, because in a way "do everything during session" is a path of the least resistance of sorts. The thing is, you just can't do meaningful Situation play without some right prep done beforehand. Situation play here is any play that is about having set fictional elements and their emergent qualities that manifest upon interacting. It's "play to find out" the way it was, as far as I can tell, meant in Apocalypse World. You can play to find out how this or that strategic combat encounter goes, or what party does in the dungeon, or how that dramatically charged relationship-map changes, or whatever, but the common thing is: there gotta be something you find out by *following fiction*. As it stands, I think that is the most rewarding approach to TTRPG medium, although obviously I am not here to be fun police. Anyway... Consider this example. Say you want to play to find out what happens when a wizard and a goblin guarding treasure meet up in a cave. You play this in a "GM play world, player plays PC" traditional kinda way, and it's like, a generic D&D game that exists purely as a hypothetical. You set out playing vowing not to prep anything before or between play sessions or whatever. At the middle of the first session of play, the encounters resolve thusly: the PC wizard charms the goblin and sets him out to terrorize a hypothetical village. The village is hypothetical because the procedure of play have not generated any village. Now the situation is resolved, and we must necessarily decide whether the village exists or not after all, and what is its make up. The playing to find out in the defined sense is in suspension: until generation is resolved, nothing can truly *emerge*.

However, imagine you had the village prepped before play. Now, in that situation, the playing to find out marches on. The Situation *includes* the village, and it can meaningfully affect the player's decision to send their goblin-minion there. Previously, whatever that decision meant was up for grabs: maybe the village hosts evil men who wronged the PC, maybe there are only children there, maybe a single goblin is not even a threat and that is basically a suicide mission contrived for them, however, we as a group couldn't really *find out* anything about PC by their decision about the village, because someone gotta halt the finding out and take charge about defining that and post-factum assigning meaning to PC's action. And this is fine as long as play is about a wizard, a goblin, and a cave with treasure, but if we want the play to be about the village during the outset of the game, we need it to be there at the outset of the game, and we can not invent it. This applies to games about challenge to, obviously. If GM makes up the encounter or dungeon knowing the party composition just in time, they tailor the challenge to the party, consciously or not. Trying to remove yourself from that knowledge only gets you so far. And that's not even starting on how pressed for time you are during play! Of course, the random generators can help, but you know, you almost always have to actually make shit up for them. They are either just inspiration suppliers, which you can substitute with improv tech and which is just making shit up with aid (still not finding out), or they are probabilistic representations of the world, but you still gotta make sense out of whatever context the party encounters the goblins or whatever, and that is still part making shit up and finding out. Still, it's better than just making shit up, and you gotta make shit up at some point anyway, so obviously less important shit can suffer being made up later or on the go just fine, and making some shit up as you go is inevitable anyway, it just doesn't necessarily means that making as much shit up as possible en route is the most enjoyable. On a personal note, please don't hit me with "it's all just making shit up, who cares". I care, and there are different ways of making shit up, and they are fun in different ways. Also as a personal aside, I don't prep more than I run sessions, ever, and I don't prep anything that I don't enjoy prepping. That translates to me not running things I don't enjoy prepping, but also usually to me prepping for like 6-8 hours before any campaign starts or just after first sessions, and then like 30 minutes between every which session, which usually should net a good solid three months of play sessions. I play PBTAs, have played some OSRs, am branching out into oldish Forge stuff, and my favorite game is DitV, which also has my favorite prep. Hope this aids anyone reading in understanding my position. Sorry for mistypes and grammar!

writing intricate backstories is the playerside equivallent of the gm prep burden

[lexirosewrites]

For Slick Sunday…

So this is an idea that’s been floating around in my head for a while after reading way too many omegaverse webtoons and manhwa, but I figured now would be an appropriate time to get it out there. I have another similar idea that I may share here as well lol. Anyways…

.

Eddie is a down on his luck omega and small time dealer who left his small hometown for something bigger, maybe a music career, but people don’t really care about omega metal singers and he was never able to establish himself. And then he meets ruthless workaholic business ceo alpha Steve—who became even more than his father wanted him to be for himself—but Steve actually hates his job and his life etc. until this chance run in with Eddie caused by a bit of confusion and mistaken identity.

So, Steve has been using nonstop suppressants to keep his ruts manageable and keep from being too affected by alpha instincts, but he eventually starts having health problems caused by these suppressants being misused over a long period of time, resulting in his doctor telling him that he needs to experience a pure rut (eg. with an omega) and to stop using the suppressants in that way.

Steve is forced to regrettably comply and orders his right hand man, Tommy (who can be either another alpha or a beta depending on how the story unfolds), to find him an omega for his rut. This is where Tommy discovers Eddie and mistakenly assumes he’s a sex worker since he’s wearing kind of revealing clothing (torn jeans, a cropped shirt, leather jacket, nothing beyond what is appropriate for the metal scene but Tommy’s a sheltered idiot) and looking kind of sketchy on the street.

Meanwhile Eddie believes Tommy is there to make a drug deal, and when he’s told that it’s for Tommy’s boss and they have to go meet with him, Eddie is desperate enough for a huge windfall that he shoves the warning bells side to follow. Until he realizes what Steve wants and what they assume him to be.

Buuuuut Eddie decides to go along with it and pretend he is actually a prostitute because the pay is really good, better than he was expecting to make with his cheap mostly stem weed and knockoff drugs, and Steve is unfairly hot so he’s down for some rough rut sex with the alpha. It’s a win-win as far as he’s concerned.

Steve makes little comments here or there about how Eddie acts unlike other prostitutes he’s used in the past and Eddie is just like lol whoops. The sex is amazing though and it’s obvious that they’re super compatible, so at the end of it, Steve hands Eddie his business card and says that he would not be opposed to using Eddie’s services again for his ruts. Eddie grabs Steve’s hand unthinkingly, something Steve is entirely unfamiliar with, and messily scrawls out his own number and says he’s down to be dicked down by Steve whenever he’s in need.

And so it becomes a regularly occurring thing, with Tommy picking him up from the same spot whenever Steve needs him, and soon just because he wants him, even outside of ruts. (The ruts perhaps happen a little more frequently than normal too as Steve’s body adjusts itself and tries to flush out all the suppressant toxins.) Maybe Eddie even calls Steve up first some time to let him know he was having his heat soon if he wanted to book it, lying that he has other clients interested to make Steve pay top dollar, which Steve willingly does.

Maybe Steve even decides to keep Eddie on retainer, posting him up in a hotel suite or apartment somewhere and making him basically a sugar baby/kept omega. Since Eddie’s shitty apartment’s lease was up and he struggled to make ends meet before Steve, he readily accepts. And not just because of the growing feelings he refuses to admit he’s beginning to harbor, knowing nothing good will ever come of it.

And Tommy. Tommy who maybe also harbors feelings for Steve, who is annoyed when Steve starts dipping from work more and more to spend more time with Eddie, Tommy who hates Eddie with a passion and never fails to remind Eddie exactly what he is; nothing more than a whore who should know his place. Who should know that every gift, every favor, every act of kindness that Steve shows Eddie means nothing and not to mistake it as anything else.

And Eddie knows. He knows that someone like Steve could never truly want someone like him. Knows that, while he hadn’t originally been a prostitute, he basically turned himself into one for Steve. Knows that Steve deserves better than him.

Except maybe Steve isn’t stupid to his own feelings. Maybe he’s started to realize that he was falling for Eddie too, maybe even started to think their arrangement could mean something more.

Until Tommy discovers that Eddie wasn’t actually a prostitute, threatens Eddie with revealing the truth to Steve, making Eddie think Steve will be disgusted and angry and kick him out, and so Eddie leaves. Tells Tommy he can tell Steve whatever and just…leaves. He takes the money Tommy offers him but leaves behind the gifts Steve got him, including a beloved red and black guitar.

Blah blah blah and yadda yadda ya, Steve is heartbroken but eventually discovers the truth, fires Tommy, and seeks out Eddie to set things right. To make Eddie well and truly his, if Eddie still wants him like that.

To add a little spice, it could be that maybe it was discovered that Eddie was pregnant and that’s why Tommy does all this.

.

While I may one day write something for this, the idea is also up for grabs if anyone else wants to write it or something inspired by it! Just let us know if you do!

oh Eddie😭

[supremefloof]

tbhx pokemon AU, pt. 4 - Enlighter/God Eye, Miss J

More Yap, explanations, extra imgs below cut

"A constant collector of information, this Pokémon is very smart. Very strong is what it isn’t." - Blipbug, SwSh pokedex

I went into this with the idea that most people, especially people in cities, just logically can't deal with a full six creatures. This is different for Heroes of course since battling is more important for them.

However, even Heroes often keep unevolved pokémon with them/don't have a full team. NOBODY ON THE PLANET in this AU will EVER see a standard meta VGC team for as long as I breath, I promise. No, Not Even X.

funnily enough, these two were the easiest to decide on for some reason. Qi Shi could've easily had a full team!

Qi Shi's pokemon, as seen here: Rotom, Inkay, Blipbug -> Orbeetle, Seviper. The little black critters are not pokemon but the Spotlight Org's drones! I really liked the idea that the robots in ep.4 look like miniature Rolycoly! there's no reason for this it just sounded like fun. look at it :D

Miss J: Meowstic-F, Klefki! she keeps them in Luxury Balls; she seems like she puts a lot of effort into her appearance. Klefki is always polished and Meowstic is always groomed!

all her underlings are terrified of that Meowstic.

Meowstic, Seviper, Inkay courtesy of @cedarwrought

Enlighter probably starts off with Rotom and Blipbug. picks up Inkay somewhere along the way, and Seviper around when he starts getting obsessed with investigating Nice. (he's different in ep.6... something happened to him in those 5 years...)

oh and blipbug -> dottler -> orbeetle

Rotom helps with all those techy things! Orbeetle and Rotom together are responsible for the Moon decoy.

idk if he should bring Inkay to the episode 4 fight, it just seems a bit too cute. However, a Malamar would eat him alive 😭he is never evolving that thing

maybe Spotlight pretends to be his Inkay instead of an octopus

I had an idea about the Spotlight Organization controlling Zygarde to some extent. not the whole thing, just a chunk of it?

dunno about this, thematically for SO and Enlighter it doesn't make sense - the only thing I could think of that's related is that Zygarde is meant to bring balance. so maybe if SO is balancing Trust with Fear or something. but its also like, about the environment, which SO is def not about. However, the point of this idea is that they can lend Enlighter a Zygarde 10%!

the color scheme matches perfectlyyyy. im a sucker for matching colors...

Zygarde 10% also breaks apart after a short while, like how Qi Shi's new drip stopped working for some reason. so that would be the random bs that lets Lin Ling win (+ GE's seviper getting... sidetracked), although it would be stacked against him anyways.

unrelated notes:

pleaseeee new episodes make genesect for yang cheng make sense some how im weirdly invested into the "reasonability" of the pokemon in this au. like i could just stick him with pikachu and call it a day but noooo the lore has to fit and stuff. my brain demands it.

for the first time in a while I used over half of my webglazes in a week? I've been super focused on drawing stuff lately because of tbhx and the amazing tumblr community <3. glaze your artworks!

what is up with pokemon sizes. you're telling me blipbug and orbeetle are the same size? why is seviper over EIGHT feet tall??

prev

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Can you make a Part II to 'When your Character Needs Outdoor Survival Skills'? That post was an absolute treasure trove and useful to me! Maybe focusing on the problems/inconveniences the characters can encounter and the required skills needed for those specific problems while surviving in the woods/outdoors. If not, that's totally fine! Thank you anyway for all of the great work you do!

When your Character Needs Outdoor Survival Skills

Part 2: Survival Tools & Techniques. What to do if something goes wrong?

Wilderness Survival - describes ways to stay alive far from civilization and support. It may describe short-turn survival while awaiting rescue or long-term living choices made by people with few resources or a desire to live in a secluded area.

It involves adaptation and the ability to make the most of what is available.

Foraging for food, purifying water, and finding or creating shelter are among the most important survival skills.

IF YOU GET LOST. Stop, Think, Observe, Plan.

Stop. Sit down and stay put until the fear, anger, and/or frustration has gone away.

Think. Think through your situation: What do you have that can help you in this situation? Your mind is your greatest survival tool!

Observe. Observe your surroundings: Where should you stay? If you told someone where you were going, people might be searching for you. Is there an open area where searchers would have a better chance of seeing you?

Plan. Plan your action. In most cases, the priority should be: (a) Find or make shelter (b) Build a fire for heat (c) Signal to attract attention (d) Find water

WILDERNESS SURVIVAL. First Aid & Health

When traveling into the wilderness, it is important to carry a complete first aid kit. If an accident happens in the wilderness, it is your responsibility to deal with the situation. The following sequence of actions to remember when dealing with situations should be followed every time:

Remain calm.

Check the scene. What caused the accident? Are there dangers? How many victims?

Call for help. Know the location, description of injury, time of injury, treatment received, and number of people.

Approach safely. Look for dangers. Tell the victim your name.

Provide urgent treatment. Is the person conscious and breathing? Is there severe bleeding? Is there evidence of pills, chemicals, or other poisons?

Protect from further injury. Avoid moving someone who is injured unless it is impossible to perform urgent first aid or the person is in a dangerous location.

Treat every accident victim for shock.

Make a thorough examination. Look for other injuries that may be hidden and ask the victim questions if they are alert.

Plan a course of action. If help is on the way, keep the victim comfortable. If help will be delayed, decide on a clear course of action.

Safety & Protection Concerns. Include basic first aid training, shelter, and protection from dangers such as animal attacks.

Wounds should be kept clean.

Bandages, if necessary, may be improvised using clothing.

Fractures may be splinted using sticks and belts or shoelaces.

Many wild plants can be used as medicine, but only if one is knowledgeable of medicinal plants.

If one encounters animals, it is generally best to back away slowly.

Most animals avoid humans unless threatened or ill.

Acting Quickly. Assess victims and take action in limited-resource and sometimes dangerous environments.

Some of the steps to take in those first, crucial moments of an emergency.

10-second survey: Look at the victim. Assess breathing and pulse. Introduce yourself and ask for permission to treat. Ask for the victim’s name and cause of distress. If the victim can speak, the airway is not blocked.

Treat life-threatening injuries first: If the airway is blocked, clear it. Apply direct pressure to wounds. On extremities, use a tourniquet several inches above the injury.

Assess the scene. Are you or the victim in immediate danger? Threats could include fire, flood, bullets, traffic and wild animals.

Alert others. Ask people around you to help, giving specific instructions. Tell someone to call 911 or get more assistance.

Stabilize the cervical spine: Use or create a cervical collar, or place a hand on either side of the patient’s head.

Cover the victim: Hypothermia decreases blood flow and impairs blood clotting.

FIRE. Safely maintained, fire is an essential survival tool.

It can provide heat, discourage many animals, signal to rescuers, heat food, and boil water to purify it.

If fire gets out of hand, however, it can quickly become a danger.

Starting a Fire

Fire can be started using many methods to create a spark, such as a battery and some steel wool or wire.

First lay a forearm-sized log down as a base in an area cleared of flammable materials, and gather the items needed.

Use the spark to ignite tinder—dry fibrous material, such as dried grasses, cattail fluff, or birch bark—against the base log.

Stack kindling against the log, allowing air to flow around it.

Begin with toothpick-sized twigs, increasing the size of the kindling to Q-tip and pencil size, and then add larger sticks and branches until the fire is hot. Add larger logs.

Signal for Rescuers

To create a signal for rescuers, build a fire out in the open, so the smoke will rise up and be visible.

Once it is burning well, add green branches, such as pine boughs, to make a great deal of thick smoke.

One may also use a reflective surface or mirror to signal.

In the absence of a signal device, if a rescue plane or helicopter is visible, hold arms up and out, like a Y.

WATER. If water is available, it is safest to boil it to kill pathogens.

Sources of water that should be safe to drink without boiling include dew, rain, and snow.

To collect dew, soak as much as possible up with cloth, such as a bandana, and wring it out.

Water can be found in certain plants, such as maple trees, if they can be properly identified as safe and if one has a tool to cut a hole in the bark. Water can also be collected through transpiration.

One can enclose a leafy branch in a clear plastic bag and tie it tightly closed. Water will slowly condense inside the bag.

FINDING FOOD depends on knowledge.

Many plants are edible, but individuals must learn to identify them using a reliable guide.

Similar-looking plants could be deadly, so one should never eat anything unless completely certain of its identification.

Common forest foods include: acorns from oak trees, dandelion leaves, wild grapes, and pine nuts.

Protein from small creatures, such as fish and frogs, is usually more readily available than larger game, such as deer.

Fish, snakes, and other small game can be caught using a gig, or a pronged spear. A split-tip gig can be made from a sapling that is about an inch in diameter:

Use a knife or sharp rock to split the fat end into four equal sections, several inches deep.

Spread these tines apart with sticks and sharpen them to points.

NAVIGATION is another important survival skill.

Without a compass and map or working global positioning system��(GPS) tool, use the sky to navigate.

The sun rises roughly in the east and sets in the west.

At night, find the North Star, Polaris, at the end of the handle of the Little Dipper constellation.

Face Polaris; this is true north.

An individual who does not know which direction to travel may follow a stream, which flows downhill.

ROPES & STRINGS can come in handy in many situations and are most useful if one learns a variety of knots.

Ropes can be used to create shelters, tie snares, carry gear, and climb cliffs.

One may improvise by using shoelaces, threads from clothing, drawstrings, dental floss, or other materials.

POISONOUS PLANTS. The most common ill effect on humans is a rash caused by contact with the plants or with their oil, called urushiol.

To prevent contact, do the following:

Wear shoes and socks, not open sandals

Look carefully at plants before walking through or touching them

Be cautious when wiping sweat from your forehead with your arm; you may have had contact with urushiol on your sleeve, transferring it onto your face and in your eyes

Wear loose clothing

Be careful in water, plants growing at the water’s edge can release enough urushiol into water to cause a reaction

Wash pets that may have traveled through poison

Decontaminate your belongings

SOME COMMON INJURIES & GENERAL CARE. While exploring the great outdoors, common injuries & what to do include:

FIRST STEP: Call for help.

General Care: BLEEDING

Cover with sterile bandage or clean cloth.

Use direct pressure to stop bleeding.

Elevate injured body part above heart to slow blood flow.

Use pressure at the pulse point between the injured area and the heart if bleeding fails to stop.

After bleeding has been controlled, wash wounded area and apply a dressing or bandage.

General Care: BURNS

Give care for specific type of burn (thermal/heat, chemical or electrical).

Continue checking them as appropriate to determine if additional care is needed.

Keep them from getting cold or overheated.

Give care for shock, if necessary.

Position the person as appropriate.

Reassure them you will help and that EMS has been called (if appropriate).

Watch for changes in condition, including breathing and responsiveness, and give care as appropriate and trained.

General Care: FRACTURE

Treat all muscle and bone injuries as potential fractures.

Have the person rest without moving or straightening the body part.

If the wound is closed, apply a cold pack wrapped in a thin, dry towel to the area. (a) Apply for no more than 20 minutes unless this causes pain. (b) Wait 20 minutes before applying again.

If the wound is open and bleeding, apply direct pressure to control bleeding.

If 9-1-1 is not called, contact a healthcare provider and follow their guidance.

Continue checking them as appropriate to determine if additional care is needed.

Keep person from getting cold or overheated.

Give care for shock, if necessary.

Reassure person you will help and that EMS has been called (if appropriate).

Watch for changes in condition, including breathing and responsiveness, and give care as appropriate and trained.

If trained and need to move or transport for medical care, give care based on level of training.

General Care: HYPOTHERMIA

Rewarm the person slowly. Rapid rewarming can lead to dangerous heart rhythms.

Move the person to a warmer place.

Remove wet clothes.

Dry the person.

Help the person put on dry clothing, including hat, gloves and socks, if available.

Wrap the person in dry blankets and plastic sheeting, if available.

Cover the person’s head.

Position the person as appropriate near a heat source or apply heating pads or hot water bottles filled with warm water to the body (if far from medical care).

Wrap heating pads or hot water bottles in thin, dry cloths to protect the person’s skin.

Offer small sips of a warm, non-caffeinated liquid if alert and can swallow. Examples include broth, warm water.

Continue checking them as appropriate to determine if additional care is needed.

Give care for shock, if necessary.

Reassure person you will help and that EMS has been called (if appropriate).

Watch for changes in condition, including breathing and responsiveness, and give care as appropriate. Be prepared to give CPR or compression-only CPR based on level of training and use an AED when available if the person becomes unresponsive and is not breathing (cardiac arrest).

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs ⚜ Part 1

Writing References: Injuries

Lovely of you to say, thanks so much! You can find more details in the sources. Also included a previous post on different injuries that you might find useful as well. All the best with your writing!

[tea-cuz-why-not]

Angel of Death strikes again(Villain Kore)

*the main cast fighting Romeo* *cars fly or something* *his bots manage to knock them away and out* *his phone/communicator rings* <<Hey there Rom-com>> ”Kore?”

<<in the flesh, or I guess not since we’re not face to face, you know, one really shouldn’t leave their home unattended>>

*his face falls* *he does some clicking**shocked face as he realises the system is down*

“Youre in my base? what are you doing there?”

*scenery change, Romeo’s base, The Angel of Death stands there*

“Well I came to visit but you weren’t home, the awful host that you are”

<<what did you do!?>>

“Oh nothing much, just dismantled your security system, broke in, made your bots break each other and now… I’m downloading all your data!”

<<WHAT!?>>

*there’s a moment of silence as Romeo considers his options, he is distracted*

<<why are you even telling me this?>> ”To distract you from the fight” :D

*a series of crashes is heard from the comms, scenery changes, fight scene* *owlette managed to get the rubble off of herself and attacked him*

Sorry for the wait everyone, got a little too invested in this random ass au(and also school)

anyways, here’s prompt 13: As a villain/gone rogue

I’ve been thinking, what could possibly have happened that Kore “I can’t leave cause my family would be in danger and everyone at GT would have to endure more pain” Faulkner went rogue, and I think it’s a mix of things

first, her family. Dunno if they would die or just get out of GT’s area of influence but they would need to be at least safe(or, well, dead)

secondly, something would have to force her out. Probably a big stunt that would push into motion the “you don’t leave GT in anything other than a coffin” rule. Also As I am currently obsessed w/ the Apothecary diaries maybe she faked her death( I will keep the way they’d do it secret cause spoilers) but then made it very known that she’s alive? I don’t know

anyways, now known as The Angel of Death(courtesy of my Philza Minecraft fixation) she puts her brain 100% into use, mostly acting as a hacker menace for GT and Romeo and stuff, working on Elodie Protocol- a programme meant to destroy all GT data at once, every experiment, every report, everything that makes it possible to run GT, and sometimes making appearances in person. Her implant is cracked because of whatever happened that made her leave, but I don’t know what that does to them.

anyways, thanks for your patience, if you made it this far, here is a potato 🥔