#so I google the lead author

[akutagawas-missing-arm]

Talking about fanfiction with my group chat and everytime they ask what my favourite fanfics for certain ships are I just have to deflect the conversation because my favourite fics just so happen to be written in october and they don't want to match my freak (the freaky little guys make me cry over them for 30+ chapters)

[crushedsweets]

CREEPED VISUAL NOVEL Link, tutorial, extra art, Q&A, some chatter

The CREEPED Prologue is completely free and browser-ready. Gameplay is about 10 minutes. Please read the "tutorial" and notes before playing!

Follow Y/N and their dog, Max, through their grandparents' farm and a mysterious forest filled with...less than fortunate people!

PLAY HERE; works best on PC

This visual novel is powered by GOOGLE SLIDES! It has 0 programming and was created by one person in a little over a month, so please bear with any "bugs" and clunkiness!

TUTORIAL

>Click using mouse/trackpad >Go slowly to not break game >Do not use arrow or space keys

EXTRA NOTES:

>Works best on PC/Browser, I haven't tested the full game on mobile yet >In general, clicking the PNGs on the textbox (Apple, Teddy Bear, Hatchet, etc) will lead you to the right page >If you land on a page that tells you to "go back," that's when you should click the back-arrow key. If your cursor disappears, it doesn't register the click correctly >I recommend moving your cursor periodically to avoid it disappearing and sending you to the wrong page

EXTRA ART

some WIPS and the original sprite-style i was gonna choose LOOOOOOOL

Q&A

Q: Is this an x reader? A: This is a reader-insert, but it's not romantic and I try to keep it as neutral and unidentifiable as possible! Q: What's the plot? A: GENERALLY AND WITHOUT SPOILERS, your dog gets you into trouble and you're just looking to help him!

Q: Who is in the prologue? A: Tim, Brian, Toby, and Kate! More will be added in future chapters.

Q: When will future chapters be posted? A: Not sure! This took me about a month to do, and half was spent over winter break. I will try to get chapter 1 posted before summer, but I am a full-time student, employed, have extracurriculars, etc etc

ok thats all i only remember 4 questions feel free to ask more LMAO

CHATTER(because you know i can talk forever)

ok i just wanted to be able to talk about how the process was with this and how i feel about the results and whatnot...

ive been wanting to make a google slides visual novel since i was like 13 LOL it hit the point where i was repeatedly told i should just learn to code but i was like NOOOOO ITS GOTTA BE GOOGLE SLIDESSSS which is totally stupid but hey. i think that gives it some sort of simple charm that reminds me of being 16 and doing little projects in my room LOL i like working with the easiest tools . my bad

anyway. im just very happy LOL. it's not perfect but i feel like i came full circle in a sense?!?! i've been into creepypasta since i was 9 and it comforted me when things were really hard, and when i was 18 i was going through a really hard time and got back into creepypasta as a way to distract myself. i've always had a habit of throwing myself into fiction for escapism when things suuucked.

i'm 20 now but i've met SO many amazing people, had so many fun awesome exciting projects with friends, created tons of stuff im proud of, felt more motivated to create since i was like 13, have been inspired by so many amazing artists/authors on here, etc. just so so so lucky to find community in such a tight-knit cute fandom that thrives off of creativity and playing around! i hope i can keep the momentum and make a couple more chapters this year, but im kinda busy with school and work...LOL . i'm just excited to have this posted so i can have more discussion about it T_T

anyway thank you if you read this far and thank you if you played etc etc yaahhhhhh omg ok BYE THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING im just so grateful to be in this fandom

[rynwrites4fun]

Across The Hall (10) | Michael Robinavitch x Neighbor/Teacher ! Reader

Michael Robinavitch x F ! Nieghbor/Teacher ! Reader

Summary: Michael visits you unexpectedly after your emergency admission. Still raw from the past and weighed down by guilt, you try to push him away

Word Count: 5063

Warning: Age Gap (Mid 20s/Early 50s), Head Injury (Factured Skull)

Author Note: I’m gonna be so real...the injury in the fic is inspired by my brother, who fractured his skull. (The injury itself obviously isn’t funny, but the fact that I’m using it for this is. LOL) I was asking him questions about it (because, you know I wanted it to be accurate) but I mostly went off memory since it happened like 12 years ago and some Google research. Our friend got suspicious and was like, “Why are you asking him about his injury??” because when I asked it was so random and out of the blue. So I came clean and told them I was using it for the fic, because it’s the only major injury I could understand and write about. They were like, “Omggggg,” and then I said, “I experienced it secondhand,” which made both of them burst out laughing. They were like, “You’re acting like you went through the pain and trauma” And I was like, “Okay, but I witnessed the aftermath, so im adjacent". Lol but im glad I have a brother and friends are supportive of my hobbies. I used to be so embarrassed telling people I read (and attempted to write fics) as a teenager but I don't care anymore. It's fun. And writing fic is mostly for me like, it’s self-indulgent. I get these scenarios stuck in my head and I have to get them out before they drive me insane. Okay enough with the long authors note. Let the slow burn continue. Least Aidens out the way and we're on the right path!!! - Ryn

“I’m telling you—she’s Robby’s girlfriend,” Princess whispered to Perla, Dennis, Trinity, and Mateo as they all crowded near the nurses’ station, pretending to look busy. 

“That bet was made months ago? We’re still on about that?” Dennis muttered, sipping water like he wasn’t interested—but he was absolutely interested. He still had all their bets on his note app. 

“Are you even sure she’s Robby’s girlfriend?” Mateo asked, glancing over his shoulder toward the exam rooms. 

Princess leaned in, eyes wide with scandal. “Okay, I’m not a hundred percent sure, but she knows him. She used his first name.”

“So?” Trinity shrugged. “We all know his name.”

Princess shakes her head “Nobody calls Robby by his first name—not here. It’s Dr. Robinavitch or Robby. I think something happened. Maybe they broke up?”

Dennis snorted. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No, listen!” Princess said, her voice getting louder. “She told Jack she didn’t want Robby to know she was here.”

That shut them up for a second.

“Robby hasn’t been himself lately,” Perla added, folding her arms. “You know he’s been different…off”

“Exactly!” Princess said, her eyes wide with satisfaction. “Weird, distracted, moody—like he's haunted or something.”

“I mean…” Mateo leaned in. “It is kinda sus.”

“Suspicious?” Trinity echoed with a grin. “It’s a whole soap opera. Honestly? I respect it.”

Just then, Victoria walked up, holding a folder and raising an eyebrow at the group.

“What’s going on?” she asked, sensing the low buzz of drama instantly.

“We’re talking about Robby’s potential girlfriend,” Mateo whispered, eyes flicking toward the hallway. “Apparently, she showed up injured today”

“Ohhh,” Victoria said, eyes lighting up. “That girl in exam room 13?”

“I was shadowing him earlier, he let me take a lead on a patient” Victoria said casually, flipping the folder open like it wasn’t a big deal. “Dana pulled him outside, told him “She’s here. In Exam room 13” and he bolted. Just took off…” 

“Bolted?” Perla asked, her eyebrows raised.

“Like The Flash” Victoria confirmed. “There and just… gone.”

Everyone let that sink in.

Princess blinked, then smirked. “Okay. Now I’m one hundred percent sure.”

“Cough it up, folks. Time to settle the bet,” Princess said, smug as she pulled out her phone.

A chorus of groans erupted, quickly devolving into overlapping voices.

“Oh, come on!” Dennis protested. “We don’t even know for sure!”

A collective groan rippled through the group, followed by instant chaos.

“Yeah, it’s not confirmed!” Mateo jumped in. “We had other bets too—like whether she’s his ex or just some mystery girl—”

“Or if they even dated,” Trinity added.

“I said they hooked up. That’s different,” Perla cut in.

“I never agreed to Venmo anyone!” Dennis argued. “This wasn’t even settled!”

“You’re all just mad I was right,” Princess said with a smug shrug.

“You don’t know you were right!” Victoria said. “Where’s the actual proof?” She jumps in although she is not a part of the bets that were made. 

“And Mel and Samria were there when we made the original bet,” Mateo said, pointing around like he was assembling a case in court. “They weren’t in on it—but they heard it. They can contest if you’re twisting the terms.”

“Right! Mel literally said, ‘This is messy—I want no part of it,’ but she definitely heard what was said,” Trinity added.

“Samria too,” Perla nodded. “She rolled her eyes and walked away, but she knows.”

“And John, he’s not here, he can’t be vocal about this! They’re all even here!” Dennis said. “We can’t settle anything without them.”

“Okay, so now we need a full panel of witnesses?” Princess teased. “What is this, court TV?”

The group was descending into pure chaos—everyone talking over one another, debating technicalities, rewriting the betting rules in real time.

The group was in full disarray now—everyone talking at once, hands gesturing wildly, no one listening.

Then—

“Alright,” came a voice—dry, sharp, and unmistakably not amused.

They turned to see Jack standing a few feet away, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but clearly not thrilled.

He’d been on his way to retrieve you from your CT scan when he heard your name—and Robby’s—floating around the nurses’ station like it was common gossip.

“If we’re placing bets on coworkers again, could we at least pretend to be subtle?” he said. “This is an ER, it’s busy, and this—” he gestured at their little gossip circle— “is neither the time nor the place.”

Silence.

“And more importantly,” Jack added, his tone cutting now, “whatever’s going on with Robby—it’s none of our business. Got it?”

Nods all around. No one dared say a word.

“Princess, CT scan lets go”

Princess straightened up and started moving toward radiology without another word.

He let the silence sit a beat longer, then said, “Don’t you all have patients to attend to?”

Cue instant movement. A shuffle of folders, awkward throat clears, and a whole lot of very sudden enthusiasm for documentation.

Within seconds, a chorus of awkward mumbles followed—“Right,” “Of course,” “Yep” as the group dispersed.

Jack heavily signed, shaking his head and headed to retrieve you from the CT scan. 

Jack sighed heavily, shook his head, and headed down the hallway after Princess to retrieve you from the CT scan.

—

Michael kept himself busy, moving from room to room with practiced focus, but thoughts of you lingered like static at the back of his mind—always there, just beneath the surface. He was waiting. Bracing. Every moment, he expected Jack to come find him with an update. He told himself to be patient, but the waiting felt like its own kind of ache.

He was walking down the corridor when Dana fell into step beside him.

“Hey,” she said as they neared the nurses’ station, her tone casual but her eyes sharp and watchful.

“Jack meant to come find you himself,” she continued, sliding a chart into the slot behind her. “But he got tied up. Still, he wanted me to let you know—she’s back in her room”

Michael stopped abruptly as they reached the nurses’ station, and Dana halted beside him.

She looked at him for a moment, then added, “You should go see her.”

Michael’s hands tightened slightly around the edge of the counter. “I don’t know if I should.”

The words came out quiet, but honest.

He’d calmed from the initial panic—the adrenaline rush of hearing you were here, and hurt. But now that he had a moment to breathe, all that was left was the fear.

Would you even want to see him?

After everything, after all this time—was he the last person you wanted in the room?

“Robby,” Dana said, arms crossing, “quit being ridiculous.”

He looked up. 

“You hauled ass the second I told you she was here. You didn’t even blink. Now go see that girl.”

He didn’t move.

Dana leaned in slightly. “You ran, Michael. That tells me everything I need to know.”

“You don’t run like that unless someone codes,” she said gently. “Or unless it’s someone you care about.”

She pauses

“Someone you love.”

Michael swallowed hard.

Dana gave him a small, wry smile. “That kind of panic? That kind of instinct? You only get that when your heart’s on the line.”

Michael blinked, caught off guard. He opened his mouth to argue—but couldn’t find the words.

Dana gave him a knowing look. “So stop overthinking it. Go see her.”

Then Michael nodded again, a little more firmly this time. He stepped back from the desk and turned toward the floor, his steps quiet but purposeful as he made his way to your room.

Michael opened the exam room door. You were propped up, the exam bed and a slight angle. 

The door closed softly behind him.

You were sound asleep.

He reached for the light switch, flicked off the harsh overhead lights, leaving one light on so the room was dim but not completely dark.

He made his way over to you, standing at the foot of the bed, watching your chest rise and fall with steady breaths.

From the supply rack nearby, he grabbed an extra blanket and began to unfold it slowly, the fabric rustling softly in the quiet room. He draped it gently over you, smoothing the edges with care, as if shielding you from the cold and from the world outside.

He grabbed the extra chair and pulled it closer to your bed, sitting down with a quiet sigh.

Slowly, cautiously, he reached out and took your hand in his. Your fingers were limp at first—cold and still—but then, almost imperceptibly, they curled around his.

Your eyes fluttered open, hazy and unsure, and found him there—sitting at your bedside.

He moved the moment you met his gaze, leaning in slightly, like he couldn’t help it. As if your consciousness pulled him in with the same quiet gravity that had held him in place all this time.

His eyes searched yours—steady, silent, drinking you in. He didn’t speak at first. He just looked at you with a quiet intensity, like he was grounding himself in the fact that you were really here. Awake. Alive.

“Hey,” he said at last, voice soft—almost reverent.

He offered a faint smile. Not forced. Not polished. Just… fragile.

Your lips parted, barely able to form the words. “What are you doing here?”

It came out as little more than a whisper—a frayed thread of sound. You were still trying to orient yourself, to separate the remnants of the panic from reality, to believe this moment was real and not some fever dream conjured by the pain.

“I came to see you,” he said softly. “I heard you tripped. Hit your head…”

His voice wavered slightly—just enough for you to hear everything he wasn’t saying. He swallowed hard, and his gaze flicked across your face, like he was checking for further damage. “You scared me. I was so worried.”

He exhaled slowly. “It’s good to see you coherent. Alert.”

You blinked up at him, overwhelmed by the quiet sincerity in his voice, the weight of his presence beside your bed. And yet, guilt curled tight in your chest like a warning.

Michael’s brow furrowed then, confusion slowly knitting his features as he caught the flicker of something in your expression—shame, maybe. Fear.

You shifted your gaze away, unable to meet his eyes. Instead, you focused on the edge of the blanket pulled up over your stomach.

“You shouldn’t be in here with me, Michael.”

The words were soft—barely audible—but they landed like a stone dropped in still water, sending ripples outward.

Michael’s head tilted slightly, his brows pulling together as confusion crept across his features. “Why?” he asked, voice cautious, quiet.

You drew in a breath, but it felt like it caught halfway down your chest. Your heart pounded, not from pain this time, but from the unbearable closeness of him—his presence, his concern, the way he looked at you like none of the in-between had happened.

“You shouldn’t,” you repeated, firmer this time, even though your throat burned. “And I mean it.”

You forced yourself to lift your gaze, to face him. The words scraped as they came out. “You’re… not supposed to be here. Not after everything.”

The air between you changed—denser, heavier. Like the room itself was holding its breath.

He didn’t move. Didn’t argue or recoil. But the flicker of hurt that crossed his face was quick and sharp, even though he tried to blink it away. His posture remained open, but his jaw tensed slightly—like he was bracing for a blow.

“I—I tried to get them to take me to Allegheny,” you blurted, too fast, like the words had been waiting to escape. Your fingers gripped the blanket now, knuckles white. “The paramedics—I told them, I asked—”

Michael’s expression changed in an instant. His brow furrowed deeper, and the concern in his eyes sharpened with sudden intensity.

“Why would you do that?”

You hesitated, your lips parting, but nothing came at first. The truth curled just behind your teeth, raw and painful.

Then, quieter: “Because you’re here.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of it pressing against your chest.

“This is your place of work,” you continued, voice trembling. “Your ER. You have a whole floor of patients who actually need you. You don’t need to be here with me” 

His eyes darkened with something unreadable, but he didn’t interrupt.

“Dr. Abbot said they’ll monitor me for a couple hours,” you added, your voice tapering into something almost numb. “Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

The words hung between you, heavy with more meaning than you dared unpack.

You tried to believe them. Tried to convince yourself that keeping your distance was some kind of kindness. But even as you said it, something inside you recoiled—some small part that hated the idea of him walking away, even if it felt like the right thing to do.

“I'm an attending physician. This is my ER. I’m authorized to be anywhere I’m needed—and right now, that’s here. With you.”

Michael’s eyes softened. “Honestly, I’d rather have you here at PTMC than Allegheny. I want you close.”

Your breath hitched. “Michael—stop.”

He shook his head gently. His voice was low, but steady—anchored in something that had been building for far too long.

“And besides… none of them matter as much as you do to me.”

His gaze held yours, unflinching. There was no hesitation in his voice—just quiet certainty, and something raw beneath it.

“When I found out you were here, I dropped everything. I didn’t even think. I just—moved.”

His fingers tightened slightly around yours, like he needed the contact to stay grounded.

“Nothing else mattered. Not the shift. Not the patients. Not protocol.”

His voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper now.

“Just you.”

Your voice trembled with disbelief—not because you didn’t want to hear it, but because you couldn’t believe he still wanted you. Not after the silence. Not after the way you left things.

And yet… here he was.

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered, broken. “You can’t.” Your throat tightened painfully. “You don’t have to do this—to pretend. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me.”

Michael looked at you like you’d just said something absurd. “Is that really what you think? That I could hate you?”

You tried to hold it in, but the dam cracked. Your lips quivered, and then a raw, desperate sob slipped free.

“How couldn’t you?”

Your voice broke in the silence, raw and trembling.

“And I’m sorry—” The words spilled out in broken gasps, barely held together by your breath. “For everything. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t rush in to hush your grief or offer easy reassurances.

He just stayed there. Still. Solid. A quiet presence in the storm of your unraveling.

Tears streamed down your face faster than you could wipe them away. Your shoulders shook, and you hated the way your breath hitched, the way your chest aches like something inside you had finally split open.

“I know I hurt you,” you choked out, voice hoarse. “After how I left things… how I pushed you away. So how can you even look at me?”

There was a long pause—heavy, but not cold.

Then Michael leaned forward, his hand reaching up with a gentleness that shattered you all over again. His thumb brushed a tear from your cheek, and then another. Slow. Unhurried. Like he had all the time in the world for your pain.

“Because I still see you,” he said softly. “Not what happened. Not the mess. Just… you.”

His eyes held yours, unflinching. There was no judgment there. Just quiet, aching sincerity.

“Sweetheart—”

Your eyes fluttered shut the moment it left his lips.

“None of that matters,” he murmured. “Not right now. Not while you’re hurting. We’ll talk—when the time's right, but not tonight.”

He stood up, leaned in, and you barely had time to brace yourself before his lips found your forehead—soft, slow, grounding.

And that—that—undid you. Not the pain. Not the panic. But his voice, full of a tenderness you hadn’t earned but were so desperate for.

You crumbled, truly this time. No more holding it together, no more pretending you were fine. The sob tore from your throat—sharp, unguarded, broken—and before you could think, you reached for him. You sat up, your arms wrapping around his neck, you clung to him. 

He held you without hesitation.

His arms closed around you instantly, instinctively. He exhaled a long, quiet breath, one that sounded almost like a sigh of relief, his chest rising and falling against yours.

God, he’d needed this. To feel you there, warm and real and alive in his arms.

His hand slid up your back, slow and steady, fingertips tracing comforting circles against the thin fabric of your gown.

“Shh,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I got you.”

His arms tightened around you, one hand moved in slow, soothing circles down your spine.

“I’m right here,” he whispered again, soft as a vow. “Not going anywhere.”

You nodded against him, your breath catching as the sobs faded into soft, shaky exhales. Slowly, your body began to settle, sinking back into the bed, heavy with exhaustion.

“You need to rest,” he said gently, easing back into the chair beside your bed. His hand found yours again, intertwining. 

Your grip tightened slightly around his. “Stay?” you murmured, your voice already thick with sleep. “Just for a little while.”

Your eyes were heavy, lashes fluttering as exhaustion began to pull you under again.

His thumb brushed softly over your knuckles, slow and steady.

“I will,” he said quietly, his gaze still on you. “I promise.”

—

Jack stepped into the room quietly. It was slightly dim—only one of the overhead lights was on, casting a soft, amber glow across the space.

He stopped when he saw you both.

Michael was slumped in a chair beside the exam bed, fast asleep, his arms folded on the mattress. One of his hands was loosely holding yours, his head resting near them, close enough that your fingers stayed tangled even in sleep. You were curled on your side, facing him, your breathing slow and steady.

Jack stood in the doorway for a moment, saying nothing—just watching.

Michael had disappeared from the floor a while ago. Though the team was holding it down, his absence hadn’t gone unnoticed—nurses exchanged glances, whispers passed between staff, a quiet question hanging in the air: where was he attending? 

But Jack hadn’t needed to guess. He already knew he was here

Jack snorted quietly, smirking to himself as he stepped into the room and moved to the foot of the bed. Pulling out his phone, he opened the camera and started snapping pictures—of Michael half-draped over the bed, of your fingers laced together, of the soft, exhausted peace on both your faces.

After a few shots—clearly satisfied—he tucked his phone back into his pocket, the smirk still tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Robby?” Jack whispered. 

He waited for a beat, then said louder, “Robby!”

Michael inhaled sharply, eyes snapping open. He blinked up, disoriented for a split second before his gaze landed on Jack. Realization hit—he’d fallen asleep.

“Shit,” he mumbles, sitting up, trying not to wake you. He lets go of your hand gently as you lay sleeping.

Jack raised a brow, smirking. “Spending a little too much time with one patient,” he teased.

“Shut up,” Michael muttered, his voice rough with sleep.

“Hey, your words, not mine.” Jack held up his hands in defense. “I’ve heard you say the same thing to Mohan.”

Jack chuckled under his breath. “Seriously, though—you’re lucky it was me who walked in.”

Michael was quietly grateful it had been Jack. If anyone else had walked in, it would’ve been a disaster.

He’d never fallen asleep on the job like that before. Sure, during brutal double shifts, he’d crashed in an empty exam room now and then—but not like this. Not with someone else there.

He sat up, groaning a little as he stretched.

“Her results came back,” Jack said, holding up the iPad.

Michael stood and moved to the end of the bed where Jack was. Jack turned the screen toward him, and they looked at it together.

“There,” Jack said, tapping the scan. “Fractured skull. Right side of her head. No bleeding, but…” He hesitated. “She’s got some air bubbles.”

Michael leaned in, frowning at the faint black pockets. “Pneumocephalus?”

Jack nodded. “Most likely from the impact. Neuro’s on their way to evaluate.”

“Could’ve been worse, but she’s stable,” Jack said. “Vitals are solid. But she’ll need monitoring.”

Michael sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I hate to tear you away from her, but you gotta get back out there. People are talking.”

​​“Talking?” Michael asked, already dreading the answer.

Jack gave him a look. “You’ve been gone a while, man. The team’s starting to wonder where you are. Rumor mill in full swing. They’re making bets.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Bets?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised. Was he mad? Not really. Irritated? Sure. This was the ER—he’d taken part in plenty of gossip and side bets over the years. Hell, he’d even been the subject of a few. But this felt different.

Michael let out a short breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. This place ran on caffeine, adrenaline, and gossip—half the time, there was a pool going on over something as mundane as someone’s lunch order.

Jack winced. “Yeah. The ER’s bored. You know how it goes.”

Jack shifted, “Yeah… well. It started a while ago—look, it goes back to when you—” He waved a hand, brushing it off. “You know what? It’s not important. I’ll fill you in later.”

Michael just gave him a tired look, but said nothing.

Jack didn’t press. “I’ve got this. I’ll stay with her until Neuro gets here. You go check in with the nurses, make a loop through the trauma bays—just show your face.”

Michael glanced back toward the bed. You were still resting, your breathing steady but shallow, brow slightly furrowed even in sleep.

He didn’t want to leave. Not yet.

But Jack was right. He’d already disappeared longer than he should’ve, and the ER had a rhythm—it noticed when someone broke from it.

Michael exhaled slowly, nodding. “Alright.”

You groan and begin to stir.

“Michael?” you mumbled as you started to wake.

His attention shifted immediately from Jack to you. Without hesitation, he turned back—returning, sinking into the chair he’d only just left, pulling it in close beside your bed.

“Hey, Sweetheart” He reached for your hand, brushing his thumb gently over the back of it, his expression soft, focused entirely on you.

You blinked a few times, disoriented, the haze of sleep still thick. Everything felt slow. Heavy. Off.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly.

“My head really hurts,” you groaned, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know, baby.” His voice was steady, calm. “We’ll give you something for the pain, okay?”

You nodded a little, then winced. “My results came in?”

Jack glanced at Michael, silently prompting him to explain.

Michael hesitated for a breath, then spoke gently. “You have a small fracture on the right side of your skull. There’s no bleeding, but there are a few tiny air bubbles—something called pneumocephalus. It probably happened from the impact when you fell.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Air… bubbles? In my head?”

“Yeah,” he said, tightening his hold on your hand. “It sounds scarier than it is. You’re stable. Neuro’s on their way, and we’re keeping a close eye on everything.”

Your lip trembled. “Am I going to be okay?”

Michael leaned in, eyes locked on yours. “You are. I promise. You’re going to be okay.”

You tried to believe him—but your chest was tight, your heart thudding faster.

“What if it gets worse?”

He moved his free hand to cup your cheek gently. “Then we’ll be ready. You’re not alone, okay? I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Your fingers curled around his. “I’m scared.” a tear rolled down your cheek

“I know,” he whispered, his voice catching just slightly. He brushed the tear away with his thumb, his touch soft and steady.

“But I’m going to be here, okay?”

You closed your eyes, breathing through the fear, grounding yourself in the warmth of his hand and the steady rhythm of his voice.

Just then, Jack cleared his throat softly and said, “Michael.”

Michael’s eyes flicked toward Jack, then back to you. He knew he’d been gone from the floor too long.

With a sigh and reluctant squeeze of your hand, he whispered, “I have to go do my rounds but I’ll be back as soon as I can to check up on you, okay?”

You nodded, still holding onto him.

You wanted to tell him not to go—that it felt safer with him here, that the fear wasn’t as loud when he was close. But you knew that was selfish. He had a job to do, lives to save, and you couldn’t be the reason he stayed.

Michael brought your hand to his lips and kissed the top of your knuckles gently, making you give a faint, weak smile.

He rubbed your hand one last time before standing, taking one last look at you. Then he turned toward Jack.

Jack gave him a knowing look and patted him on the shoulder. “I’ve got this from here.”

Michael gave a small nod and headed toward the door, ready to face his ER.

—

You’d been at the hospital for five hours. It was around six o’clock now, and you were more than ready to go home. They’d run tests, done scans, monitored you—cleared you for discharge once someone could take you.

You’d spent the last hour going over names in your head, trying to think of someone who might help. But every name came with a built-in reason not to call. Obligations. Distance. Unspoken tension. Complicated pasts.

You found yourself making excuses for people before you even reached out—talking yourself out of asking for help, telling yourself it wasn’t fair to burden them.

And so you lay there. 

“We called your mom earlier, like you asked,” Princess said gently, pulling up a file on the computer from a previous ER visit. Her eyes scanned the screen as she looked up the emergency contact info. “She knows what’s going on. She wanted me to tell you she’s coming as soon and as fast as she can.”

Princess continued, “Is there anyone else I should call? I have one listed here... Aiden Carter.”

“Could you take him off my emergency contacts?”

Princess glanced up, her expression softening with understanding, but there was a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Okay,” she said gently. “I’ll update that for you.”

Princess nodded without hesitation and tapped the screen to update your emergency contact. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, quiet but attentive.

“If you change your mind about calling anyone else or need anything else, just let me know,” she said softly, her voice steady and reassuring.

You gave a small, grateful nod as the Princess offered you a gentle smile and quietly stepped out of the room.

Moments later, the door creaked open again.

“Hey,” Michael said from the doorway, his voice soft—careful.

You turned slightly toward him on the bed, your body still heavy with exhaustion. “Hi.”

Michael leaned against the doorway, eyes scanning your face, searching for something—answers, reassurance, anything. His voice dropped, quiet but laced with tension.

“They haven’t been able to reach him?”

He meant Aiden.

Michael had already been thinking about it—about Aiden’s absence. The fact that he wasn’t by your side. That he hadn’t come rushing in. That he hadn’t even bothered to answer his damn phone.

Michael was angry. No—he was furious.

He’d seen all kinds of heartbreak in the ER: people forgotten, abandoned, left waiting too long by the ones who were supposed to love them. But seeing you in that position?

It twisted something sharp inside him.

You were lying in that bed—hurt, alone—and the one person who should have shown up hadn’t even answered his phone.

Michael clenched his jaw, trying to hold back the storm rising in his chest. 

He didn’t know you weren’t together anymore.

But that didn’t stop him from being furious on your behalf.

“No,” you said quietly. “Because Princess didn’t call him. She won’t—because we’re not together anymore.”

Michael froze. “Oh.” That was all he could muster—no apology, no immediate response.

The storm in his chest stilled, replaced by a sudden, hollow quiet.

Part of him was overjoyed—fucking finally, he thought. But then the questions crashed in.

How long has it been?Why didn’t you say anything?Was it recent?

His eyes flicked over your face, searching for any sign of heartbreak—anger, sadness, regret—but you looked… calm. Tired, yes. But unphased. You didn’t seem broken by it.

Still, now wasn’t the time for questions. He knew you’d talk about everything when the time was right—like he’d said.

“Is anyone coming?”

"My mom,” you murmured. “She lives out of state. It’s going to be a while.”

Right now, you need rest. Comfort. Something steady.

And he could do that. He would do that.

Michael stepped into the room, making his way towards you.

He reached out gently, brushing a loose strand of hair from your forehead. His fingers lingered for a second—light, tentative, reverent.

“We'll go home” he said, voice low but sure. “Once my shift’s up—in about an hour—I’ll get you discharged, and we’ll go. Okay?”

You blinked up at him, lips parting like you might protest—but nothing came out. You didn’t have the strength. Not to argue. Not to pretend.

“Okay,” you said, barely above a whisper.

You nodded faintly, your eyes already starting to drift shut again. The adrenaline was fading, and now the weight of everything—your body, your thoughts, your heart—was settling in.

Then, slowly, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips were warm.

He straightened with a quiet exhale, his gaze still fixed on you.

Then he turned and walked to the door. He hesitated, glanced back once more, and with careful fingers, closed it quietly, gently.

Tags: @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere@beebeechaos@antisocialfiore@delicatetrashtree@xxxkat3xxx@homebytheharbor@woodxtock@letstryagaintomorrow@livingavilaloca@elkitot@annabellee88@hagarsays@emma8895eb @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing @jazzimac1967@lafemme-nk @kmc1989@whos6claire@harrysgothicbitch@trustme3-13@qardasngan@silas-aeiou@k3ndallroy@ohmystrawberrycheesecake@ay0nha@404creep @dantemorenatalie @obfuscateyummy@steviebbboi@alliegc28@catmomstyles3@ardentistella@madprincessinabox@circumspectre@the-one-with-the-grey-color@thatchickwiththecamera@violetswritingg @valutfromlune @baileythepenguin @capj-1437@airgoddess@nah2991@interestellarprincess@laurensfilm@peachjellyy@aj3684@sorryimstupidrn@escapingjune @robbyslittlelamb @nicisthename92 @littlezee80 @lucidanne @spooky-librarian-ghost @the-salty-asian @lonelyheartsm @lovelyjulieee @memoriesat30 @glamorizethechaos

Across The Hall | (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10)

[dragonsondragons]

Self Care - Jack Abbot x Resident!Reader

Summary: Jack’s new girlfriend takes self care really seriously given the line of work they’re in. He starts to observe these habits and some of them rub off on him.

Tags: Super fluffy, no use of y/n, implied age gap, suggested sexual activity, no real smut just Jack feeling you up a little, beekeeper!Jack

Author’s Note: Why am I obsessed with beekeeper!jack. There may be more where this came from because I had so much fun with this one– perhaps Jack and reader gardening (wink wink) while in their garden? Leads to sweet and slow stoned sex? Let me know what you think or if you have any requests! I’m always looking for more ideas. 

Also, fill out this google form if you'd like to be added to my taglist :)

You do your little stretching routine after you wake up and you ask him if he wants to join you. He gives it a try, reluctantly at first. Then he starts to realize how good it makes him feel and does it with you every time. 

“What's this pep in your step you got going on here, brother?” Robby notices one day at hand-off. “Something to do with your favorite resident? Or should I say…new lady friend,” he does a little jazz hands.

“I regret ever telling you about us,” Jack rolls his eyes at lady friend. “But yeah, actually. She’s got me stretching when we wake up,” he explains.

“Ah. She’s got you whipped is what you mean.”

Jack chuckles under his breath. “Fuck off, stretching is good for you. And being whipped isn’t so bad either.” ____

You have a little garden that you tend to in the morning as the sun’s still rising right when you get off shift. It's cathartic, to take care of something that can't puke or bleed on you. Can’t punch you in the face. 

Both you and Jack had worked last night and it was a tough one. One of those nights where it felt like you lost more than you saved. You asked Jack to come back to your place after the shift ended, just wanting to be near him after your hell of a day. 

It was still early in your relationship, you had only spent the night at Jack’s place. This was his first time coming to stay at yours. 

You could tell he was so exhausted that you offered to drive home and he eventually accepted. He sat in the passenger seat of his Tacoma with his eyes closed as you drove, envisioning a shower, you looking soft in a ratty old t-shirt, and eating take out on the couch before going to sleep.

Instead, after you made two mugs of tea and set one before him on the coffee table, you headed to the backyard, slipping through the sliding glass door with a quiet “be right back, have to take care of some stuff real quick.”

After you’re gone more than 10 minutes and he almost dozed off twice, he started to wonder what this stuff was. He peeks out the glass door, seeing you knelt down at the edge of a garden bed peeling weeds out of the ground around your plants. The garden hose was on, filling up a big watering can to your left.

He comes to stand next to your kneeling form, placing a tender hand on the crown of your head and lightly running his fingers through your hair. “What are you doing, baby?”

“Checking on the plants. It helps me clear my mind from the day.” You smile softly up at him, see his free hand rub at his weary eyes. “Why don’t you go hop in the shower, I’ll be right in," you promise. He nods, turns to head back inside. 

He couldn’t believe you wanted to be pulling weeds and lugging watering cans after a shift. But when you trailed in a few minutes later, joining him under the spray of the water, he could see the way your shoulders were looser. You were more peaceful, at ease. It made him feel more calm too, just knowing you felt a little bit better. 

He started lugging bags of soil for you the following mornings. Dug up trenches to lay a new irrigation system for the crops. This time of spring brought so many birds tweeting around in the morning air, the perfect sound track to your calming moments together in the garden.

It was a peaceful endeavor, one Jack never thought he would find himself doing but turns out he absolutely loves it. After you tell him about the benefits of pollinators he really wants to start keeping bees (Jack Abbot is beekeeping age). He does all this research about it to make sure he doesn’t fuck with the bees, wants to do it right. Gets the whole mesh suit which you can't stop laughing at the first time he puts it on. Names his hive Beetopia. He's serious about these bees and you find it so endearing. You love that he's meshing into your life like this, making his own niche in something you both do together.

Sometimes when there isn’t much to be done he’ll make breakfast while you tend to the garden. He will always try to utilize the fruits and vegetables you grow as well as his self-harvested honey whenever he can. You eat it out on the patio, admiring the work the two of you have done. Your own little paradise. ____

Out of all the self care tactics that you have brought into his life, the bubble bath is definitely one of his sleeper favorites. His house had a huge bathtub in it that he never once used. One of the first times you stayed over, you went to use the bathroom before going to bed. His eyes were already closed when he heard you squeal in the en suite attached to his room. 

“How did you not tell me about this!” you yelled out to him. 

“What, the bathroom?” he responded half asleep and confused. You came back into the room and jumped into the bed next to him, resting your chin on his chest. He peeked his eyes open as he rubbed up and down your back.

“No! That massive tub, genius!” He was surprised. Hadn’t thought once about that thing since he moved in. 

“You like it?”

“I don't like it, Jack. I love it. Baths are so soothing and rejuvenating. I always feel like a newborn baby when I get out of the bath. And I don't have a tub at my place.”

“You’re welcome to use it anytime you want, honey.” He shifted you to your side, cuddling into you and kissing your cheek. 

“You’re too good to me. And as a reward I’m making you get in there with me.” he lets out a breath of a laugh as he drifts off to sleep with you in his arms. ___

You both had the next day off, for once. So there was no time like the present to christen Jack’s bathtub. He was nervous about getting in, not being able to wear his prosthetic to keep him stable, but you got in first and held onto him tight as he stepped over the edge and eased himself down into the water. You settled in front of him, letting out a breath as you melted back into him. 

You thought you liked baths already, but this was pure bliss. His strong body against you, your breaths synching up. He washed your hair and you washed his. The warm water soothed his achy back and the overcompensating muscles in his leg. 

Safe to say, baths become a regular occurrence for you two.

You get him a matching fluffy robe with a hood because one time he said he was jealous of how cozy you looked in yours after a bath. Once, Shen stopped by to drop off the butterfly portable ultrasound that he had borrowed and Jack answered the door in said robe. 

Jack had his stoic work face on, the grumpiness only enhanced by the fact that Shen’s visit was interrupting his time with you.

“Ha, you look like a Sith, Abbot,” Shen teased him, butterfly in one hand and a half drank Dunkin’ in the other. “Robe’d up and about to cut my hand off.” He took a loud sip of his coffee as Jack just glared at him. 

“Get out of here before I actually consider it.” He tugged the Butterfly from Shen’s grasp, about to slam the door in his face. 

“Oh c'mon Jack, that’s not very nice.” You ran up to the door and opened it further to reveal yourself. 

“Sorry John, he didn’t mean that.” 

“Yeah right.” He takes in your appearance beside Jack, wearing the same exact fuzzy robe. “Like the matchy matchy, very cute you two.” Shen pulls out his phone and snaps a picture before either of you could even process it. “That’s totally going in the group chat, dude,” he laughed. 

“Not making a good case for yourself here,” Jack muttered. Shen couldnt stop laughing, and at that you moved your hand off the door jamb and let Jack slam it shut. 

He turned to you then and let out a little chuckle at the whole ordeal. “He’s a piece of work.”

“Thought he was your favorite resident?”

“No, you're my favorite resident.” ___

Besides stretching to start the day on a good note, taking soothing baths, and tending to your garden you also do yoga sometimes to turn your mind off and tune into your body after a hectic shift. He’s still reluctant to try that one, and likes to give you your space to do the things you enjoy on your own sometimes. So he doesn't join you for that, but he loves watching you as you get ready to head to the studio. 

You always wear these skin tight, colorful matching workout sets that drive him crazy. He doesn’t mean to keep you from getting to class, but sometimes he just can’t help the temptation.

“Baby,” he draws it out in a long groan. He crossed the room to you, grabbing your hips and ghosting his hands up and down, reverently. You were trying to gather your keys and yoga mat to head out the door. “You’re killing me here with the powder blue.” The leggings hugged your ass just right. God, he was about to start drooling.

You try to squirm out of his hold to put your shoes on, but he won't budge. “Get a good look, Jack, because I gotta go. Gonna be late if I don't leave right now.” 

“Oh no, you're gonna be late already? Maybe you should just stay here with me,” he pouts suggestively. 

“Already paid for the class. Actually you did, your card’s on the account.” With your resident salary, Jack liked to treat you to things like a membership to a fancy yoga studio with free green smoothies. He loved ‘providing’ for you, even though you both knew you could be just fine by yourself. 

“Even better. I don't care about losing 30 bucks right now. Because you look way too sexy in those leggings to leave me here all alone.” He pecks your lips, then down your neck, sucking the spot where he knows will draw out a moan from you. You grasp your hand into his hair, getting lost in his efforts to entice you. 

“Let me peel these off of you,” he begs, running his fingers under the waistband of the leggings. His hands travel lower, kneading at your ass and pulling you tighter against him. “Just let me worship your beautiful body, sweetheart.”

How could you say no to that? Maybe you would miss your class, but this was a form of self care as good as any.

[luvdsc]

barbie girl.

if life is plastic (and therefore, nonbiodegradable), then it’s so not fantastic. honestly, who came up with that? regina george really should’ve googled about the new plastics economy.

or alternatively, pretty girls rule the world, and you find out that he’s (not) all that.

pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: comedy, fluff, angst ⋮ makeover + college au word count :: 24,618 words warnings :: body issues, body image, weight mentions, insecurities, beauty is a social construct, [spoiler] did something bad, people being literal scum, so much gaslighting that you can start a wildfire and j*ke gyll*nh*al should take notes, “if a man talks shit then i owe him nothing” playlist :: pretty boys (romi) ⋆ you can’t sit with us (sunmi) ⋆ i just wanna know (katherine li) ⋆ lie to girls (sabrina carpenter) ⋆ look what you made me do (taylor swift) ⋆ leftover feelings (regina song) ⋆ number one girl (rosé) + extended playlist here. author’s note :: she’s all that is one of my most favorite rom coms ever, but i’ve always been ///: at the whole makeover idea and decided to write my own version !! the idols mentioned in this fic are just characters, and how i portray them in this fic do not reflect how i actually view them or their irl personas. as always, much love to miss lana and miss moon for being my biggest cheerleaders ᥫ᭡ ↳ part of the 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 collaboration series.

i. hiya, barbie! hi, ken!

Na Jaemin does not know that you exist.

Good looking, charismatic, and popular — it’s his world, and you’re just living in it. Or something like that. You’re decently smart, somewhat funny, and not pretty enough to stand out, but not exactly hideous according to societal standards (source: those beauty quizzes in Seventeen magazine that you used to be obsessed with when you were thirteen and in desperate need of flirting tips). If he was the main lead, you’d probably be Extra #6, maybe Extra #2 on a good day.

By your calculations, the two of you should never cross paths, like two parallel lines. Wait, scratch that, you would probably never be aligned with anything that has to do with this guy. You saw him standing outside of the door of your shared accounting classroom during your fall semester, and he spent twenty five minutes editing his picture for Instagram and ended up late for the lecture. And he probably already spent even more time selecting the final photo to edit before you arrived to class and noticed him. Absolute idiot. Absolute handsome idiot, but idiot nonetheless. A grade A himbo with a grade C in financial accounting. 

Okay, so scrap the parallel lines theory, maybe skew lines are a better way of explaining it. Yeah, that seems about right, the two of you are from completely different dimensions, never meant to interact or run parallel with each other. And once again, by this logic, your paths should never cross.

“Y/N!”

You stand corrected.

Na Jaemin does know that you exist.

You suddenly remember that there was that one small group presentation in that very same aforementioned accounting class, and you were assigned to the same group as Jaemin. Armed with this rediscovered memory, you are going to revise your earlier response and say that the correct descriptor for your relationship is perpendicular lines. That sounds right. Final answer. You’re locking it in.

Your paths should have only intersected once, the two of you should be going in different directions, and even though you’re in another class with him again for spring semester this year (since all freshmen with a business major has to take the same Gen. Ed. classes), not once have the two of you had a proper conversation with each other (He asked you to pass a note one time, but that barely counts). Jaemin should have forgotten you by now, and you should be continuing on with your side character life that you’re very much content with.

So then why on earth is he shouting your name like you’re old friends and causing what feels like every person within a one mile radius to stare at you?

He’s unknowingly giving you your main character moment, and you very quickly realize that you do not feel like the Y/N in any one of those Gojo fanfics you read religiously at three in the morning when you should really be studying or sleeping.

Instead, you feel like a bug watching its impending doom as a Doc Marten boot starts to descend at an alarming speed and you can’t even try to scuttle out of the way to avoid it. Frozen in your spot, you can only watch as your university’s it boy skids to a stop in front of you after running across the grass and flashing you his million dollar smile. “Hey, Y/N, right? We have ECON 13 together.”

Starstruck, your mind to mouth filter is completely shot, and all you manage to let out is a very uncool “Uh huh.”

He laughs a little breathlessly, and you feel like all the oxygen has been knocked out of your lungs, too. Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, Jaemin tilts his head to the side slightly, the sunlight catching his profile perfectly, and your breath hitches in your throat once more.

“I know this is gonna sound really, uh, forward since we barely know each other and all, but—”

You’re barely listening to him, your heart pounding in your chest and the blood rushing to your ears. It’s pretty embarrassing to see how a mere stranger with a pretty face can affect you this much. You really thought you had a much stronger willpower than this, but it’s so goddamn unfair how this boy standing in front of you has the most perfectly sculpted face you’ve ever seen. Plus, his eyelashes? Why the hell do boys always get the prettiest, thickest, and darkest lashes? 

Meanwhile, you’re out here struggling to force your perpetually straight, stubby lashes into a curl that ends up lasting only a couple hours, even when you use waterproof mascara. You still end up with flat lashes and you have to feverishly scrub your eyes to remove the blasted makeup and lose a few cherished lashes in the process.

“—with me?” Jaemin finishes, and you belatedly realize that you did not catch a single word that he said, too caught up in your inner monologue and too busy ogling. However, your heart flutters in your chest when you catch the last part of his question. Not to be too presumptuous, but it sounds like he’s asking you out. Why else would anyone randomly stop you like this and talk to you for this long? You’re positively giddy at this revelation. This is your moment, the one you’ve been waiting for your whole life, like Rapunzel waiting in her tower for the one to come and save her from her horribly mundane, repetitive life.

“Oh! Um… yes?” It’s a 50/50 chance between yes or no, and you hope that’s the correct answer he’s looking for. 

Jaemin’s face immediately brightens, and he turns his smile up another kilowatt, nearly blinding you. You grin back at him, squinting a little. This must be how Icarus felt when he flew towards the sun. 

“Oh shit, really? You’re really agreeing to tutor me? Hyuck—you know, our class’s peer TA—said I was a hopeless cause, and I would need way more one on one lessons outside of his hours and all that if I wanted to pass. And yeah, I know I could probably bitch at him until he caves since we’re kind of friends, but he would also hold this over my head, but he said you had the highest score on last week’s practice midterm, so I thought, ‘hey, why not shoot my shot?’” He directs another smile your way, pausing for a quick breath. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, and his smile isn’t helping whatsoever as your heart decides to join in this race as well until it sinks when you finally process his words.

“Wait, Donghyuck said that about me?” you manage to get out, a little dazed, and Jaemin confirms before eagerly continuing on with his chatter, but all you can do is stupidly nod as the word “TUTOR” spins around and around in your mind in bold, italicized, underlined mocking red letters in Times New Roman font, size 12, double spaced, MLA format, the whole shebang.

Of course, he only wants a tutor. What made you think that a boy like him would look twice at a girl like you? The only other time a guy has ever expressed interest in you is to share homework answers for Calculus back in 10th grade (For the record, all of his answers were completely wrong, but Sungchan was a cute distraction. Actually, the two of you became very good friends once you very quickly got over the fact that you were firmly placed in the friendzone. He’s even dating one of your best friends now).

“Anyways, can I have your number? I can text you to match our schedules and figure out the times to meet up for the next couple of weeks before our next midterm.” You remain wide eyed, gazing at him like a deer caught in the headlights and still attempting to fully understand everything that has just happened.

Jaemin looks at you expectantly, his hand outstretched towards you with his phone tucked between his fingers. The device dangles there for an additional ten seconds that probably isn’t socially acceptable. Grab the phone, you scream at yourself silently, but your body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. You blink slowly once. Then twice.

“Or, I can just… uh, type in your number if you tell me,” Jaemin says awkwardly, his smile wilting slightly as he shifts from one foot to the other under your unwavering gaze and slowly retracting his hand. Finally, you come to your senses as you quickly spring into action and snatch the phone from him, tapping in your digits and adding in your name and shared class before saving your contact.

“Here,” you mutter, returning his phone, and he gives you a relieved grin. You clutch onto the strap of your backpack a little tighter, cursing the way your heart skips a beat. “I should be free most weekday afternoons since I prefer to take all morning classes, but let me know when you’re free and we can work something out.”

“Awesome! Thank you so much, Y/N, you’re a life saver.” Jaemin beams at you, touching your shoulder briefly and you feel that very same place on your body erupt in flames as your face heats up in a similar manner. “I’ll text you tonight, yeah?”

You can only numbly nod, subconsciously raising your hand and waving at him, and Jaemin chuckles, flashing his pearly whites at you again, before he saunters off and blends into a group of other equally pretty and popular students, a few of whom look over at you with vague interest before turning their attention back to the boy who just joined them.

What have you gotten yourself into?

ii. you want to go for a ride?

“I’m getting sus vibes from him.”

Flicking her long dark hair over her shoulder, Lana takes a long sip of her wintermelon milk tea with honey pearls, a spitting image of that one infamous Starbucks meme of your school’s alumni, Hyungwon (His picture can still be found floating through discord chats, and you’re ninety percent sure your school used it in one of their recruitment brochures at one point). She’s sprawled out on the beanbag in the corner of your shared apartment’s living room, her HP laptop covered in sailor moon stickers balanced across her thighs (She swears HP is the best laptop brand, but you don’t trust electronics advice from anyone who can’t even use a toaster properly).

“Have you even spoken to Jaemin? How exactly are you getting sus vibes from him?” Moon jumps in, glancing over the top of her MacBook as she takes a quick break from her latest coding project regarding polynomials, matrices, and a bunch of other math terminology you rather not think about. You left all that arithmetic jargon back in high school after you got a 5 on both AP calculus exams and got to skip all required math classes for your accounting major (Sungchan wasn’t so lucky).

“He’s a fratboy finance major.” Lana rolls her eyes.

“Point taken, but weren’t you into that senior, Jaehyun? He’s one of them. You called him your soulmate,” you interject, and she splutters for a few seconds before putting her hand up in protest.

“Listen, I was going through a perpetual mental breakdown at the beginning of this semester. It doesn’t count. You try being a pharmacy major. Thank god I switched out to English. My mental state was compromised, and I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“What do you mean not thinking straight? Lana, you literally chose the straightest, most heterosexual man out there.” Moon jibes, closing her laptop now with an air of conceding defeat. You have to give her props for trying to work on some assignments, but you already knew no one was going to get any work done tonight. It’s a Thursday night anyway, which means you have until Tuesday to get all the homework assigned today done. You can always work on them on Monday night and inevitably curse yourself for not getting it done earlier when you end up pulling an all nighter and show up to your 8 a.m. international marketing tactics class with raccoon eyes. 

“This is bullying, and we are on an anti-bullying campus,” Lana complains, giving the two of you the stink eye before leaning over and lightly shoving the snoozing boy sprawled across the floor next to her. “Wake up, Yang. Moon and Y/N gang up on me when you’re not awake to absorb all our gentle bullying.”

The boy in question sits upright, bleary eyes and the drying ink from his notes now decorating his cheek, a lasting reminder of the makeshift pillow for his impromptu nap. Yawning, he stretches his arms, rubbing his face and making an even bigger mess of smears. “What’d I miss?”

“We were just discussing Lana‘s tragic crush on Jaehyun last year,” you say, and she makes a strangled noise next to you. “Were you up late sewing again?”

“Yes,” Yangyang grumbles, “You would think Kaneki would be so easy to cosplay since he wears all black, but the mask is taking forever to make.”

“Can’t one of your sugar daddies buy one for you?”

“What sugar daddies? If I had one, I wouldn’t be stuck in here trying to balance equations,” he moans, crumpling up another sheet filled up with scribbles and his latest attempts at answering the second to last problem for organic chemistry.

“My bad, I thought you would have some from your cosplay account.” Moon shrugs, rummaging through her large soccer mom purse for a snack and triumphantly pulling out a box of green tea Hello Pandas. “You have like 100k followers on there.”

“My audience demographic is weebs.” Yangyang deadpans. “How many weebs do you know who are rich enough to send five thousand dollars every week to a struggling college student?”

“Wait, we’re going off topic right now. What do you know about Jaemin, Yang?” Lana cuts in, and Moon nods in agreement (You try not to look too interested, but fail miserably, no doubt).

“Jaemin Na? I’ve never talked to him personally, but there’s always stories about him and his friends. Jeno is on the baseball team and notorious for his body count. He’s the one that takes up like 30% of our university’s anonymous confessions Twitter account. This is his insta, but he’s not really active on social media.” Yangyang passes his phone around for the three of you to see Jeno’s Instagram. There’s a whopping total of fourteen posts, and every picture of him with someone of the opposite sex features a different girl. Instant red flag.

“Lia is pretty big on Tik Tok,” Yangyang continues, grabbing his phone to pull up her account to show all of you. “She’s pretty and is actually really good at singing, but she's basically trying to be the next Addison Rae. Jimin models, and she’s going by Karina nowadays. I heard she tried to trademark that name or something. She posts dancing Tik Toks. She and Yeonjun collab a lot. He walks for New York fashion week and has a Tik Tok for dancing, too. I’m like 70% sure they’re only dating to boost their views. Somi is the most popular one out of them. She’s the blonde one. She’s pretty talented and I heard she signed onto the same company as the Blackpink House. She’s even done a makeup video with Vogue recently.”

“And Jaemin has a pretty large social following. He takes decent pictures, and that’s what he insists his insta is for, but let’s be real, the majority of his followers are there for his face. You should see his TikTok. He literally just recorded himself looking at the camera and put some generic caption, and he racked up like seven hundred thousand likes,” Yangyang grumbles, pulling up his account to show you all the video in question. “Like literally, what the hell is this? I have to put in so many hours making my outfits and editing my videos and all he does is smile and paste ‘Don’t have a valentine again… hope this will change soon’ on top, and the preteens are foaming at the mouth.”

“Wow, jumpscare warning next time you show me him please.” Lana wrinkles her nose at the repeating offensive clip. Yangyang merely shoves his phone even closer to her in response, and she flips him off.

“Hey, you’re the one who asked about him. Why are you suddenly interested in him? Is this your Jaehyun 2.0 phase starting up?” Yangyang grins, and Lana flicks his forehead in retaliation.

“Shut up, when are you guys gonna let that die? Besides, it’s Y/N who’s interested, not me,” Lana retorts, and immediately, the spotlight is back on you. You cough awkwardly, feeling a bit uncomfortable with all the attention.

“Uh, he just asked if I would tutor him…”

“And you said yes?” Yangyang sounds scandalized and utterly betrayed. “Why would you willingly fraternize with the enemy like that?”

“What enemy? I didn’t even know he knew I existed until this very recent development occurred.” 

“Influencers like him are instant enemies to me, and as my friend, he’s your enemy by association. I can't believe you’re helping the competition,” Yangyang sniffs.

You don’t have the guts to tell them all that the only reason you accepted his tutor proposal is because you got ahead of yourself and despite all the odds and signs, thought Jaemin was asking you out. You know your friends won’t make fun of you (too badly), but that is completely humiliating, and you will be taking that to the grave.

“It’s just tutoring, don’t be so dramatic,” you scoff, making a face at him. “He texted me yesterday, and we’re meeting up at the library later today, and I reserved a private study room for two hours.”

“Oooh, so it’s a study date?” Moon teases, and your cheeks betray you with the amount of heat now emanating off of them.

“Shut up, it’s literally just tutoring. We’re going over supply and demand curves.” 

“No, back up, he texted you yesterday and you didn’t tell us about him until today?” Lana interjects, holding up her hand and putting on a faux offended expression. “What kind of friend are you? We’re supposed to tell each other every nitty gritty detail about our love lives! Like Sungchan texts Moon good morning texts at eight in the morning, and by 8:30 a.m., we’re already getting a play by play about it in the group chat!”

Moon turns pink and opens her mouth before deciding against it and quietly shuts it. Yangyang silently laughs next to Lana, his shoulders shaking (You decide that you shouldn’t tell them Jaemin actually asked you in person to tutor him three days ago or else, Lana will chew you out even more).

You protest, flailing your arms around slightly in exasperation. “There’s literally zero development in my love life! I have nothing going on in it, and I can guarantee you that he does not see me in that light whatsoever.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” Lana looks wholly unconvinced, and your two friends look back and forth between the two of you like two kids watching their divorced parents fight. “So… Do you need help picking out an outfit for tomorrow?”

“… Yeah.”

iii. sure, ken. jump in!

“Hey, Y/N!” 

Jaemin loudly whispers a little breathlessly as he drops his bag onto the table and slumps into the chair next to yours, his chest heaving slightly. Startled, you jerk up in your chair, heart skipping a beat when you realize he’s here. You were supposed to be in a private study room, but there was a group of boys already in there, and as the most non-confrontational person to walk this earth, you decided to cut your losses and take a table nearby.

“Did you wait long? I got caught up outside the library when Somi stopped me and completely forgot,” he says apologetically, pulling out his textbooks, and you shake your head, giving him a shy smile.

“No, it’s alright. I was already here anyway, and I got some extra studying done.” You gesture towards the papers and notebooks strewn across the table’s surface, covered in your notes from today’s classes. “Should we start with today’s lesson? How much did you understand in class today?”

“Maybe the first five minutes of it only.”

You pause, glancing over at him. “Professor Hwang was ten minutes late to class.”

“Exactly.” Jaemin nods, and you stifle a laugh. He grins at you. “I don’t think you realize how much of a hopeless cause I am when you agreed to tutor me.”

“We can start from the beginning then. You have four weeks until the midterm, and we can go through every lesson we’ve had so far. I’ll make up a study schedule if you give me yours. And if you continue to go to Donghyuck’s tutoring hours too, you should hopefully be able to catch up and do well on the midterm.”

Jaemin wordlessly pulls up his class schedule on his phone, and you plug them into a Google calendar that you quickly share to his email. “So, I color coded your classes in green, and my classes are in pink. Do you have any other things that we need to work around?”

He peers over at your screen, scanning the contents. “I have my weekly frat meetings on Tuesday nights and mandatory events on other nights.”

“Alright, you can put them in and we’ll figure out meeting times,” you say, pushing your laptop towards him and he starts to add in his extracurricular activities.

 “Party from 8 pm to 1 am?” you read skeptically, your eyes scanning over the event he tacked in under this week’s Friday.

“Yeah, can’t miss it,” Jaemin says, typing in more events and making sure to color code them in blue. “Don’t you have things to do on Friday night too?”

“Uh, maybe grab a poke bowl from the dining hall to go and watch another Banana Fish episode,” you say awkwardly, fiddling with the small Gojo keychain you have attached to your pouch.

Jaemin stops, looking over at you. “You watch Banana Fish?”

Your cheeks grow warm. “… Yeah, why?” 

His eyes light up and he asks eagerly, “Did you see the latest episode? When Golzine leaves Arthur in charge?”

The two of you continue discussing the plot as he finishes up adding in his schedule for the next four weeks, finally nudging the laptop back towards you. “Do you need to add in your stuff too?”

“Mm no, it’s fine. I already put in my classes, and I’m not in any clubs or sororities,” you answer, making sure to input Donghyuck’s tutoring hours as well before scanning over the calendar and pinpointing areas where he’s free for at least one to two hours. “Okay, should we start with meeting three times a week?”

“Huh, you memorized Hyuck’s hours?” Jaemin notes, giving you a sly smile as he moves closer to look at the schedule.

“Huh? No, don’t you always know your professors’ and TAs’ office hours?” you ask, looking up and are immediately startled after underestimating the proximity between you and the beautiful boy next to you. 

“No, I’m not a nerd,” he snorts lightly, and you laugh awkwardly, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction and put a little more distance between the two of you before you go into cardiac arrest, “Right, yeah, well, anyway—”

“You were also interested when I said Hyuck mentioned you before,” Jaemin says suddenly, sitting up straight before a wide grin spreads across his face as he loudly exclaims, “You totally have a crush on him!”

“Quiet down!” You immediately shush him, the tips of your ears burning as everyone within a 40 feet radius in the library is now staring at the two of you. You’ve never received this much attention before, and you very quickly realize that you absolutely hate it. You loudly whisper-protest, stumbling over your words in a panic, “I—I don’t have a crush on him!”

“Oh, come on, your face is getting hot and you’re stuttering. You do too like him,” Jaemin laughs softly, propping his elbow onto the table and resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he gives you a once over. “I could totally make you into his type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask hotly, cheeks burning even more when you feel his eyes graze over your figure.

“Oh, it’ll be so much fun. We can go to the mall and pick out some cute clothes for you, and then swing by the hair shop. You’re definitely using the wrong conditioner and shampoo,” Jaemin continues, eying your hair for a quick second.

“Wait, wait, we’re just here for tutoring, what are you even talking about?” You ask, bewildered before grasping a stray strand of your hair between your fingers. “And what do you mean I’m using the wrong shampoo?”

“And conditioner,” Jaemin pipes up, picking up his phone to search up some better brands he would recommend. “What have you been using? 2 in 1 Head and Shoulders?”

“No,” you huff softly, your ears growing even warmer at the accusation. “I just use whatever my mom buys in bulk at Costco.”

“Okay, well, you should use this instead,” Jaemin says, showing his phone screen to you, and your eyes widen slightly when you note the price tag.

“I cannot be forking over nearly seventy dollars on shampoo and conditioner,” you say incredulously, pushing his phone back towards him and waving your hand dismissively. “And there’s no way I’m going to spend even more money on new clothes.”

“Okay, fine, I think I have some unopened bottles from sponsored deals that I can give to you,” Jaemin sighs, opening up his text messages to find his friends’ group chat. “Or my friends would have some good ones, too. Maybe we can get you some of their free clothes from sponsorships, too.”

“You guys just get free clothes?” 

“Yeah,” he shrugs, glancing over at you. “On second thought, Karina and Lia aren’t the same size as you, so you won’t fit them. We can just order some basic pieces online or something for starters.”

“We—We aren’t doing this,” you loudly whisper back to him, hyper aware of the other students around you who keep glancing over at Jaemin. “Let’s just focus on making this schedule and helping you pass your midterm.”

“Oh, please, doll, it’d be fun. Just think of it as a payment for your tutoring,” Jaemin persuades you, scooting closer to you and pressing his thigh against yours lightly. Your breath hitches in your throat at the pet name and his touch. You’ve never been this close to any boy before, let alone one as attractive as Jaemin.

“You’ll look so pretty, I know the perfect outfits to make for you. And I can teach you how to get Hyuck’s attention, too,” he continues, nudging you lightly, and you’re still dazed, unable to get over the fact that he’s impossibly close to you, close enough for you to count the pretty lashes framing his even prettier eyes. You wonder what it’s like to be that beautiful, what it’s like to have people falling at your feet, what it’s like to mesmerize everyone the second you walk into a room.

Honestly, if Jaemin asked you to jump, your only response would be “how high.”

“If I agree to this, will you finally pay attention?” you sigh, and Jaemin instantly brightens up, nodding and giving you another one of those smiles that makes your stomach flip flop. Your Achilles’ heel is one very persistent boy who goes by the name of Na Jaemin, and he has hit you with a direct bullseye.

“Yes, I’ll be a model student, doll.”

You hesitate for a split second before relenting. “Okay, fine, deal.”

iv. i’m a barbie girl in the barbie world.

Jaemin is easy on the eyes, but currently proving to be very difficult for your nerves during your fourth tutoring session. Your wardrobe has increased in style and size by now, and you’re dressed in a pretty lilac top that wraps around you and accentuates your curves and hides what needs to be hidden perfectly. Your jeans may dig a little more than you’d like into your stomach, but it’s your fault that you chose to wear your photo jeans instead of your sitting jeans. Also, your hair has never looked better, all thanks to the boy seated next to you.

“No, when there is a low supply, there’s a high demand. They directly affect each other,” you try to re-explain to the boy next to you, drawing out the line graph once again. He stares down at the familiar graph before looking at the written practice problem in front of him. Professors must have an insane amount of patience, you silently think to yourself. 

You sigh. “Let’s put it this way. You and Jeno want to buy the same shirt, but there’s only one left in the right size. So that’s two people who are demanding the one shirt. And the store only has one shirt in its supply. So how would you describe this situation?”

“Oh.” The look of realization flashes across Jaemin’s face as your example easily snaps the puzzle pieces into place for him. “There’s a high demand and low supply. Too many people want the shirt, but there’s not enough shirts.”

“Yes, you got it!” You cheer quietly, mindful of your location at one of the library’s tables. “Now try reading through the practice problems and draw the appropriate supply and demand graphs for each one.”

 “And when I’m done with this, we can take a break, and I’ll teach you how to do makeup. My friends will help,” Jaemin says idly as he reads through the first problem again. 

Your stomach lurches slightly at that, and you hesitate. “Your friends?”

“Yeah, you know, Jeno, Karina, Lia, and Yeonjun. Somi, too, but she’s been busy. I can teach you basic skincare and makeup, but the girls will have to help you with the rest,” he says casually, scrawling down his first answer and the corresponding graph.

You swallow hard, your voice croaking slightly before you hastily clear it. “Are you sure? Do you think they’ll like me?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, doll. You’re like a puppy, and everyone likes those,” Jaemin mumbles idly, eyebrows furrowing as he rereads the second problem.

“A puppy?” You don’t know whether to be offended or not yet.

Oh, you know, just that you’re cute and all,” Jaemin laughs lightly, starting to write down his next answer, and your heart nearly stops in your chest. You force yourself to breathe regularly again.

“Oh, I see,” you start to answer coolly, but stuttering on the last word, internally cursing your tongue at the last stumble. You try to sit calmly and relax for the rest of the tutoring session as Jaemin slowly makes his way through the practice packet, but the knot in your stomach continues to tangle even more, growing ever bigger. Maybe you should just tell Jaemin that lunch didn’t agree with you and cut this meetup short. 

But that means less time spent with Jaemin. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Jaemin is nice, so his friends should be as well, you reason with yourself. There’s no need to be nervous. Even if they’re all incredibly beautiful, hot people with the most unapproachable aura you have ever encountered.

Like honestly, how is someone like Karina even real? Her face could start a modern day equivalent of the Trojan War. She is literally the face blueprint for every main female character you play in your otome games.

Turns out, Karina is even more gorgeous up close. Ridiculously close with the way she’s inches from your face as she swipes on some blush on the apples of your cheeks. You never thought you’d see the resident it girl here for you, standing in the middle of your dorm room, let alone have an actual conversation with her that extended beyond a polite hello when she stops by for Giselle. It’s already been 45 minutes, and your nerves still haven’t calmed down.

“You just need to apply a little bit here and here on both your cheeks,” she instructs you, pointing towards your cheekbones and carefully applying the rosy powder to the same areas. She pauses in the application momentarily so that you can type out a few notes into your phone covering her directions. “You can go heavier if you want the cute sunburn, Sabrina Carpenter look, but if you do too much, you’ll end up looking like my ex.”

“What?” You’re startled, glancing over at her and nearly getting blinded once again by her lethal face card. She laughs lightly, giving you a slight smile. “A clown.” 

“Oh, got it,” you chuckle, albeit nervously, shooting her a quick smile. “I’ll make sure to not do that.”

“Relax, it’s easy. Just a bit of makeup here and there, and you’ll be fine. All I do is some mascara, falsies, and a good lippie when I’m lazy, and I’m out the door in ten minutes,” Lia jumps in, holding several different tubes of lip tints.

“Are you sure? That’s really it?” You ask hesitantly, glancing over the various makeup products strewn over your desk. It looks a lot more complicated than what she had just described.

“Well, maybe you might need a bit more, like concealer and foundation. And some bronzer and heavy contouring. But just stick to the skincare routine and it’ll help lessen it,” Karina sighs, dabbing some highlighter to the tip of your nose before seeing the uncertain look in your eyes, adding hastily, “But it’s so worth it, trust. You’ll look so pretty, and it comes with so many perks. Girl math is knowing you can go out with no money and just your face card.”

“Hey, you’re friends with Yangyang?” Lia pipes up, noticing the photo strip you have pinned on your corkboard, nestled between the various Mystic Messenger Seven fanart and Zorro art prints.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I am. You know him?” You answer, and she nods before leaning in and evenly applying a thin layer of periwinkle tint on your lips. “Yeah, we’re in the same German class. Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”

Well, you definitely can’t tell her about the raging heart on he has for his best friend, but it’s not like he really is seeing anyone either. You do vaguely remember Yangyang saying Lia was pretty and talented during his quick 5 minute minute class to Jaemin and his friends, so it’s not like he hates her either.

“No, he’s not,” you answer, hoping you made the right choice, and Lia’s face visibly brightens. “Oh, really? That’s great.”

“Okay, we’re done.” Karina announces, stepping back and holding up a mirror for you. “Not bad, right?”

“Oh, wow,” you suck in a breath, nearly gasping in surprise as you peer at the glass. You almost don’t recognize yourself. The contouring lifts up your face, slimming it down, and the blush gives you a pretty pink hue that makes you look sun kissed. Your lower lashes have nearly doubled in length with the mascara, giving you a pretty babydoll look. Karina had perfectly applied a set of falsies for you, framing your eyes delicately, and the shimmery eyeshadow and soft winged eyeliner accentuates your eyes even more. Your lips are the prettiest shade of pink, tinted and glossy.

You can’t believe it is your own reflection staring back at you.

“Now put this outfit on,” Lia says with a knowing smile, placing a shopping bag in your lap. “Jaemin picked it out.”

“Oh, really? Alright,” you manage to mumble out, dazed and still admiring yourself in the hand mirror. Karina laughs softly, nudging Lia before moving towards your door. “We have to get to a sorority meeting now, but I hope you like it, doll. And make sure to practice.”

“I love it,” you say breathlessly, grazing your fingertips against the cool glass, still in disbelief. “And I definitely will practice.”

“Mm, good, text us if you need any help! And send progress pics! We want to see how it’s going,” Lia answers, waving over her shoulder before the two of them exit your dorm. Sitting there alone, you stare at your reflection for a little longer, admiring yourself. You feel so pretty. 

You finally remember the paper bag on your lap, and you immediately dig into it, pulling out a flowy floral sundress. It’s beautiful, and you quickly tug off your jeans and tshirt before going to your drawers to dig around for the appropriate bra for the dress. You manage to find it, snapping on the bra around yourself from the front before twisting it until the clasp is against your back. You hastily push your arms through the straps, tugging on either side until it’s on perfectly. You suck in a quick breath, internally preparing yourself for the battle with the next piece of clothing, a.k.a. your worst enemy: spandex. You’ve familiarized yourself with the awkward jig you have to do around your dorm until you’ve wriggled into the tight elastic enough so that it sits in the correct spot and sucks in all the right places.

At last, you won the war, but you feel sweaty now, flopping back onto your bed for a quick break. You flap your hands in front of your face, thanking whoever decided to invent setting spray. You grab your deodorant spray and douse yourself in a heavy dose of it before picking up the sundress and slipping it over your head. To your great relief, it slides on perfectly, and you quickly shuffle over to the full length mirror hanging on the back of your door. You straighten out the dress and quickly pat down any strand of hair knocked askew from your latest struggles before giving a smile to the mirror.

Dare you say it? You look pretty.

You’ve never looked this pretty before.

You happily take out the dainty gold heart necklace you had carefully tucked into your top desk drawer, struggling for a few seconds before you manage to clasp it around your neck. You quickly pull the pendant towards the front before slipping on the strappy sandals you left next to your desk. You grab the cute purse you bought last week, now packed with the perfect essentials, and give yourself one last once over.

You have nowhere to go, but you decide to take a walk to the dining hall. After all, you’re dressed up so nicely, makeup done so perfectly, you can’t waste it on another night stuffing your face with hot Cheetos and rewatching the first season of Haikyuu!!. Opening your door, you step out and nearly run into someone. 

“Oh, finally, you’re done, doll. I thought you died in there or some…”

His eyes widening in utter shock, his next word dies on the tip of his tongue when Jaemin sees you standing in front of him. His mouth falls open slightly before he quickly closes it to swallow harshly, his throat running dry. He’s never seen you like this before, never imagined that you’d be this pretty. He inhales sharply, stiffening slightly as his eyes rake over your figure, seeing how the dress perfectly accentuates your figure, and settles on your face.

“Jaemin? What are you doing here?” Your eyes widen slightly before your cheeks grow warm when you notice his stunned reaction.

“Um,” he croaks out, voice cracking before he quickly swallows again, silently cursing when puberty decides to make a belated appearance. “Lia texted me that you were done, so I wanted to see how it went. You look… wow.”

Your cheeks heat up even further, and you laugh a little nervously, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “R-really? It’s not too much?”

“No!” He immediately blurts out before his cheeks flush carmine. “I—I mean, you look really good. You should dress like this more often.”

You can’t stop the smile spreading across your face, and Jaemin’s heart flip flops in his chest. “Really? Thank you, I will then.”

“Of course, really. I picked the dress myself after all,” He tries to joke before hastily clearing his throat. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

“Oh, no, I don’t. I was just going to go to the dining hall and grab some food,” you answer awkwardly, shifting your purse over your shoulder slightly and tightening your fingers around its strap.

“Let me take you out for dinner.” Jaemin blurts out, a little high pitched, mentally facepalming at how he sounds. “I mean, we can go over some of the harder problems in that packet since I probably need more studying anyway, and I’ll teach you a couple more dating tricks.”

“Sure, okay, that sounds good.” You give him a wider beam, and Jaemin feels his heart beat a little faster. Maybe you don’t need that much teaching from him after all. Seems like you’re a quick learner.

v. life is plastic, it’s fantastic!

“The only thing you’re fucking is stupid.”

“Shut the hell up, Yeonjun. At least I’m not sticking my dick in crazy.”

You watch the light argument going on between Jeno and Yeonjun in amusement. You and Jaemin had just finished your ninth tutoring session two hours ago, and you think he’s getting on track to actually scoring a decent grade for the next midterm. You were initially going to head towards Lana and Moon’s dorm for your weekly anime show marathon, but Jaemin insisted that you stop by the Alpha Sigma Psi house for a small party. Giselle and Karina are both part of that house, so you figured it couldn’t hurt to make a quick appearance. Good thing you spent some time touching up your makeup before today’s tutoring session.

“Hey, doll! Join the photo,” Jaemin calls out to you, gesturing you towards the area he and the rest of his friends are standing. You see another really pretty girl—Minjeong, was it?—standing on the side, holding up a phone and preparing to take the picture.

“Oh, no, it’s okay, I can just take the photo instead,” you laugh awkwardly, extending your hand out towards Minjeong, but Jeno gently nudges you forward, “No way, you never take pics with us. Just one, come on, Y/N.”

“Yeah, join us!” Jaemin says brightly, tugging you towards him and you stumble slightly, falling forward into his chest. You quickly catch yourself, hands suddenly pressed against his chest, and the blood rushes to your face.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you start to babble, trying to push yourself away before Jaemin quickly wraps his arm around your waist. “Nope, you’re staying here, it’s just a few pics, please, doll?”

“I—I mean, I don’t really—”

You start to say before Minjeong’s voice cuts through the air. “Okay, I’m taking it in five seconds now. So get ready and pose or be ready to live with the consequences on Insta forever.” 

Everyone immediately shuffles around, and you’re squeezed even tighter against Jaemin, and you just know that he can feel your heart pounding rapidly against his chest.

“Smile, doll,” Jaemin laughs gently, squeezing your hip lightly and you inhale sharply at that, your heart rate spiking and increasing exponentially. You muster up a few shaky smiles as the flash starts to go off.

After a few more pictures, you manage to untangle yourself from the group and hurriedly go towards Minjeong. “I can take the pictures, you should join in.”

She immediately brightens up at that, giving you a kilowatt smile as she hands you the phone and slips into your original position in between Jaemin and Karina. “Oh, thanks, Y/N.”

You wait a few moments for everyone to get readjusted before you begin to snap some photos, having already mastered this from the previous hang outs you’ve joined and knowing how to take the best angles for everyone, including all the 0.5 zoom out ones. After taking some additional group and solo photos for the girls, you’re finally free of your duties. Your eyes widen when you check the time on your phone, and you hurriedly make your way over to Jaemin.

“Hey, I need to get going now. I have to get to Lana and Moon’s dorm, so I’ll see you later,” you say quickly, already beginning to brush past him as the realization sets in that it’s been over an hour when you told your friends that you would only be fifteen minutes late.

“Wait, what? Hey, hold on, doll.” Jaemin reaches out to you, but you slip past him, calling over your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m late!”

He strides over, soon matching your pace as you speed walk back to the freshman dormitories. “Can’t you slow down a little bit? It’s not like you all haven’t seen these episodes before, plus we watched a few of them together after our last tutoring session.”

“Yeah, but I’m over an hour late,” you stress, slightly frazzled now as you hurriedly type out an apology to send to the group chat.

“Just breathe, okay? You’ll be fine. They’re your friends. They should understand,” Jaemin reassures you, grabbing your hand and you freeze slightly. He notices your stop and teases lightly, “I said slow down, not stop. What’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing,” you stammer out a little too quickly, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. He’s holding your hand. Na Jaemin is hand in hand with you, fingers intertwined. You almost want to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming.

“Well, alright then, come on, let me walk you back,” Jaemin laughs before tugging you along. “You can help me pick out which pictures to post on Insta along the way, too, yeah?”

“Oh, sure,” you say breathlessly, your heart rate quickening to an embarrassing speed when he squeezes your hand gently, and you nesrly trip over your own feet.

“Perfect, so what about this one?” He holds up his phone to show you the picture you had taken for the group earlier, and you falter slightly. Why are you feeling a little disappointed with his choice?

Jaemin notices your hesitation and says a little softly, “I know you’re a private person. So I thought you’d prefer if I posted the group photo you took. You always take the best pictures for me, too. You know my good side the best. And it’d be weird if Hyuck saw, too, right? But did you want the other photo? I mean, if you really want it, I can..?”

“No!” You hurriedly say to reassure him, squeezing his hand lightly. “No, you’re right. I don’t want my picture out there. And um, yeah, that definitely wouldn’t be good if Hyuck saw.”

Jaemin gives you a relieved smile. “Yeah, exactly. You’re not upset, right, doll? We still have that fun pic of us and our homemade pizzas from earlier that I posted on my finsta. I didn’t know making pizzas would be that easy.”

“Of course not, don’t worry about it,” you laugh softly, continuing to walk back to the freshman dormitories, and Jaemin swings your joined hands between the two of you freely.

“Mm, I’m getting free cooking and tutoring lessons in exchange for dating tips. Two for the price of one is quite the good deal for me, right?” Jaemin teases lightly, and you let out another laugh.

“You’re right, it is. You better step up your game then.”

“Oh, just you wait, you’ll get dating tips and a boyfriend, so we’ll be even,” Jaemin chuckles softly, squeezing your hand, and the butterflies erupt in your stomach once again, and you muster up the courage to say something a little more teasing.

“Is that a guarantee?”

“Well, you have a demand, and I must supply, right?”

“…I don’t think that’s how it quite goes, Jaemin. Maybe you need a few more tutoring sessions.”

“All I hear is that you want to spend more time with me,” Jaemin laughs, giving you the prettiest smile, and your cheeks warm up even more, heart stuttering in your chest. Speechless, you let him continue on, his chattering filling the air as you listen with quiet content, your hand securely tucked in his for the remainder of the walk back.

vi. you can brush my hair.

Jaemin sits on the edge of his chair across from you at the table in the dorm common area, anxiously tapping his fingers against the flat surface. You are down to the last page of the mock exam packet, carefully going over his work with a red pen. You made minimal marks on the papers, a stark contrast to the very first practice exam he had worked on near the start of your tutoring. At that point in time, he didn’t even get to the end of the exam.

“Amazing.”

You say in awe, scanning through the last problem Jaemin had completed before tallying up his final score and calculating his results. “I can’t believe it. You got an 87.”

“No fucking way,” Jaemin is wide eyed, staring at you in disbelief, and you give him a wide smile, sliding the packet over to him, so that he can look over the exam and notes you’ve written for the problems he missed. 

“Yes fucking way.”

“Holy shit, this is insane,” Jaemin breathes out, carefully reading through each page, and to his utter amazement, he understands every note and explanation you had added next to each incorrect question. He looks up at you, beaming, “I really got a B+?”

“You did,” you confirm, smiling back at him. “And who knows? It might become an A if the exam gets curved.”

“Oh my god, I owe you my life,” Jaemin chuckles, staring down at the graded exam in front of him, still in disbelief. “Seriously, doll, thank you so much.”

“Oh, of course, anytime,” you laugh sheepishly, twisting the rings adorning your fingers around nervously before averting your attention elsewhere, standing up to go towards the adjacent communal kitchen and carrying your filled tote bag with you. “A—Anyway, I brought some things to celebrate a job well done so far.”

“And how did you know I would’ve done well? What if I completely bombed that exam?” Jaemin teases you, standing up and following after you.

“I don’t know, I guess I just believed in you,” you stutter out, cheeks warming up as you set down your tote bag on the counter, unable to look him in the eyes, and he freezes, mulling over your words silently.

You believe in him? Someone who’s a hopeless cause? He honestly didn’t even believe in himself, he thinks to himself, his chest constricting uncomfortably, a foreign feeling making its entrance known to him, constricting around his heart. He inhales sharply, shoving it away with an easy going smile. “Is that so? Well, thanks, Y/N. And what are we doing now?”

“Making pancakes,” you answer, busying yourself with pulling out the ingredients from your tote bag. “You need to be well fed before the midterm. Your brain needs food. And the class is at 8 am, and neither of us are not morning people, so this is as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Pancakes?” Jaemin echoes after you, glancing at the various items strewn across the counter’s surface. “Does it really take this many ingredients? Isn’t it just the box mix and water?”

“That’s the short cut way. We’re making pancakes from scratch,” you laugh softly, taking out a mixing bowl and whisk along with the measuring cups and spoons. 

“But why? It’s so much easier the other way.” Jaemin whines softly, and you chuckle lightly. “Trust me, it’s worth the effort.”

You hand the one cup measuring utensil and bowl to Jaemin and nudge him towards the flour. “Help me measure out two cups of flour.”

“Alright,” he sighs, opening the bag of flour and carefully scooping out the first cup, scraping off any excess before dumping it into the bowl before repeating the process. “What next?”

“Four tablespoons of sugar,” you answer, handing him the sugar and appropriate measuring utensil before working on measuring four teaspoons of baking powder and a quarter of a teaspoon of baking soda. You pour those to the mixing bowl as Jaemin quietly measures the sugar and adds it in as well before waiting for your next instructions. You quickly drop in half of a teaspoon of salt before pushing the bowl towards him. “Now whisk this together gently, please.”

Jaemin busies himself with combining the dry ingredients as you take out half a stick of butter from the fridge (The one labeled with your name, of course. You’re no food thief, unlike someone who’s been stealing other people’s leftover takeout). You microwave it to get four tablespoons of melted butter before making your way to Jaemin’s side.

“Okay, now make a well in the center of it,” you say, and Jaemin clumsily makes an indent in the dry mixture before looking towards you for approval.

“Perfect, now add in two teaspoons of vanilla extract and crack the egg into it there,” you instruct him, and he obediently follows your directions. You measure out one and three quarters cups of milk and add it to the well before also pouring in the melted butter.

“Do I just whisk it together now?” Jaemin asks, picking up the whisk again, and you nod.

“Yes, mix it all together. It’s fine if there’s a few lumps, but it should be smooth overall.” Your eyes trail over his face, and you stifle a small laugh. “You got a little something on your cheek.”

“What?” Jaemin looks up, pausing in his whisking and you can’t help but giggle, staring at the flour dusting his cheek. “There’s flour on your face.”

“Oh, really? Can you wipe it off for me?” Jaemin laughs softly, attempting to brush at it with his shoulder but failing to reach that high.

“Oh, s-sure,” you stammer slightly, your hand quivering slightly as you outstretch your fingers and gingerly brush your fingertips against the apple of his cheek. His sun kissed skin is warm beneath your fingertips, and your breath hitches in your throat before you gently wipe away the remaining residue. You can feel his gaze searing into your face, but you refuse to look him directly in the eyes.

“There, all done,” you murmur, hastily pulling away and taking a step back. Jaemin lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in. He clears his throat, setting down the bowl. “I think this is all done, too.”

“Oh, great, that’s great,” you say, immediately focusing on the bowl before carrying it with you towards the stove, turning it on. “Let’s set this to medium-low heat. And I’ll add some butter to the pan, so the pancake won’t stick.”

Jaemin hands you the leftover butter and pan for you to set onto the stove. You use the spatula to move around a pat of butter, coating the pan nicely. Once the stove is ready and the butter starts to sizzle slightly, you pour a quarter cup of the batter onto the pan, expertly flicking your wrist to rotate the pan and cause the batter to form a perfect circle. You pull out a small container of blueberries, sprinkling some of them on top.

“Woah.” Jaemin watches you, impressed. “Teach me how to do that.”

“This? It’s easy,” you laugh softly, checking on the pancake until its underside is golden and small bubbles start to form on the top. You quickly move the pan, flipping the pancake onto its other side. “You can try making the next one.”

“Yeah? Will you wrap your arms around me and give me the one on one experience?” Jaemin jokes lightheartedly, and you nearly choke. “I mean—I don’t think that's completely necessary.”

“Relax, doll, I’m just kidding,” he laughs softly, nudging you gently, and you let out an awkward laugh. “Oh, totally. Just a joke.”

Once the pancake is golden on both sides, you carefully slide it onto a plate Jaemin pulled out from one of the cabinets. Your heart rate finally returns to its normal state, and you manage to say calmly, “Maple syrup and whipped cream are in the fridge.” 

Jaemin takes out the aforementioned toppings, generously slathering on some butter before pouring the syrup and spraying whipped cream onto the pancake. He cuts out a small piece and quickly spears it onto his fork before taking the bite, nearly moaning in delight at the first taste.

“Holy crap, this is so fucking good.”

“My secret recipe,” you say proudly as you start to pour the batter for a second pancake, evenly spreading it on the pan. “Was it worth the effort?”

“Yes.” Jaemin swallows, almost immediately going for another bite before he gazes at you, giving you a genuine smile, and your heart rate again increases to an alarming speed.

“Definitely worth it.”

vii. undress me everywhere.

You finish the midterm in forty five minutes, being the first one to turn in your completed exam. This  means you finished twenty minutes before the class ends and consequently, either failed it spectucularly or knocked it out of the park. You really hope it’s the latter.

Despite being rather preoccupied with other matters a.k.a. your suddenly thriving social life, you managed to cram in some studying here and there because your mother would absolutely kill you if you lost your provost scholarship. Gifted kid burnout? Who’s that? You never heard of her before (Just kidding, you’ve had plenty of breakdowns and cry fests over calculating bond values and stock prices).

Now outside of the classroom in one of the open study alcoves, you drop your Longchamp bag on the empty chair next to you before tugging at the back of your jean skirt before carefully sitting down. You make sure to readjust your bra straps, tucking them under the ruched fabric of your white shirt. Tapping your fingers against the scratched surface of the table, you briefly admire the shimmery gold ombré manicure adorning your nails that Jaemin had chosen last week. You pull out a compact from the inner side pocket of your purse, carefully checking your makeup to ensure it is still in pristine condition before quickly swiping in another layer of your Buxom plumping lip gloss in the best shade: fir royale.

The flurry of text messages pinging across your screen quickly catches your attention, and you tuck your mirror and tube of lip gloss away before scrolling through them, letting out a quiet scoff at Karina’s latest melodramatic outburst in the clout chasers group chat:

[ 11:46 a.m. ] karebear ✨: guys, gals, and yuckjun

[ 11:46 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: what tf ??? why are you calling me out

[ 11:46 a.m. ] karebear ✨: shut up or else I won’t make out with you anymore

[ 11:46 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: 🤐

[ 11:46 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: are you that touch starved bro

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: anyway as i was saying

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: this skank in my marketing class has been copying my outfits and posting them on her insta and she has like 10k followers now

[ 11:47 a.m. ] princess lia 👑: time to tear a bitch apart

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: like look at this shit

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: sent {10 images.jpeg}

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: my followers are gonna rip her apart

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: she’s downgrading my brand

[ 11:47 a.m. ] princess lia 👑: dw girl i’ll do a response video so my followers will see too

[ 11:48 a.m. ] princess lia 👑: she can’t get away with this

[ 11:48 a.m. ] karebear ✨: loved a message

[ 11:48 a.m. ] somi amor 💋: idk… they’re similar styles but that’s what popular rn

[ 11:48 a.m. ] karebear ✨: it’s gonna be song jia 2.0 watergate

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: just say you’re broke and go

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: if she’s gonna plagiarize me, she better do it right like bffr walmart version 

[ 11:49 a.m. ] somi amor 💋: you have proof they’re fake? 

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: i mean fake bitch fake bags right

[ 11:49 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: idk she’s kinda hot

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: shut up jen be like your hairline and fall back

[ 11:49 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: HELLO ?! back me up yeonjun

[ 11:50 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: um

[ 11:50 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: 🤐

[ 11:51 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: if you wanna be fucking stupid then knock yourself out

[ 11:51 a.m. ] karebear ✨: loved a message

[ 11:51 a.m. ] karebear ✨: hey my place tonight jun 🥰

[ 11:51 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: are you gonna listen to your own advice yj

[ 11:51 a.m. ] karebear ✨: excuse me ????

[ 11:51 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: 🤐🤐🤐

[ 11:51 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: proverbs 26:11

“Hey, doll, what’s so funny?” 

Jaemin appears next to you, and you let out a startled squeak, jumping in your seat, and he laughs, quickly placing his hands on your shoulders to steady you. You look at him wide eyed for a few seconds, his question not yet registering in your mind, and he waits patiently for your answer.

“Oh!” Your eyes light up, and he smiles at the endearing sight. “Just Karina ranting about something and Yeonjun being whipped.”

“Ah, so the usual?” He reaches for your bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and you stand up, pulling your skirt down once more to ensure you’re covered. The two of you start to make your way out of the Langley Hall. 

“Yep. How was the midterm for you?”

He brightens up, opening the door for you and you thank him. “It wasn’t too bad at all! I actually understood like 90% of the questions and for the others, I was able to narrow down the answers between two choices, so 50/50 chance, fingers crossed I picked the right one.”

You beam when you hear that, and he returns the smile, eyes crinkling in the corners, and you pretend to wipe away faux tears. “I feel like a proud mom.”

“I think my mom actually will be proud,” he says, eyes scanning the cars parked on the nearby street before finding his. He grabs your hand, tugging you along. “C’mon, we gotta go celebrate that our misery is over until finals week. Plus, we gotta prep you when you talk to Hyuck.”

“Wait, what?” You abruptly stop short, and he nearly loses his grip on your hand. “When am I talking to him?”

“This Saturday. You’re coming with me to the Nu Chi party, right?”

“Since when? I don’t go to parties,” you protest, “They’re too loud and noisy, and beer is gross and—”

“You went to the Alpha Sigma one a few weeks ago though?” Jaemin interrupts, and you shake your head. “That was a small party though. This one is the party of the semester. What if I embarrassed myself in front of the entire school?”

“Parties are the prime time for meeting people and getting to know them because alcohol makes everyone friendlier and people don’t stay within their friend groups,” Jaemin interrupts. “Do you really believe that you’ll get him to like you by, I don’t know, one day, your eyes will meet across the classroom, and he’ll fall madly in love with you? This isn’t one of your fanfics, Y/N.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, letting go of his hand on purpose, and he frowns, bottom lip jutting out in a pout before reaching out for your hand again. You swiftly dodge him, and he whines, quickly snatching your hand up and lacing your and his fingers together.

“I hope this isn’t how you’ll treat him on your date. Thank god we’re doing a trial run right now.”

“A trial run?” you echo him, and he nods, flashing you that favorite smile of his that never fails to make you weak in the knees.

“Well, we have to make sure your first date goes perfectly so there will be a second, right? Practice makes perfect,” he says matter-of-factly, and you nod slowly in agreement. The logic makes sense somehow. 

“Okay, so where would you pick for a first date?”

“Maybe a cute cafe? Oh, there’s that one place: Cloudy with a Chance of Boba!” You brighten up, thinking about that boba shop’s menu you spent a good half hour scrolling through on Yelp last night.

“Mm, the most popular place right now is that ramen place on the end of Maisie Street. It’d probably be best to go there,” he muses, tugging you along via your intertwined hands. You nearly stumble in your heeled sandals but swiftly catch yourself.

“O-oh, okay, so are we going there now?”

“Nah, let’s do the ice cream place next door to it. Not really feeling noodles at the moment.” He stops to look over his shoulder at you, and you run into his back, causing him to let go before quickly reaching out and grabbing your arms to steady you. “Woah, be careful.”

“Sorry.” You’re flustered, your cheeks now growing hotter than a furnace. Jaemin reaches forward, his finger carefully swiping at the smudged lip gloss on the corner of your lip. “Where’s your lip gloss? You should reapply this.”

Eyes widening, he then shifts and peers behind him, craning his neck to the side in all attempts to look at the back of his shirt. “There’s not a mark on my shirt, right?” 

You quickly rub off any shimmery residue. “It’s fine, your shirt is dark blue, so you can’t see it anymore.” 

“Oh, good. Wait, where’s your lip gloss?” You fish through your bag, pulling out the tube and handing it to Jaemin. He uncaps it, giving you the lower half of the gloss before gently grasping your chin with one hand. He leans forward and tilts your head towards him, his eyes focused on your lips. The butterflies in your stomach erupt in an instant. You try so hard to stand still, fidgeting with one of the rings on your finger behind your back. 

Jaemin’s face is so close to yours that you can count every single long dark eyelash that frames his pretty eyes. His lips are the prettiest shade of carmine, and you wonder what it’s like to be Aphrodite’s favorite child. How lucky you are to already be basking in the attention of her favorite; imagine how much luckier he is to be her favorite.

The beautiful boy in front of you carefully applies the gloss for you, fully concentrating on coating your lips with a pretty sheen once again. When he glances up, he’s almost blown away by the way you’re looking at him. 

You look stunning, pretty as a picture in VOGUE magazine. Not quite the cover page, but you’re nearly there. A swell of pride runs through his veins, like an artist admiring his latest masterpiece on show in MOMA.

“Anyway,” he clears his throat, handing back to you the lip gloss. “Let’s go. We’re almost there.”

“Alright.” You follow behind him like a lost puppy, and he reaches back to grab your hand and interlace your fingers. Your heart nearly skips a beat as your cheeks grow warmer once again, and for a split second, you wonder if he feels the same way.

“We’re here,” Jaemin announces, letting go of your hand to open the shop’s door, the bell above it jingling faintly as he gestures for you to go inside.

You enter the pretty shop, marveling the clean and simple interior with circular white tables and matching garden iron chairs surrounding each one. There’s bright greenery and plants decorating the edges of the shop, and the wall is covered in mismatched frames of paintings and pictures in various sizes and colors. The cheeky neon sign displayed near the front read, “It’s not gonna lick itself!”, and you laugh softly when you see it. The display of different colorful ice creams at the front are absolutely enticing, and you’re already struggling to decide which two flavors to pick.

You finally decide on a Vietnamese coffee and honeycomb swirl, accepting it from the cashier before you start to pull out your wallet. Before you can even pull out your card, Jaemin taps his phone against the screen, paying for both yours and his.

“Never pay on the first date,” he chides you lightly, picking up his ice cream. “Always let the guy pay for the first date.”

“Oh, but shouldn’t we at least split it?” You ask sheepishly, walking towards a table near the back that he gestures towards. He follows behind you, picking up some spoons and napkins.

“If the guy is so broke that he can’t pay $7 for your ice cream, then he shouldn’t be out dating anyway. He should be getting a job,” Jaemin retorts, tugging your chair out for you before sitting across from you and handing you a spoon and napkin. “Don’t you watch that Shera lady? Sprinkle, sprinkle and all that jazz. Maybe you can split for the future dates, but if the guy has any basic decency, he would pay for the first one.”

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind,” you sigh, taking a hefty scoop of your ice cream and having the first bite. It’s delicious, and you make a mental note to buy a pint and bring back to your dorm to share with Giselle later.

The two of you continue to discuss various appropriate topics to broach on a first date (“Hey Jaemin, you like cheese? My favorite’s Gouda.” “… Please do not ask that.”). You quickly jot down bullet points in your Notes app, your fingers flying over the screen as Jaemin instructs you on good conversational starters and body language.

“So you just need to touch him on his upper forearm and then pull away. Stroke his ego and say he’s funny or some shit like that. At least you don’t have to force yourself to laugh with him though because Hyuck is naturally funny anyway. And he’s good at keeping up the conversation and a people person, so it won’t be awkward even for your first date,” Jaemin continues as you nod, rapidly typing what he says.

“And at the end of the date, touch his shoulder again, glance down at his lips for a brief second before making eye contact. If he’s bold enough, he’ll go for the first kiss. But then just immediately smile and say you had a great time before he can lean in. After that, he won’t stop thinking about that moment, and it’ll drive him crazy, and he’ll be texting you for a second date within the next day.”

“Mm, okay, I think I got it,” you mumble absentmindedly, engrossed in writing down the last few bullet points and Jaemin leans over to take a closer look at your phone, his eyes flitting over the screen.

“So for the last point, do I have to deny the first kiss then? Smile and walk away before he leans in and…” 

You start to ask until you look up, and your breath hitches in your throat at the close proximity, your and his noses almost brushing. Jaemin is so pretty, even prettier when you can count the few freckles dotting his face, can clearly see the mesmerizing golden flecks dotting his irises, can admire the way his lips look so soft and curve into the picture perfect smile. Your heart thumps wildly, nearly falling onto the floor along with your jaw when you glance up from staring at his lips and see that he’s already looking back at you with the softest expression on his face.

“You don’t have to,” Jaemin murmurs, and your heart stutters in your chest as he moves in closer, his lashes brushing against your cheek, and suddenly, his lips are pressed against yours. They’re pink and soft and slot perfectly against yours in a way that has your heart skipping beats and stomach doing cartwheels.

Eyes widening, you freeze up, letting out a quiet squeak of surprise, before he pulls away, giving you an amused smile. The lingering warmth on your lips makes your cheeks heat up, and you have to break eye contact, stammering over your words as you gently graze your fingers over your lips in wonderment.

Jaemin laughs softly as he leans back in his chair. “We’ll have to work on this too then. You’re kissing like it’s a Park Shinhye kdrama.”

You’re still dazed, cheeks growing even warmer as you avoid his gaze, fiddling with the loose thread on the hem of your skirt. “That was my first kiss.”

Jaemin pauses at the realization, his cheeks flushing slightly before he clears his throat, giving you a half smile and a light chuckle, “Oh, really? That’s cute, doll. Well, I’ll teach you some tips, so you’ll be better at it by the time you ask Hyuck out. At least you got a decent first kiss, right? No big deal.”

“Yeah, no big deal,” you echo softly, your heart still racing at breakneck speed. You pretend to focus on the remnants of your ice cream in the bottom of your paper cup, fingers gripping around the container tightly.

Jaemin was right.

You don’t think you’ll be able to stop thinking about this moment anytime soon.

viii. come on, barbie, let’s go party!

“Are you sure you wanna do this?”

Moon asks worriedly, helping you with your makeup as you sit, perched on the edge of your bed. She uncaps your eyeliner as Lana fusses with your shirt, smoothing out any of the wrinkles. “Actually, I can’t do it. You do it, Yang. You’re an expert at this.”

“Alright, give it to me.” Yangyang comes over, grabbing the eyeliner and expertly draws on the wing above your right eye. “Years of cosplay have finally come in handy. Although, I still can’t believe you’re putting in all this effort for Jaemin.”

“I need to look pretty. He usually does my makeup for me, but he’s busy right now,” you mumble, twisting the ring around your finger anxiously. “It’s my first time going to a party. I can’t embarrass him when he’s a ten.”

“Yeah, in rupees,” Yangyang scoffs, and Lana frowns at you, stopping in her tracks. “Don't talk about yourself like that. You’re already pretty, and if anything, you should be embarrassed to be seen with that slime ball. I can’t believe he doesn’t even have the decency to pick you up. Why are you the one going to his place?”

“He has some frat meeting right now,” you answer, glancing down at your newly manicured nails. The pearl color shimmers under the light, and you can’t help but admire it even more. You wish they were a little shorter, but they really do look quite pretty.

“What meeting? We’re in the same frat. Also, hold still,” Yangyang huffs, holding your chin as he draws on the left wing over your eye. “We need them to look like twins, not cousins twice removed.”

“I don’t know, he just said there was some meeting,” you mumble, holding perfectly still until he finally finishes. “Maybe it was a one on one meeting or something, who knows?”

“I still think he’s shady,” Lana grumbles, and Moon nods as well. “Yeah, like the first kiss thing?”

“It’s no big deal,” you wave your hand dismissively, hopping off of your bed and taking a look at yourself in your mirror. “Better to get it over with, right? I mean, imagine being this old and not having your first kiss yet.”

“Is that what he said to you?” Moon huffs, affronted, and you shift in your place uncomfortably. “No, of course not. It’s just—everyone gets their first kiss when they’re like fourteen or fifteen, right?”

“That’s not the point,” Lana says indignantly, tucking your hair behind your ear carefully. “You wanted it to be special, didn’t you? It just feels like… he took something away from you.”

“He didn’t. I wanted this,” you answer loudly, ignoring the way your stomach flip flops as you try not to think back to that moment. He kissed you, he really does like you back, he might have not said it out loud, but he knows how much it means to you (Wouldn’t he?).

“Okay, as long as you’re happy,” Moon gives in, and she and Lana exchange a worried look that goes unnoticed by you. But what can they do? They can continue to try convincing you, but it will never work when it falls on deaf ears. 

“I am,” you insist, avoiding your friends’ gazes and staring at yourself back in the mirror. Moon attempts to lift the mood again, offering you a tentative smile in the reflection. “This whole thing is like a whole emotional rollercoaster, and Yangyang is definitely not tall enough to ride.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m literally almost six foot tall,” Yangyang shoots back, and you laugh, relaxing once more as you watch your friends start to bicker again.

“Listen, you can’t be delusional and short. Pick a struggle.” Moon counters, and Lana agrees, handing you your phone to tuck into your pocket. “She’s right. You carry yourself with the confidence of a much taller man.”

You smile fondly as the bickering between your friends continues. You miss them, you realize with a jolting pang of regret, you haven’t been hanging out with them as often as you used to. In fact, the majority of your weeks are spent with Jaemin and his friends.

It’s your first cold dose of reality, and you’re hit with a startling truth. You haven’t been a very good friend lately.

—

Lana drove you to the Nu Chi Theta house, and you felt like a kindergartener being dropped for her first day of school. Your face feels hot as a wave of embarrassment rushes over you as you notice the amount of glances you receive from the insanely pretty girls and boys already on the front lawn and streaming out from the front door. You quickly exit the vehicle, hurriedly waving good bye over your shoulder before making your way into the house, almost tripping over the raised walkway.

You wander around the house, searching for Jaemin and quickly sidestepping a through the couples and other students dancing around, nearly getting bowled over by someone you recognize from your school’s football team. He gives you a quick once over before offering a half apology, eyes set on another girl on the other side of the room. You take a deep breath before pushing your way into the next room, finally spotting Jaemin with his friends, minus Jeno and Somi, by the staircase and letting out a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” you say breathlessly, squeezing through two couples busily making out in the doorway and wincing slightly when you jostle both of them, causing them to give you dirty looks before resuming their activities. 

“Oh, hi, Y/N!” Karina says brightly, giving you a perfect smile and reaching over to squeeze your arm gently. “We didn’t think you’d make it.”

“My first frat party? Of course, I wouldn’t miss it,” you laugh, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear nervously before fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Jaemin gives you a small smile, and you return it with a slightly shaky one, your eyes flickering towards the fading pink, glossy lip mark staining the collar of his shirt. The color is much too dark to be Jaemin’s, and your stomach churns slightly.

“You look so pretty, Y/N, I love the confidence,” Lia chimes in, gently pinching the fabric of your skirt between her manicured fingers. “I love this, you’ll have to let me borrow it sometime.”

“Oh, of course! You can borrow it anytime,” you agree quickly, flashing her a slightly forced smile before glancing over at Jaemin again, unsure what to do.

“Where do you shop?” Yeonjun asks, glancing over at your outfit. “The shirt is nice, too.”

“Oh my god, yes, we have to go shopping together sometime, and you’ll have to show me all the good places,” Karina cuts in, nudging you gently before letting out a sigh, looking over at Lia. “God, I’ve been feeling so fat lately, like freshman twenty might be getting to me.”

“No, same, I’ve been extending my gym sessions and doing Pilates,” Lia huffs softly, and you remain silent, switching your weight around on each foot, glancing over at Jaemin helplessly.

“I need another drink. You coming, Y/N?” Jaemin finally speaks up before brushing past Yeonjun, and you hurriedly follow behind him, careful not to fall behind or get swept away. He quickly pushes through to the kitchen, finding a spot next to the counter covered in various bottles of cheap alcohol and stacks of red solo cups dispersed in between.

“You want one?” Jaemin asks, extending a shot of vodka he just poured out towards you, and you shake your head before he gives a wry smile. “You sure? It’ll help with the nerves. You were shaking back there.”

Your cheeks grow warm. “You noticed?”

“Everybody noticed,” he snorted, handing you the cup, and you wince slightly before holding your nose and downing it in one go. “Give me another then.”

“Atta girl,” Jaemin hands you another shot and you take that one just as quickly, making a face that causes him to smile subconsciously. As he pours himself a cup of beer, he spots Donghyuck by the pool out back, and a knot settles in his stomach uncomfortably. He almost doesn’t want to tell you, and he doesn’t know why. It’s just because he worked so hard to make you look this good, and his loudmouth friend gets to reap all the benefits, he tells himself, taking a swig of his drink, Donghyuck doesn’t know how lucky he is.

Ignoring all the stop signs and whistles going off in his head, he gestures towards Donghyuck outside, clenching the red cup in his hand a little tighter than normal. “There’s your chance. Gotta do it before the alcohol wears off.”

“Oh, um, actually, I wanted to talk to you,” you stammer out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear again (It’s one of your habits when you’re nervous, and he thinks it might be his favorite). He pushes down the growing knot in his stomach.

“We’ll talk later, yeah? You can’t miss this,” Jaemin insists before nudging you in the direction of the pool outside despite your soft protests.

“W-wait, I  jus—” you say desperately, but Jaemin merely waves you off before disappearing back into the party inside. You let out a sigh, shoulders sagging slightly. You wouldn’t want to disappoint him after all the effort he put in these past four weeks.

You’ll tell him later.

—

“Oh? Where’s your little Barbie doll, Jaemin?” Karina simpers as she lazily taps her pretty manicured nails against the half filled red solo cup in her other hand when Jaemin returns to his original spot. “Have you gotten bored of playing with her yet?”

“It’s not like that,” Jaemin answers hotly, “She’s… fun. She makes me laugh.”

“How? By looking at her?” Yeonjun snorts, chugging his own cup before crinkling it in his fist. Jaemin wants to throw up. “We thought you just did this because you’ve been having a dry spell and were bored. Where is she anyway?

 “She’s talking to Hyuck right now,” Jaemin mumbles meekly, shoulders slightly hunched over as he stares into the depths of his own solo cup.

“Really? I mean, is she even his type?” Lia asks skeptically, straightening up in her spot to see if she can spot you or Donghyuck anywhere. “If anything, I thought her friend—the pretty English major one—would be his type. How is she anyone’s type?”

“Hey, he turned her from a four to a solid eight. She might even go up half a point once you introduce her to an exercise and diet plan.” Karina says offhandedly, raising her cup towards him in mock salute before taking a sip.

“Yeah, how are you going to do that? It’s not like you can even sugarcoat it for her because then she’d eat it too,” Yeonjun throws out with a smirk, and Jaemin feels sick to his stomach, the nauseating feeling growing exponentially and gnawing at him as his friend continues, “I mean she’s probably already on the seafood diet because she sees any food and just eats it. How can you even stand her, Jae? The way she just follows you around like a puppy. Isn’t it annoying?”

“God, I know, the way she basically chases after us like a lap dog is so pathetic. At least she takes good insta pics for us though, so she’s somewhat useful. But we had that one really good group photo at that last party, and she totally ruined the picture. You can’t even crop her out because she had to stand next to you, Jae,” Lia complains, rolling her eyes, and Karina laughs, taking out her phone and scrolling through her photos.

“Oh my god, I know  the exact photo you’re talking about. It’s this one, right? She practically threw herself into your arms,” She flashes her screen towards the group, and Jaemin wants to shrink and crawl into a hole somewhere and die. Was it the best photo of you? No. Was it the worst? Maybe close to it. You’re standing sideways and still taking up more space in the photo than the others, and the flash photography did not do any favors for you. You stand out even worse than Will Smith in the sunflower costume meme. He cringes inwardly, noting the way your skirt had rolled up and you’re smiling a little too widely. He makes a mental note to help you practice  better, more flattering poses later on.

“You know that famous baby hippo? Moo Deng? I think we found her twin from the future,” Yeonjun barks out a laugh, reaching over and zooming in on you as Karina smirks before putting away her phone. Lia giggles and glances over at Jaemin, scrutinizing his reaction before a sly expression makes an appearance on her face, saying coyly, “You have a crush on her, don’t you?”

Jaemin flushes, embarrassment coating his cheeks, and he immediately snaps, “Shut up, I might be lonely, but I’m not despera—”

“Oh, Y/N!” Lia says loudly, effectively cutting Jaemin short. “How did it go? Are you and Hyuck gonna be the new couple on campus?”

Immediately, his heart drops even further to his stomach, and Jaemin whirls around to see you standing a few feet away. Did Lia know you were there?  How long were you standing there? Did you hear them? Did you hear every horrible thing they said about you?

“Oh, Donghyuck said he wasn’t interested, but he was nice about it,” you say, offering a vague smile in Jaemin’s direction, and he nearly breathes a sigh of relief as his heart starts to slow back down to its normal rate. A part of him is glad that Donghyuck rejected you, and he nearly misses what you say next, too caught up in this unfamiliar feeling.

“I think I’m going to head back to my dorm. I’m a little tired. Thank you for inviting me.”

With that, you turn away and walk off, but something still doesn’t feel right to Jaemin. It’s a split second decision but for once, he puts his heart over his mind and chases after you, ignoring the increasing whispers from his friends and their eyes searing into his back.

ix. raise your hand if you have ever been personally victimized by na jaemin.

Jaemin is right on your heels the entire time you walk back to your dorm. All he receives is stony silence from you that he fills with babbling nonsense, asking you what’s wrong to no avail. When you finally enter your dorm, you turn to him at last, and he perks up. However, the two words that come out of your mouth have him deflating faster than Yangyang’s ego when Alice called him a shitty kisser with too much saliva (“You’re supposed to make me wet down there, not up here. Honestly, dude, if I wanted to drown myself, I would’ve jumped into the ocean.”).

“We’re done.”

You decide to bite the bullet.

After freeing your feet from their pointy death contraptions, you peel off each layer of clothing one by one, unzipping the mini skirt and kicking it away before tugging at the spandex, unleashing the breath you’ve been holding in since 8 a.m. to fit into it. There’s still indents marking the dips in your waist and your thighs, a lasting reminder that stays like an embarrassing stain. You fling that abhorrent piece of elastic elsewhere, and it falls near the end of your bed, out of sight behind the pile of textbooks you haven’t touched for the past three days.

“Hold on, what are you talking about? We made so much progress. You wanted to do this,” Jaemin protests, following after you and picking up the discarded garments you threw haphazardly. He waves around the skirt like a white flag. “You wanted to be in the popular crowd, and you got it. You’re this close to dating Hyuck. Yeah, he might’ve said no now, but we’ll come up with a new plan—You can bounce back from this! Why are you quitting now?”

Removing the off-the-shoulder pink top that restricts your arm movement, you quickly slip on an oversized sweater before reaching back and unhooking the strapless bra whose underwire has been digging into your ribs for so many hours, a sigh of relief escaping between your teeth. You toss it onto your chair without another care in the world, and it lands next to the shirt in a heap.

“Because this isn’t me. This isn’t what I like.”

“Of course, it is. This is still you: just new and improved,” he insists, frantically attempting to hand you your discarded shirt and pleather skirt. You ignore them, opting to pull out and put on your favorite pair of stretched out gym shorts from middle school that you had shoved in the back of your closet to make room for all the flashy clothing Jaemin picked out for you. “We’re having fun. You’re popular and pretty now. You’re almost dating Donghyuck. You have everything that everyone wants. You’re the girl the boys want to be with, the girl all the other girls want to be.”

You shake your head, reaching for the packet of makeup wipes near your sink. “It’s not what I want.”

Jaemin scoffs, “Don’t be ridiculous. What are you talking about? This is what you asked me to do.”

You throw him a scathing glare, and he takes a step back. “God, Jaemin, for once in your life, take off the stupid rose colored heart shades, and you’ll finally see all the red flags around you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jaemin asks defensively. He thought everything was going according to plan; he’s going to pass macroeconomics, and you got to talk to Donghyuck and are this close to scoring a date with him. People notice you wherever you go, the two of you receive compliments, his friends like you, everyone likes you.

“I have to pretend to like things I hate and hate the things I like. I have to do things a certain way, act a certain way, pretend this is all effortless. I don’t know if people are being genuine or pretending like I am. I hate this—this fake version of me.” You spit the words out like fuel to a fire, and you stand there in all your blazing glory, ugly uniform shorts and all.

“My thighs keep chafing. My feet have blisters everyday from these boots. This foundation makes me break out even more, and I can’t type up my notes in class or write fast enough because of these nails, and my grades almost took a plunge. I’m basically freezing my tits off out there in a shirt I don’t like. The lashes make my eyes itch, and this skirt is so short that I have to keep pulling it down every five seconds before I end up flashing someone.”

You don’t recognize the girl in your mirror anymore. You pluck off the falsies lining your eyes, scrubbing furiously at the layers of expensive brand name makeup covering your skin.  You wipe off every inch of it until your bare face stares back at you, slightly puffy, blemishes, faded acne scars and all. You feel like you can breathe a little better now.

“Did you really think it’s easy being one of us? Do you think people will notice you if you show up in sweats with Cheetos stains?” Jaemin stares at you incredulously. “This is how it is. I don’t get why you’re throwing it all away like this.”

“And yet, you were all for it when I threw away everything before.”

“Because you asked for it! You asked me to—to make you into someone Donghyuck would date!”

“You don’t get it.” You whirl around on your heels to face him instead of the mirror, and the anger and intensity laced in your voice nearly blows him away. “I like myself the way I am. I never hated myself. I may be insecure about how I look sometimes, but who isn’t? Yeah, I like wearing cherry lip gloss and mascara sometimes. It’s fun trying out new hairstyles and clothes and learning to do better makeup. I like getting dressed up for special occasions. I like doing these things on my own terms. But this? What I’m doing to myself right now? This isn’t the same. Am I supposed to keep up this charade for the rest of my life? If I do eventually go out with Donghyuck, am I gonna have to keep lying to him? To everyone? I want people to like me for me. To actually know me.”

“If this is how you feel, then why would you keep doing this?! If you hate it so much, then why?” He’s frustrated, carding his fingers through his hair as he can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you’re angry over this. You look gorgeous, so what’s the problem?

“Because I liked spending time with you!” you burst out, “I never liked Donghyuck—I liked you. I wanted it to be you. It was fun at first, I did like it at first, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. I can’t be friends with someone who’s ashamed of me.”

There’s a jolt in his heart when he hears your confession, but the second jolt comes quickly afterwards at your last words. Denial is the first stage of grief, and he pales at your final declaration. “What are you talking about? This whole thing is so that Dongh—”

“Oh, please. You can drop the act. This isn’t about Donghyuck anymore. This is about you being too embarrassed to be seen with someone who doesn’t fit your aesthetics.” You air quote the last word for emphasis, and his jaw tightens at that. “You’d rather drop dead than go out with a four like me, right?” You smile sardonically at him. “I may be a four on a seafood diet, but my ears work perfectly fine, Jaemin.”

You heard it all, and Jaemin feels like he is going to throw up. All he can do is scramble and grasp for the last remaining straws, protesting vehemently, “I wasn’t the one who said any of that!”

You laugh humorlessly, “Is that supposed to make it better? You’re better than them because you didn’t say it out loud? You didn’t deny it or defend me either, so what’s your point? 

His mouth goes dry, and he opens and shuts it several times. Swallowing harshly, he barely manages to croak out a weak reply. “That’s— I didn’t mean—I only really thought that before I knew you.”

“And that’s just it, isn’t it? You already judged me before you even knew me based on how I look. Even now, you still judge me.” He starts to open his mouth again, but you merely shrug as if you’ve accepted this for all your life, and he closes it meekly, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably, unable to meet your eyes

“That’s okay. I’m used to it. That’s how it is for people like me. I know I’m not someone people fall head over heels for immediately. I’m the one who reaches out to people first. Guys don’t fall over at my feet, wanting to carry my books to class for me. The pretty girls ask me to take their Insta pictures for them. I don’t get free drinks at the bar or invited to all the parties. I’ve never been asked out by a total stranger, and no one writes their number on my cup of coffee,” you say matter-of-factly, a resigned smile on your face, and it has him curling into himself internally, his conscience slowly eating away at him.

“And you know what?” you continue, “That's life. That’s okay because I’m happy with who I am. I like who I am. If I have to give myself up to get Donghyuck or you to like me, then he’s—you—are not the one. I shouldn’t change who I am for a boy—or anyone for that matter.”

“That’s not—We were doing this for you. You wanted… you wanted this makeover. You wanted this.” He’s desperately clutching onto the end of the rope, and you’re holding the scissors to cut it off. You show him another half smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“It stopped being about me. It started being about what you wanted, what you liked, what you wanted me to be. I was your charity case, your little Barbie doll.”

You tilt your head to the side, studying the boy in front of you and he silently squirms under your scrutiny. “Tell me one thing, and be honest. Did you even know I existed before Donghyuck mentioned me as a tutoring option? Before you needed me for a grade booster? Would you have liked me then?”

Would you have liked me then? Your question echoes in his mind, and Jaemin freezes, dropping the clothes in his hands. You know. You know he likes you, and the embarrassment creeps up on him in the form of carmine dusting his ears and cheeks, like spilled wine on white linen.

“There are over one hundred students in the class,” he objects. “Sorry for not fighting my way through all of them to find you and have a crush on you sooner.”

Jaemin seems to not realize that he just confirmed his feelings for you aloud, and perhaps, if he had told you this a few weeks ago, you would have been ecstatic and called up Lana and Moon the second he was out of earshot. But this is now, and you’ve grown exponentially since then.

You give him a wistful smile, and as the dread piles up in the pit of his stomach, he knows this is the start of his downfall (or perhaps, he’s already been falling this entire time). He slipped from the pedestal already long ago, and it’s only a matter of time before he hits rock bottom. The higher the pedestal, the harder the fall from grace.

“I sat in front of you diagonally. You asked me to pass notes to my friend. You know, the girl who sat next to me? Alice? The one you asked out and went on a few dates with at the beginning of the semester?” You state the facts calmly, and his eyes widen at that. “It’s okay. But you must’ve remembered that we were in the same group for a presentation last semester, right?”

Jaemin stays silent, and you have your answer. It’s one you’ve known deep down in your heart all this time, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less. After all, someone can announce they’re going to punch you, you can even see the strike coming to your gut, but simply knowing doesn’t do anything to ease the painful aftermath.

You chuckle humorlessly, fingers uncurling and recurling into fists as your nails press moon shaped crescents into your palms before you look him straight in the eyes. “I don’t fit into your cookie cutter life or match your rose colored Instagram filters. I don’t have the perfect model figure or the perfect face. I don’t look like the girl of your dreams, and I know that it just fucking kills you inside that you fell in love with me.”

Jaemin flinches, curling in on himself when he finally meets your gaze and finally sees the absolute hell fires of fury and repugnance ablaze in your eyes. You know that he loves you, and he’s ashamed that you’re right. You’re absolutely right.

Why is he so afraid of loving you?

He loves how smart you are, how witty you are, how funny you are, how genuine you are, how you understand every obscure Haikyuu!! reference he makes, how you laugh at his jokes, how you dm him the funniest memes on Instagram, how you wear your purple scrunchie around your wrist during every exam for good luck and how you let him borrow it too. He loves how you treat him as more than just a pretty face, how you actually listen to him and make him feel like what he says matters, how you make him feel different—special—like he doesn’t have to compete with all the other Barbies and Kens out there. He’s much too vain, much too superficial, much too selfish, much too proud to admit it out loud, but he’s in love with you, and yet, he can’t bring himself to love every single part of you.

And the truth of that matter is the ugliest of all.

But there are standards that he has to uphold, why can’t you understand this? He lowered his standards for you, and you still couldn’t meet them. You have the personality already, you are this close to being the ideal girl, and well, you both have to make changes. It’s the prince and princess who live happily ever after, not the prince and the pauper, or god forbid, the ogre (No offense, Shrek). This is real life, and society has unspoken rules. He sacrificed so much for you, he put his reputation on the line, so why couldn’t you do this for him? After all, love always has some sacrifices.

Right?

But when Jaemin looks at you now, there’s everything, but love staring back at him. You look at him like he’s a repulsive piece of chewed gum stubbornly stuck to the bottom of your Steve Madden heel. It strikes a nerve and completely eats him to the core, but he pulls himself upright because nobody talks to him like that, nobody looks at him like that, certainly not someone like you. He invented you, he made you into the next Princess Mia, the next Cady Heron, the next Serena van der Woodsen, and this is how you show your gratitude?

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me. You act like I’m the first person to judge first based on looks. Everyone does it. Am I supposed to strike up a conversation with every girl on the off chance she’s everything I want? Do you think anyone would fall for you immediately when you looked like that?  The saying is ‘love at first sight’, unless you’re one to believe in the whole ‘love is blind’ idea, which you clearly do,” Jaemin snaps, sneering as he eyes you up and down. His heart and mind are screaming, crying, begging for him to stop, but his pride dropkicks him headfirst into the hole he dug for himself, raging for him to get the upper hand again.

“How is it my fault for not knowing you’re the whole package when the wrapping doesn’t match the contents?”

The unfiltered words slip out of his mouth, and he immediately regrets it, closing his eyes, but it’s too late. He sees the instant look of devastation that appears on your face, and it hits him like a boxer’s punch to the chest. He starts to backtrack to no avail. You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.

“I am never going to be enough for you, am I?” you whisper, your breaths stuttering in your chest as your initial sarcasm turns into quiet truths now that eat away at him. “I’m either too much or too little. There’s always going to be something you’ll want to change, something you want to fix.”

“Y/N… I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. It was an accident. I just—”

Jaemin can’t continue on, his voice trailing off as he doesn’t know what to say. He wants to keep apologizing, he’ll do anything it takes to take back what he just said, but the damage has already been dealt. He’s always known he’s an asshole, sure, but this is beyond anything he’s ever said or done in the past. He just secured the seat of honor in Dante's ninth circle of hell, and there’s no return ticket.

“You just what? You thought it would be okay to say anything to my face just because it’s not up to your standards?”

Jaemin’s face pales. “N-no, I—this isn’t how it's supposed to go, I just—It just slipped out, can we start over?” 

A public rejection from any boy or girl would hurt infinitely less than the words Jaemin spat in your face. The things that his friends said before within earshot? You could take it because you couldn’t care less about them at the end of the day. But this? This was coming from someone you trusted, someone you care about, someone you lov—No, you don’t even want to think about that.

Jaemin never loved you. He never even liked you. The harsh reality slaps you like a cold shower in the middle of a winter night, and you want to curl up into a ball under your covers and cry until you fall asleep.

And yet, you will not let him humiliate you any longer. The spell has been broken. Cinderella is back to her rags, and her Prince Charming is nowhere to be found. She’s stuck as a toad that’ll never change. Eyes watering, you inhale sharply, laughing quietly in disbelief before you straighten up and your face hardens.

“Are you actually listening to yourself? You think we can start over? You treat people like they’re disposable, like they’re nothing, and once they don’t match with your theme of the week, you toss them even faster than the time it takes for you to choose an outfit.” Your chest is heaving, and the tears threaten to fall, but you push on, swallowing the lump in your throat. He reaches out for you, and you take a step back, shaking your head.

“You can’t hurt people and expect them to just let it go. I get it, I know I’m not the thinnest, or the nicest, or the funniest, or the smartest, or the prettiest. I know that I’m hard to love. I get it, Jaemin. I’ve always known that.”

You choke on the last sentence, swallowing hard to stifle the hiccup that bubbles up in your throat. “But that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit.”

Rapidly blinking back your tears, you march over to your door and throw it open with such force that the doorknob could have left a dent in the wall. You don’t want to cry, you’ve always been an angry crier, and you desperately want the tears to stop. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry and hearing your confession. He doesn’t deserve any of that. Jaemin doesn’t deserve your tears, and he certainly doesn’t deserve your love.

“Get out.”

Jaemin stares at you, mouth agape like a fish on land. You gesture heatedly towards the outside, choking slightly. “What are you waiting for? I said get out.”

“Y/N, I—”

“Am I a joke to you?” you quietly ask, and his eyes widen.

“No! No, Y/N, you’re not, I jus—”

A single tear manages to escape despite your best, frustrated efforts, and Jaemin instinctively reaches out for you. You swat his hand away, angrily swiping away the stray droplet with the sleeve of your sweater. His heart wrenches in his chest as his hand dangles limply by his side. You’re crying because of him. He caused that, and he feels like the biggest piece of shit in the world.

You refuse to let any more fall, glaring at him through the unshed tears and entirely disgusted with the boy standing in front of you. “Don’t touch me. I’m not crying for you. I’m crying because I’m so angry I wasted all my time on someone who never cared about me.”

That’s not true—I love you, he wants to say, but his mouth refuses to form the words because his pride won’t loosen its grip on his heart. He loves you, he’s in love with you, why can’t you see that?

You steel yourself, taking one shaky breath before looking pointedly at the door and repeating yourself, “Get out. Leave me alone.”

Numbly, he makes his way over to the door, ears ringing. You glower at him, the intensity searing and digging into the side of his face. When he stands outside of your dorm, he struggles to turn around and face you helplessly. Your eyes soften for a moment, and it shoves the dagger deeper into his chest when he recognizes that look. It’s the same look he wore when he first saw you, and the shame that emerges nearly chokes him. The mixture of pity and disappointment painted across your face revolts him entirely, and he feels like he’s going to vomit. Jaemin is utterly humiliated.

Your gaze intensifies once more when you stand up to your full height, stare unwavering and chin raised up. Gripping the doorframe tightly, you drive the final words into his heart like a stake.

“I am too good for you, Jaemin, and I will never love someone like you. I deserve better.”

And for a split second, you almost convinced yourself when you said that.

You shut the door in his face.

Jaemin calls your name through the door several times, desperation ringing clear in his tone, but it falls on deaf ears. Apologies are a fool’s best friend, and you’d be a fool yourself to believe them. Holding your breath, you wait until you hear his footsteps echo down the hallway, until the solitude greets you like an old friend. And at last, you drop the facade and let yourself cry. Back pressed against the door and head bowed, you finally let go until all the tears are gone and you’re gasping for breath, the quiet hiccups and sobs bursting forth and breaking the silence in the same way he broke your heart over and over again.

You love him.

There’s no one to blame, but yourself. In the end, it’s all your fault that you were in this mess. How can you be so stupid? You can put lipstick on a pig, but it would still be a pig. Built up insecurities will bubble up to the surface no matter how much mascara and blush you apply. The warning signs were all there in flashing technicolor, but they were all tied up with shiny ribbons and deceiving perfect smiles. They lit up your usual drab life of blacks, whites, and grays, and you were blinded by the glitz and glamor— blinded by him. It is hard to see the red flags and stop signs through the rose colored Instagram filters. You trusted him and gave him your heart when you should’ve known it’d end like this. 

You got greedy and tried to steal the spotlight, and you received it, front and center. You are the joke. You are the punchline, the comedic relief, the center stage of a slapstick comedy show. This is what you get for going off script.

Because you love him.

You were supposed to continue to delude yourself into thinking that you don’t want to find love, that you enjoy being on your own, that you enjoy being single, that you are perfectly content with never experiencing romance instead of facing the cold harsh reality head on: no one sees you as desirable or dateable. And when your friends tell you that you’re not missing out on anything with dating, you were supposed to nod and agree, when secretly, you desperately wish you can experience that for yourself instead of living vicariously through your friends’ love lives or the 3 a.m. scrollings through cheesy romance fanfiction on Tumblr. You’re been fine all these years, haven’t you? You were doing so well living on your own.

But you love him.

It’ll come when you least expect it, that’s what they tell you every time, but what are you to do when you can’t help but expect it your whole life? What are you to do when you so desperately want to know what it feels like to be loved in that way? God, when is it going to be your turn? When is it your turn to daydream about someone and know that they’re daydreaming about you too? When is it your turn to have someone walk you home? When is it your turn to hold hands with someone? When is it your turn to feel the giddy butterflies and experience a good night kiss? When is it your turn to be kissed in the rain? When is it your turn to experience the romance you can only dream about?

How much longer will you have to be patient? How much longer do you have to wait, living in denial over the soul crushing reality of it all? How many more stars do you need to wish upon until you learn to accept the painstaking truth? You weren’t meant to be loved in this lifetime.

God, you love him.

It’s embarrassing when it shouldn’t be. You just want to be touched by hands that care, loved by a heart that beats for you, desired by someone who thinks you are enough. It’s the way you would give up ten years of your life in a heartbeat to experience being the prettiest girl in the room just once and have people look at you. The overwhelming shame washes over you when you never had your first kiss until now with a boy who never cared about you, never went on a date before, never had a boyfriend before, and you have to lie and say it’s by choice when it’s not. It’s not. You have so much love to give, you have so much space in your life to share, you have so much time to spend with that special someone, but the grains of the hourglass are spent waiting and longing for a stranger who will never come. 

The thought of it all just makes you sick. It makes you sick that you wish so terribly that someone would just look in your direction for once. For once, you want to be looked at in that way like all the female protagonists experience in the movies. And you know your value shouldn’t be based on desire and objectification, you absolutely know it, but it still hurts when you go out with your friends and you’re the one dancing alone or sitting back and watching the purses. You’re the one standing there by yourself, while every single one of your pretty friends is being approached by someone. It still hurts so fucking bad when you try to put yourself out there, but guys have already moved past you or don’t even acknowledge your existence simply because of your face or a number on a scale. And when he came into your life and gave you one measly ounce of attention, you ran with it when you should have run away. It’s absolutely exhausting, leaving you out of breath and on the verge of throwing up, to chase after someone who never even looked at you, to chase after their attention, praying to god that they’ll one day make you feel like you are worth it, that you’ll finally feel some sort of value.

Forget ever being loved, you weren’t even wanted.

There is no such thing as happily ever after’s for the extras. Girls like you don’t get to star in love stories. Why did you ever think it would end differently?

You love him.

And he ruined you. Even worse, you let him.

You wish you never met Na Jaemin.

x. i can’t go out tonight. *fake coughs* i’m sick.

You would like to give a formal apology to Bella Swan for not understanding why she was so depressed over Edward leaving her for six months and making fun of her. In your defense, you were like nine years old when the movie came out, and you were more interested in Barbies back then (Plus, you were Team Jacob because you wanted a pet dog at the time).

You didn’t even go through a break up, but it sure as hell feels like one.

You probably would continue to wallow in your misery for weeks, clutching onto the only two men you could ever trust in your entire life: Ben and Jerry’s while watching every iconic 90s and early 2000s rom-coms on repeat if it weren’t for your best friends. But enough is enough, and you get that you shouldn’t be spending weeks crying over a boy who hasn’t even spent one second thinking about you. It’s just hard to take that first step back up again when you feel like you tripped and fell all the way down to rock bottom.

And so, you finally let your friends into your shared dorm room, and you definitely do not miss the poorly disguised look of disgust and shock when they see the giant mess on your side of the room (You’re very grateful that Giselle has been staying at her boyfriend’s place for weeks now). It’s an intervention at this point—one that you desperately need, and you know it.

“Okay, give it to me straight,” you sniffle, still wrapped up in your comforter like a giant burrito and clutching onto the ice cream carton like a lifeline. You know that your friends will just rip it off like a bandage, and you have mentally prepared yourself for it. Your voice comes out wobbly still from the tears, and you hate it. “I know I was stupid for letting a guy walk all over me like that. I know if any of you were in this situation, I’d tell you that you’re better than that and to get over him, but it’s just so hard to do it.”

“He who shall not be named is a scumbag, and I’m gonna kill him the next time I see him,” Lana states, pursing her lips together. “I hope he has a bad hair day every single day because I know he’d be screaming, crying, throwing up if he could never get a perfect selfie ever again.”

You choke back a sob, giving her a watery smile. “That would destroy him.”

“Good. Fuck him. Metaphorically, not literally. Why should you care if you are the girl of his dreams or not? Be the girl of your dreams. You’re gorgeous, smart, and funny and he’s just some guy who still doesn’t know how to use the correct ‘your’ in an Instagram caption.”

You can write down a thousand and one reasons why he was the most horrendous, most awful, most vile person to ever grace your life. But at the end of the day, why does it matter? What good would it do? You still love him, and that’s the worst pill to swallow.

“I just—I’m having a hard time believing that.”

“Y/N, if you believed that Jaemin wasn’t a shitbag for the past four weeks and all the time before that in his life, then you can believe in yourself right now for two minutes and listen to me,” Lana says firmly, clutching onto your shoulders and forcing you to look her in the eye as she continues on, “Remember the Barbie movie? He’s just Ken. Ken doesn’t have a good day unless Barbie looks at him.”

“Yeah, like channel your inner Gina Linetti. Listen to Chelsea Peretti. ‘Men used to hunt.’ What’s Jaemin doing? He’s pushing twenty and doing aegyo on camera,” Moon chimes in, and Lana nods furiously in agreement before elbowing Yangyang in his rib not-so-subtly. “Contribute to the conversation, Yang.”

“Hold on, I’m thinking,” Yangyang says, pausing in the middle of your room and placing his hands on his hips.

“Oh congrats, I didn’t know you could do that. But stop because you’re not good at it at all,” Moon says, completely ignoring the dirty look he throws at her immediately. The little exchange brings a small smile to your face and it feels nice to laugh. You’ve forgotten how to do that. You miss your friends. You’re grateful for them for not giving up on you when you already have.

“Come on, let’s go see ‘Crazy Rich Asians.’ It’ll be fun. We can watch Lana fangirl over seeing her favorite actor,” Moon encourages you, and Yangyang nods in agreement. “Yeah, she picked a better man after the Jaehyun fiasco.”

“Oh my god, let it go. I didn’t like him that much,” Lana huffs softly, grabbing one of your spare pillows and launching it square into his face in retaliation, and he lets out out a high pitched shriek that makes you giggle.

“Weren’t you gonna go see it with your best friend, Yang?” You ask, glancing over at him and he shakes his head, a slightly sour expression on his face. “Nah, she’s going with Dejun already.”

“So unfortunately, we’re stuck with him now,” Moon says solemnly as Yangyang immediately throws her a dirty look. The look on his face makes you laugh, and it makes you feel a little better and your heart a little lighter.

You shouldn’t have to beg someone to love you; the right person will never make you beg. The right person would never chip away at you, erasing different parts of you, until you fit their picture perfect mold, until there’s nothing left of you. You would never have to call your friends at 4 am, drunk and crying for their validation, praying to whatever higher being is up there for them to take you back. Your friends have never looked at the scars and freckles dotting your skin and suddenly deemed you as unlovable. Your best friend wouldn’t call you fat and point out every single one of your insecurities. You are not unlovable because you decided to eat a third taco or decided to not wear makeup today or didn’t shave your legs. You may fight with your parents and siblings, but never once have you felt unloved by them. Never once did you have to get on your knees and plead for them to love you back.

You know you are worthy of love because your friends and family make it look so easy. They have shown you what love is really like time and time again. You’ve been a shitty friend these past few months, prioritizing a boy over the ones who really matter. They’ve been so patient with you this entire time, and with an open heart, you realize that it is time you finally start properly loving them and yourself too.

You are loved.

xi. that’s so not fetch!

Jaemin slinks out of the lecture hall, noting the dirty looks your friends have sent him from the other side of the room. He’s been standing outside of the classroom before the session starts for the past few weeks in hopes of catching you, looking like a complete creep (and definitely feeling like one).  But what’s he to do when you wouldn’t return any of his texts or calls? It’s humiliating, and he feels smaller than an ant under a microscope.

He pretends to leave class early, staking out in the bathroom across from the classroom. Counting down the minutes, he sees the first wave of students pouring out from the classrooms and finally spots you. His heart jumps to his throat, and his hands begin to grow clammy.

You’re back to wearing your loose jeans and basic t-shirts, your favorite purple scrunchie wrapped around your wrist and an old Jansport backpack slung over your shoulder, decorated with pins of all those familiar characters from his favorite anime. Your face is bare, aside from tinted lip balm, and you’re smiling. You’re laughing at something your friend next to you says, and with a sinking heart, Jaemin realizes that perhaps maybe you are pretty in the slightest way.

He finds himself taking one step towards you, then another, maneuvering around the other students rushing to leave. He’s getting closer and closer, if he called out your name, you would hear him. But you wouldn’t stop for him this time. He knows that.

Jaemin is getting closer, just a few more steps until he can just stretch his hand out and tap your shoulder, and his heart is pounding so hard in his chest until a pretty manicured hand grabs his upper arm lightly.

“Jaemin? What are you doing here?” 

He pauses, turning around and seeing Somi staring back at him in surprise as she continues, “I thought you don’t have any classes at this time.”

“Yeah, I—” he hesitates, glancing over at your retreating figure and Somi follows his gaze, her eyes softening as she lets go of his arm.

“Oh, were you waiting for her? Sorry about that,” she apologizes, pulling away and he shakes his head, shrinking back. Maybe it was for the better that you got away. It’s probably a sign from the universe telling him to let it go.

“No, it’s okay. She doesn’t want to talk to me anyway,” Jaemin admits at last, starting to slink off, and Somi furrows her eyebrows, a puzzled expression gracing her face as she hurries slightly to catch up with him, matching his pace. He exits the building, crushing the graded economics midterm with a red 89 circled at the top in his fist and shoving it haphazardly into the side pocket of his backpack usually reserved for his water bottle.

“What are you talking about? The two of you are practically glued at the hip. She adores you,” she laughs softly, tilting her head slightly as she glances over at him. He ignores her look, continuing on his way off of campus and towards his safe haven: a small dog friendly boba shop snug in between a bookstore and a 24 hour laundromat he frequents more often than he likes to admit.

 “I honestly thought you’d ask her out at some point.”

Jaemin winces at that, her light response rubbing salt into his open wounds, stitches torn and bleeding, and he spits out the next words defensively, his pride rearing its ugly head again. “No way. I never liked her like that. She’s not my type at all. Have you seen her?”

“What is wrong with you?” Somi frowns at him, stopping in her tracks, and he halts, unable to look at her and throwing out a dismissive “What?” In her direction.

“Why are you talking about her like that? I thought you liked her,” she answers, staring at him in disbelief, and he curls his fingers into fists, gripping tightly as a multitude of conflicting emotions war inside of him. He starts to walk again, barely glancing over at Somi.

“She was just my tutor. I passed my midterm, so I don’t need to be around her anymore.” He responds weakly, uncurling and recurling his fingers into fists as he desperately tries to stay calm.

It was so much easier to pretend around his other friends. Aside from Jeno, they always took his words at face value, never one to pry. And Jeno would never push him, knowing that he would eventually come to him at his own pace. But Somi? He’s forgotten about how she can be after she’s been so busy with her schedule, missing out from the majority of hang outs for her social work and events, and their class schedules never overlapped. She can spot a lie a mile away. She actually cares. In a way, she reminds him of you, and he can’t bear to meet her gaze anymore.

“She’s your friend,” Somi retorts, following him into the boba shop, briefly stopping to pet the adorable Samoyed wagging its tail near the entrance. “You spent more time with her than any of us, except maybe Jeno. And you weren’t just studying in the library. I’ve seen her on your finsta and close friend stories.”

“Okay, and now she’s not. She’s not my friend anymore,” Jaemin answers sharply, punching his order into the self service machine. “It happens. People stop being friends. So back off, Somi.”

“Jeez, what is your problem?” she snaps back, following him towards the back, settling on a pillow in one of the comfortable nooks converted into a small seating area across from him. “I caught you following Y/N, and now you say you’re not friends?”

Jaemin hesitates, fiddling with one of the decorative pillows in his lap. “We got into an argument.”

“Yeah, but friends fight. You can apologize, right?”

Jaemin is silent.

Somi stares at him, and he wants to curl into himself. It’s the very same look you gave him before you shut the door in his face, and he feels the bile in his throat already. Her voice is quiet. “Jaemin, what did you do?”

“I—,” he whispers, breaking off and clenching his fists. He is already replaying that moment in his head, seeing the look of utter devastation on your face, and he wants to run away. The ugly truth is front and center, and he is unable to ignore it any longer.

 “I fucked up, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” Jaemin bursts out, burying his face in his hands and unable to face his friend. He closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. “I said some shitty things to her, some really fucked up stuff.”

“Like fucked up as in messy drunk thoughts or fucked up, fucked up?” Somi says softly, hesitantly, as if she doesn’t want to believe her friend is the worst of the worst. Jaemin’s heart sinks even lower than rock bottom as he continues to hang his head low.

“I…” Jaemin’s voice is less than a whisper as he finally confesses the horrible truth to someone for the first time. His voice cracks as he recalls every single disgusting thing and insecurity he flung back into your face.

“I said that it would be stupid for her to believe in love at first sight, that she wasn’t up to my standards, that it’s her fault, that I was ashamed of her, ashamed that I even liked her because of the way she looked.”

The silence is deafening, and Jaemin feels the same wave of humiliation wash over him as it did on that very night. Somi is speechless, and he can’t bear to look at her, one hundred percent knowing that there would be a raw look of utter disgust and horror on her face because that is the exact way he would look at himself. He sits there in silence as the guilt and shame pile up even higher; he is past the point of wallowing in self pity, already drowning and gasping for breath.

“Jaemin… she was your friend,” she murmurs, gazing at him, mouth agape as the shock finally settles in, and he flinches slightly at the past tense. “She actually cared about you. She made you happy.”

“I know,” he says softly.

“She was the best thing that ever happened to you.” Somi continues quietly.

Jaemin sucks in a sharp breath, biting his bottom lip. “I know.”

“Then why?”

Because I was stupid, he thinks silently, Because I am a coward. Because she embarrassed me. She made me feel small. She made me feel insignificant. She made me look at myself in the mirror, and for the first time in my life, I absolutely hated what I saw staring back at me.

“I don’t know,” Jaemin whispers, staring down at his lap in resignation and unable to swallow the truth.

He knows.

xii. you can’t sit with us.

You continue to avoid Jaemin in Macroeconomics, choosing to slip into class at the very last minute. You see him waiting in front of the classroom every session for the past three weeks, searching for you, but you opt to go to the professor’s office hours every time before class and end up walking with her to class as she answers your questions about the assigned readings and problems. Alice saves you a seat in the front row, and you never told her but you’re grateful when you realize she must have asked her other friends to sit around the two of you, effectively barricading Jaemin from any attempt at sitting next to you. Finals week comes and goes with  the winter break following suit, and you think he has finally given up on any attempt at reaching you.

But life has an unfortunate penchant for bringing up things—or people—you wish to forget when you least expect it. It was supposed to be an ordinary Thursday four weeks into the spring semester, and you’re exiting your last class of the day, tucking your laptop into the cute tote bag you bought from the New York Strands bookstore as you walk across campus.

“Y/N.” Jaemin appears in front of you, and suddenly, all the air in your lungs seem to have been sucked out. It’s almost embarrassing how two months of self progress can be toppled over as easily as a house of cards. Your brain says to hate him, but one glance at him still has you weak in the knees. You take a deep breath, counting to three before walking around and ignoring him entirely.

“Please, can we just talk for five minutes? I’m sorry.” He desperately reaches out for you, and you can see some people starting to take note of the two of you, their gazes on your back.

“Leave me alone, Jaemin.” You continue to walk away, hiking up the strap of your bag higher over your shoulder, desperately trying to quell the stupid colony of butterflies in your stomach that have laid dormant for so long. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Please, just five minutes—three minutes—and I’ll leave you alone forever. Listen to me,” he says in a quiet tone. It was an order, a request, and a plea all at once.

You pause, scrutinizing him for a few moments before grabbing his arm and dragging him away from prying eyes. You stop on the secluded side of the building underneath the magnolia trees before dropping his hand. “You have two minutes. Talk.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Good to know you’re self aware. You’re finally experiencing some character growth.”

Jaemin grimaces at your stony expression. “Okay, that was deserved. I truly am sorry, Y/N. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have lashed out at you, and I’m an asshole who took advantage of you. You do deserve better. You deserve someone better than me. But I want to be that person. You make me a better person.”

You stay quiet, and Jaemin fidgets around. “Is that… is that okay? I know it’s selfish of me, but—”

“You’re right, that is selfish of you.”

Jaemin falls silent at that, face flushing before he speaks up meekly, “Can’t we start over? Try again?”

In that moment, you truly pity the boy in front of you. The lost expression on his face tells it all as he desperately clutches onto whatever lifeline you’re willing to toss out. But he’s causing you to drown, and you need to cut the cord and put yourself first for once. Maybe you can change him. But you can’t do this to yourself again.

You take a deep breath and pinch yourself, reminding yourself that this is the same boy who broke your heart because it wasn’t pretty enough for him. “There is no trying again. You never tried, and I’m done trying for you. Jaemin, you don’t love me. You’ve never felt that way towards me.”

“Yes, I have! I do! I really do,” he protests, and you shake your head, taking a step back. He starts to take one step forward towards you and hesitates, staying in his original spot. Your gaze is cold, and he finds himself wishing that you would look at him in the way you used to.

“You love the idea of me: the one you built up in your head,” you say, tone growing quiet. “But I’m nothing like her. To some degree, I think I might be the first genuine connection you ever made with a girl. You liked the way I felt about you and how I acted for you. I changed everything about myself for you, I would’ve followed you anywhere, I would’ve done anything for you, and you took advantage of that. You took advantage of the fact that I love you.”

You may not truly know what love is, but you know it’s something he never gave you. It stings, knowing that even after all of this, you still secretly, desperately long for the type of love you know will always be out of your reach. A part of you wants to believe him, but this time, you listen to your mind instead of your heart.

Jaemin’s head shoots up at your confession, eyes widening in belated realization, and you curl your lips inward, biting your lower lip. You love him. You love him, he now knows, and to your surprise, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Three steps forward and two steps back is still one step in the right direction.

“One day, you’re gonna find someone who’s finally enough for you—someone who’s worth making pancakes for,” you say wistfully, pausing for a minute before gathering the courage to continue.

“And you’re gonna fall in love with them. Like really love them. You’re gonna love them so much that you’ll try your hardest to be enough for them. You’re gonna try so fucking hard to be the one they want, the one they love, that you’ll do anything for them. You’ll even change yourself for better—or for worse.” You grip the strap of your tote bag even tighter, a dull pang in your heart making its appearance, and Jaemin winces, lowering his eyes as the regret and guilt pools into his stomach.

“But sometimes, it won’t be enough. It’s not going to be enough,” you continue, swallowing hard. “And it’ll never be enough for them. You’re willing to move heaven and earth for them, but they won’t notice. Or maybe they don’t even care. No matter how hard you try to love them, it won’t matter unless they want you. Unless they choose you.  And it’ll hurt like hell. It’ll hurt every single time you see them, every time you hear them, every time you think of them.”

Your voice softens, shaking slightly as you take in a wavering breath before pushing forward. “And when it hurts, you’re going to think of me. You’re going to remember me because that’s when you’ll understand what it feels like. That’s when you’ll know how I felt. How it feels to not be enough. How it feels to have your heart ripped to shreds by someone you care about—someone you love.”

His heart drops, and you give him a wistful smile before it quickly disappears, and your expression schools into one of indifference. You continue to walk forward confidently, brushing past his frozen figure. You see your friends waiting for you on the other side of the lawn, and you look over your shoulder at Jaemin one last time, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself.

“And you know what? I hope to fucking god it hurts you as much as you hurt me.”

The world continues to spin, you keep moving forward, and he remains rooted in his spot, unable to look away from you. There are so many Barbies and Kens out there, so many more Na Jaemins who will come into your life and sweep you off your feet, and you’ll make them feel special and more than a pretty face, he belatedly realizes, he’s disposable and so easily replaceable, but there’s only ever going to be one you. 

As he watches you walk away, Jaemin thinks he is starting to understand.

EPILOGUE.

Life likes to play cruel jokes, and the senior year gives you the most hilarious one of all in the form of your final capstone project. Last you heard about Jaemin, he had switched his major to pre med (which was ironic to you since that field would require him to care about other people, which he clearly proved to be incapable of). However, your university decided to implement a cross collaboration between the various schools, and it’s just your luck that you find yourself paired up with Jaemin. Giving him a tight smile as you take a seat across from him in the library room he reserved, you take out your laptop.

Jaemin had asked earlier if you wanted to request a new assigned partner, but you highly doubt any professor would switch up a pairing on account of one person being guilty of being the greatest asshole to ever exist (Plus, you’ll come across many guys like him in your field of work, so you might as well start building up your tolerance now).

It is the final time you will meet up with him before the big presentation, and the two of you work together in silence, only breaking it to discuss the project topic. It is neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, settled somewhere in between—kind of like a purgatory for relationships. You’ve stopped thinking about him a while ago already, but seeing someone who once was a part of your life always brings back memories, whether wanted or not.

“I met someone.”

Jaemin breaks the ice, unable to hold it back any longer. He feels like he’s going to explode if he doesn't get this off of his chest. There is a slight pause in your writing before you resume, but he knows you are listening.

“I met her after… after our…” He trails off. He doesn’t know what to call it—what the two of you had. An almost relationship. “… After us.”

You continue to write, taking note of several points to be discussed based on your slide. He puts down his pen, clasping his hands together as he fiddles with one of the rings wrapped around his fingers.

“I made her blueberry pancakes.”

You sharply inhale for a brief millisecond before you jot down another bullet point. One, two, three, four, five bullet points until you can breathe normally again. You’re twenty two years old, but you suddenly feel like you’re eighteen again. You sometimes loathed your younger self, but because of her, you learned so many things (Forgiveness is one of them).

“I don’t know what else to do, except keep making her pancakes.” Jaemin sits there idly for a few moments, entirely unaware of your inner turmoil, before he laughs derisively, “She’s in love with my best friend. She never told me, but I can just tell.”

There’s another pause from him. Staring down at his notebook, he swallows hard, the lump in his throat never fully going away. His voice cracks as he whispers out his question:

“Does it ever stop hurting?”

Your pen stops moving across the paper, dropping to the side. There’s a black scribble from where it fell. You still continue to look at the index card, focusing on the college ruled lines until they become a mosaic blur of blue, black, and white.

“Eventually.”

Your tone is impassive, and his head snaps up at your reply. You pick up the pen again. You don’t look at him, but you know he’s staring at you, an unrecognizable expression in his eyes.

Perhaps, it would have been different if you had met the present day him back then instead. Perhaps, it would’ve worked out. Maybe he would have made another girl fall in love with him, broke her heart, and come out unscathed. Or maybe he would still be the same as his past self if he hadn’t met you. It’s the butterfly effect; you don’t know what would have happened, but you don’t care. Not anymore.

By now, you have mourned him for longer than you have loved him.

“Y/N, you were never hard to love. I was bad at loving. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

And this time, you know he truly means it—that Jaemin truly understands. It is good that he has learned and tried to become a better person. You just wish it didn’t have to come at the expense of you.

Your first love teaches you what love isn’t.

The threads holding the pieces of your heart together these past three years have always been so fragile. Just one tug at the heart strings, and everything unravels so easily, like grains of sand slipping through your fingers. You’ve nearly forgotten what heartbreak feels like, the old wounds opening up for a long forgotten friend that you had prayed you would never meet again.

You discover that it hurts even more the second time around.

“I wish I fell in love with you back then.”

His tone is forlorn, a silent resolution wrapped in happenstance. You continue to write down more notes for your part of the presentation, the soft scritches of your pen against paper almost masking your quiet response, and Jaemin nearly misses it.

“So did I.”

[norrisprincess]

Not Another Fangirl

summary: After being a fan of the McLaren team, you got some tickets sponsored by McLaren and, to your not-so-great surprise, you met Lando Norris, and maybe you two will end up having more than a fan/racer relationship.

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fan!Influencer!Reader

warnings: fluff, use of yn, and the characters fall in love very quickly

author note: I'm sorry for any spelling mistakes. English isn't my first language, and I used Google Translate for some things! If you find anything I need to improve, don't hesitate to let me know!

It was a hot day in the paddock, still, your steps were quick and excited since after making posts on instagram supporting the McLaren team for several months you finally had gotten a paddock club pass —sponsored by McLaren— for the F1 race.

After walking for several minutes, one of the McLaren team managers started giving you a short tour of the garage talking about how happy they were because of the wins they had this season ,and then, you saw him, Lando Norris, THE Lando Norris, you had to blink twice to make sure it wasn't some kind of dream but it was real, he was real. Your eyes looked at him but in that same instant The McLaren manager started to talk about the plans they had for this weekend race and you lost sight of him as quickly as you had seen him.

You sighed a little and the manager noticed because at that very moment she changed the subject.

“By the way, I've seen your posts on Instagram and I see that you're a big fan not only of the team but also of...someone...someone named Lando”

You blushed a little and started laughing nervously while shaking your hands a little.

“Don’t say that! Im just another fangirl!”

“Yeah, sure.” she said before letting out a giggle and leading you a little deeper into the garage.

“So it's okay if I introduce you in person to them right? Since you're just another fangirl.”

She said, and started dragging you until she reached a room where Oscar and Lando were sitting, chatting a little. They laid their eyes on you in the moment you entered the room.

“Hey Saski, who is she?”

Oscar said slowly His tone of voice was soft —still the confusion was noticeable in his voice. Then he started to look you and then to look Saskia.

“She's a fan who wanted to meet you guys! She got nervous as soon as I mentioned introducing you in person. She’s so cute, isn't she?”

Lando was the first to get up from his seat and take your hand to shake it a little making your face turn in a bright red making him smile a little before introducing himself.

“Well hello there, Im Lando, Lando Norris, but I guess that, if you are here it’s because you already know me and Oscar, don’t ya?”

He said in a tone that was somewhere between mocking, kind and maybe a little flirtatious, which made you smile inevitably.

“yes Im..Im a big fan of you guys.”

Saskia smiled a little before her phone rang and she picked it up to see who it was and immediately She looked at you three.

“Im sorry guys, I really need to take this call…but, I will let her at your care! I will be back soon, promisse!”

She said and left the room leaving you alone in that room with Oscar and Lando.

There was a brief silence before Oscar decided to open his mouth.

“so…what’s your name?”

───────── 🧡 ─────────

Y/NLaren ✓

Liked by oscarpiastri, lando, and 772,809 others Y/NLaren ✓ Best.Day.Of.My.Life 🏎️🧡

comments 641,930

user1 OMG SHE DID IT! MY BABY MEET LANDO 💖💕

lando it was fun 😝 ♥︎ liked by the author

user2 So proud! 🎊

user3 omg you look so pretty!

user4 LET’S GOOOOO 🗣️🔥

oscarpiastri best day fr! ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ user5 OSCAR AND LANDO ARE HERE!

user6 They grow up so fast 🤧🥺

user7 GO GIRL!!!!!!

───────── 🧡 ─────────

It had been a week since you met Lando and Oscar. Today had been a very busy day, and you needed a break, so you layed down on your bed.

You placed your phone down and rested it on your chest with a small smile before a notification appeared on your home screen.

It was a message from an unknown number, but you decided to see who it was just in case it was a friend of yours from a new number.

You smiled before turning off your phone and leaving it on your nightstand, you covered yourself with your sheets and went to sleep immediately while you felt your heart almost jump out of your chest.

───────── 🧡 ─────────

The next morning arrived, and you were awake even before the alarm clock, you were furtively looking in your closet for something to wear since a special day deserved a special outfit.

Your hands moved quickly through the clothes you had, you were looking for something that would make Lando have his jaw on the floor as soon as he saw you.

You sighed and were going to close the closet, but before that, a box in the deepest part of your closet caught your attention, making you open it again to take that box wrapped in pink paper, that paper soft to the touch and it seemed like that box had never been opened.

You opened the box only to find a dress that you had bought a few months ago but hadn't worn since you felt it wasn't what you were looking for at that specific moment, and here you were, thanking all the gods that you hadn't worn it since thanks to that the dress looked like new.

You placed the dress on the bed along with a small purse before skipping to the bathroom. Tonight would be perfect.

───────── 🧡 ─────────

“Hairstyle? Done..Makeup? Done..Are I missing something?..”

You were pacing around the room, putting the finishing touches on your look until you heard the doorbell ring and quickly moved towards the front door.

You opened the door only to find Lando holding a bouquet of flowers, a little blushing.

“hi lando!”

“Heyy y/n, are you—wow…you look..fantastic”

Lando said a little dumbfounded before shaking his head a little.

“these are for you”

He handed you the flowers, they were white tulips, they were beautiful, you took them in your hands before looking into his eyes with a slight blush that was hidden thanks to the blush you were wearing.

“Thank you Lando..They are really beautiful”

You said and entered your house to place the flowers in a vase with water.

“are you ready?”

Lando asked, watching you return to the front door with your handbag.

“For you? Always”

───────── 🧡 ─────────

Y/NLaren ✓

Liked by lando, and 642,989 others

Y/NLaren ✓ Thanks for this day 💕 @ lando

comments 230,563

lando thank YOU for comming ❤️ ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ user8 OMGG

↳ user9 y/n is going to be the next f1 wag 🤭🫢

↳ user10 SO TRUE 🎉🔥

user11 YOU GUYS LOOK SO CUTE TOGETHER ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ lando ofc we look cute together 😉 ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ Y/NLaren 🥰

user12 LANDO AND Y/N 💍

user13 couple material 🙊

↳ user14 true

user15 I love your dress!! 👗 ♥︎ liked by the author

user16 pretty

user17 Im so happy for the both of you ❣️

───────── 🧡 ─────────

The sun came through the curtains of your dorm and rested on your face, it felt pretty warm in your skin.

The birds were singing and there was finally a moment of peace after a few stressful weeks.

You shifted a little in the bed only to feel large hands on your waist causing you to jump a little and sit quickly on the bed.

“What—Lando?!”

You leaned against the headboard watching Lando rub his eyes and yawn.

“good morning”

He said in his sleepy voice which made your heart beat a little faster and your cheeks to turn red before you shook your head a little and spoke again.

“no..this can’t be happening I-”

“hey..it’s ok”

Lando said as he got up a little and he sat next to you in the bed.

“Look, I know this can be really sudden for you and I know that we’ve know each other for just a few months, but please, I really want you to give me a chance. You've changed my life in ways no one else has in years in a short period of time. Please, I want you to give me a chance, I just need one chance to prove you I’m enough and to prove you how much you mean to me.”

You looked into Lando's eyes before sighing a little and looking away.

“Lando...I...I need time..this is sudden and beside I really like you I still need time to think about this…you didn’t make anything wrong to prove me you’re enough because I already know you are…I just need to think this a few more days ok?”

Lando looked at you and nodded, he took your hand and caressed it a little before getting out of bed and putting on his clothes and shoes.

He looked at you a last time before opening your dorm door and going out.

───────── 🧡 ─────────

The days passed and your ideas were still not clear, you had nothing sure, the only thing you could be sure of was that you liked Lando, but you knew you needed those days to think clearly, the simple fact that you liked him did not mean that you should accept him immediately without thinking about it first.

Your hands nervously played with the cover of your cell phone before, with trembling and slightly sweaty hands, you decided to enter Lando's chat after having hesitated for at least an hour or two.

You wrote and deleted the message over and over again, you didn't know what to say or how to start, you wanted to get straight to the point but you didn't feel that it was a topic that you two should talk about via chat or a call.

You took a deep breath and moved a few strands of hair behind your ear as you anxiously bit your lip.

Your gaze wandered for a moment to the flowers Lando had given you on your first date, some tulips were already wilted but still looked beautiful while the light of the setting sun softly illuminated them.

Your gaze returned to your phone. You had already made a decision and you had to stand firm. You knew that decision would have consequences, but what did it matter? Nothing mattered the instant your fingers touched the screen before you finally sent the message you had been tormenting yourself for all these days.

“Lando, we need to talk”

───────── 🧡 ─────────

Y/NLaren ✓

Liked by lando, oscarpiastri, mclaren and 899,790 others

Y/NLaren ✓ After a few weeks, conversations, and mutual understanding, we've begun a journey together. Something I never expected was to end with you. You gave me the best days of my life, and you promised to keep doing so. I also want to promise you something: my love and eternal loyalty. I love you forever. 💖 @ lando

comments 4

lando I love you too ❤️😻 ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ Y/NLaren mwah 🫶🏼

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───────── 🧡 ─────────

lando ✓

Liked by Y/NLaren, oscarpiastri, mclaren and 946,400 others

lando ✓ Thank you for giving me a chance. I promise to be here for you through the good times and the bad times too, no matter what. You're like the blue of my sky, and with you, I feel complete. I love you. I know We have a long road ahead of us of good things and bad things, but, together we can overcome it, because at the end of the day you are not another fangirl, your are my girl. 💐🧡 @ Y/NLaren

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───────── 🧡 ─────────

Taglist!:

no one for the moment 👎🏼

[archangeliswriting]

Debunking a Dinosaur Movie | S. Reid

Pairing: Sub!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: When your boyfriend decides to point out the scientific inaccuracies of a movie you like, you make him pay for it.

Content Warning: s2 glasses reid is a warning, edging, dry humping, handjob, unprotected pinv

Author's note: first official smut fic kinda nervous. ive never written a sub character before but pls accept my humble offering. all the info here is from google and i dont think the research he mentions aligns with the s2 timeline but who cares we’re here for sub spence anyway not accuracy

A thud hits the floor of your apartment as Spencer drops his bag by the couch. He falls back unceremoniously on the cushions and lets out a sigh and you can't help but chuckle lightly at the sight of him, limbs sprawled out and head leaned back, eyes shut as he savors the feeling of the softness of your couch again after spending hours on his office chair.

“Rough day?” You ask as you wipe your hands on a kitchen towel after finishing the last of your dishes.

Spencer hums, “Papers upon papers upon papers..”

“I thought you liked paperwork.” You snort as you make your way to him, he turns his head to watch as you do so. His nose scrunches and his glasses shift slightly, your heart almost bursts out of your chest at the adorable sight, “Not when it feels like I’m drowning in it.”

You gaze at the way he looks right now; relaxed, the position of his head has his neck bared to the open, you want to sink your teeth in them, his legs spread wide and oh, it makes you dizzy. You avert your eyes and find his own already staring into you, a small smile on his pink lips. You're not exactly subtle with ogling him, never have been.

Spencer extends a hand to you, you take it and he leads you to sit on his lap. He twines his fingers with yours as he brings them up to his lips, he places a soft kiss and asks, “And what did you do today?”

“Not much,” You murmur, “Bought some groceries, laundry, and, oh! Jurassic Park came on the TV so naturally, I sat through the whole thing.” Your head tilts with a shy smile.

The boy grins, “Naturally.” His hands move to hold your waist as amusement fills his face, “I don’t get your fascination with it, it's not even accurate!”

A scoff leaves your lips at his statement and your hands come up to his shoulders, “Okay, first of all, dinosaurs are cool, I’m sorry your big brain doesn't understand that, and second, who cares about accuracy? It’s a sick movie. They literally brought back dinosaurs!” Spencer can’t help his little laugh at your defensive tone.

“I care about accuracy.” His fingers lightly squeeze your side and there goes that nose scrunch again, you fight the urge to just lean in and bite it. “You can't just clone dinosaurs through preserved DNA because it degrades over time due to environmental factors, they eventually break down and it would be extremely difficult to extract it from fossils. Even if it was preserved in amber, like in the movie, complete ancient DNA would not survive millions of years.”

And just like that, his mouth is rambling and his hands are moving against your waist, as if he can't stop the gestures to accompany his words but at the same time does not want to let go of you.

“They actually did a research once using a technique that sequences everything within a sample so it can pick up small strands of DNA. They used samples that were around 10,600 years old and they tried that technique to extract DNA from insects trapped inside copal, which is resin that hasn't fully hardened into amber, and they couldn't find any viable DNA. If they couldn't extract from copal then it's unlikely they could do it with amber.”

You're not sure if you heard every single word that he said but you hummed in response. How could you focus when Spencer looks so delectable in front of you? The way he’s looking at you right now with those soft eyes of his behind glasses, brows a little furrowed as he awaits your response. As handsome as he looks when he’s spewing science facts like it's nothing, you're not exactly sure if you appreciate him ruining Jurassic Park.

As if a little devil on your shoulder whispered in your ear, an idea forms in your head. If he wants to debunk the movie then you’ll let him. “Mhm, what else, baby? Wanna hear all of it.” You murmur as you tuck a stray of hair behind his ear, you don't miss the way his cheeks slightly turn pink.

Spencer’s brows furrow further, surprised that you’d want to hear about the inaccuracies of your favorite movie, but because he likes to give you what you want, he obliges. “Even if the DNA somehow was preserved and they successfully extracted it, and cloned it, there's also the issue of the dinosaurs’ ability to live in our environment.”

“What do you mean?” You tilt your head, egging him on to continue. Just as he opens his mouth to do so, you move against his crotch ever so slightly, so slightly that Spencer isn't sure that it happened at all or if you had even meant to do it but still, his breath hitches and he blanks for a moment.

Spencer realizes that maybe he shouldn't have started this discussion at all because now all he wants is to feel you. He’s not sure if he can tell you all the science when his want is slowly clouding every corner of his mind.

Your finger comes up to tap his cheek and softly ask, “Hey, where'd you go, genius? You haven't answered my question, something bothering you?”

The way you say it with a little glimmer in your eyes makes him think there's something being plotted against him but he can't bring himself to further think about it because your thumb is now stroking his cheek in delicate little lines, all while your eyes never leave his.

He swallows and shakes his head, “No, uh,” What was he talking about again? Oh, right. “The Earth's environment then is different than now. It's possible that some dinosaurs wouldn't be able to survive in our environment. Tyrannosaurus rexes or T-rexes, for example, they—” Spencer cuts off with a gasp when you move your hips against him again, firmer this time and there's no mistaking it for an accident.

“They what, hm?”

“Evil woman.” He whispers, you laugh and Spencer thinks he's fucked. His cock is stirring in his pants and he's suffering by the second.

You can feel him getting harder and the way his struggle is so obvious on his face makes it all the more fun for you. “Keep going or you won't get what you want.” Your voice is honey sweet and to make yourself clear, you lean in close to his lips and give a delicious roll on his growing erection that has his eyes fluttering shut, a small sound emitting from his pretty lips, even it affected you. While you enjoy seeing Spencer worked up, you’re suffering just as much. It's taking a lot of willpower to refrain yourself from just kissing him breathless and riding him until he's crying.

You press your lips to the corner of his mouth, trailing kisses down to his jaw, his breath is hot against your cheek and you feel the heaving of his chest beneath your palms.

“Please,” Spencer whispers when you kiss down his neck.

“You know what to do if you want more, honey.” You nudge his nose and he looks at you with the prettiest doe eyes known to man because Spencer does know what he needs to do but it was worth a shot.

Ignoring the way you start running your hands up and down his chest, he does what you want, he’s a good boy after all.

“T-rexes lived in the Cretaceous period which would be about 145 to 66 million years ago and oh,” He almost whimpers when you start moving against him again, this time you don’t stop. You resume your kisses on his neck and Spencer is so hard it hurts, “The average global temperature at that time was about 4°C higher than today–” He moans when you suck on that sweet spot on his neck and his hips buck up without meaning to. “They’d have to adapt to lower temperatures.”

You squeeze his shoulder to try to stop your eyes from closing and focus on his moving lips but the friction feels so good against your covered core that you can't help your own sounds of pleasure. His fingers find their way under your shirt and grip the skin tightly, maybe it's a little cheating that he's trying to guide your movements so you're humping him harder but you don't say anything.

Heat is coiling in Spencer's stomach, he can't take much more of this, “I can't. Please, touch me.” His voice sounds broken and something about it is so sexy that it increases your arousal tenfold.

“I am touching you, baby.” You coo and dear God, the boy pouts. You want to ruin him.

“Kiss me, please,” Spencer mumbles, doe eyes boring into yours like he knows you love it when he looks at you like that, like a puppy asking for a treat.

You snake a hand to the back of his head and let your lips descend to his. He moans like his thirst has been quenched after being deprived of water for so long. The kiss is messy, it's filthy, and Spencer's head is spinning as he chases each movement of your lips. His pants are so tight, his cock straining underneath them, and when your tongue finds its way inside his mouth? He’s gone. His glasses are in the way but neither of you makes an effort to remove it. He looks hotter with them anyway. Your fingers pull his hair just hard enough that his head tilts back, the moan that leaves his mouth is downright sinful even when it's muffled by your own.

Spencer can't think, there is nothing in his mind except you, your tongue, and your hips rutting against him. He’s so close to coming and he can't believe he's about to cream in his pants, talk about being a loser. Oh, is he sorely mistaken.

As if you could tell he’s close, your hips still and you pull your face away from him. Spencer whines. God, he looks so wrecked, lips are swollen and red, his glasses are crooked and all fogged up. You want to have this image of him engraved in your mind.

“What? No, please, come back,” He almost cries, you have to take his hands to keep him from moving your body against him.

“But you look so pretty like this, Spence.” His cheeks flush a deep rouge and he squirms underneath you, “All fucked out for me and I haven't even touched your cock properly.”

“Fuck, please, please, please,” At this point, Spencer is not above begging on his knees for you to fuck him but then again, he’s never above being on his knees for you. “Please, I’ve been good, haven't I?”

You so desperately want to see if he would actually cry from being deprived of your touch but your cunt is aching and you’re sure you’ve soaked your panties, you're torturing yourself almost as much as you're torturing him, so you give in. You lift yourself up from his lap and make quick work of undoing his belt and pulling his pants, along with his boxers, down his legs. Spencer lets out a groan of relief when his cock is free from its confinement, it slaps against his stomach, flushed red and leaking.

“Look at that,” You hum, “So pretty, baby.”

You swipe a thumb over the tip, a broken moan emitting from Spencer. Spitting on your palm, you wrap your hand around his aching cock and begin stroking him.

“Oh, yes, ngh!–” Spencer wails, head throwing back against the couch and arching into your touch, “Thank you,”

“Always so polite, aren’t you? Such a good boy for me, honey.” You coo, voice all sweet and the praise sends him reeling, meanwhile his pathetic moans has you clenching around nothing.

All it takes is a few more strokes and your voice in his ear, and he’s close again.

“I’m, hngh, I'm so close, please.” He gasps and moans, his jaw slack, he's fucking up into your hand, brows furrowed hard. Your sly chuckle is his only warning before you remove your hand from him, denying him his orgasm once more. Spencer is now fully convinced you're a devil— a devil with an angel’s face, disguised in pretty smiles and sugary sweetness.

Fuck! Just fuck me, please! Spencer is so tempted to let those words just slip out and he wonders if you’d slap him for it, he bites his tongue and decides to not push his luck, although the thought of you slapping him is turning him on more than he'd like to admit. You laugh in his face, cruel and mocking the way he's pouting, and Goddamnit, Spencer is so in love with you.

“I know, baby, I’m so mean, aren't I?” You grab his chin, faux sympathy on your face. He can only whine in response. “Don’t worry, honey, you can have it now.”

With a quick peck on his lips, you lift yourself off his lap to take your shorts and underwear off, Spencer eagerly helping you. You settle on top of him once more, “You ready, baby?”

His head nods so comically fast, you take his cock and let his tip rub up against your clit a couple times, a little whimper leaving your lips at the stimulation after spending so much time focusing on Spencer's pleasure. You slowly sink down on him, a gasp emitting from the both of you, you take a second once he's fully inside because you feel so full it's a little overwhelming.

You want to drag this out a little longer but you've reached a point of pure hornyness that you physically can't bring yourself to take it slow. Poor Spencer almost shouts when you just start bouncing on him, you're so wet and it feels like he’s died and Heaven is in between your legs.

“God, you feel so good, baby, fuck,” You moan out. Spencer's hand has moved up your back, his fingers are gripping your shirt to death, his mouth is moving incessantly, mumbling and slurring out incoherently.

“Look at you going all dumb for me, so pussydrunk you can't even speak properly, huh?” You grab his flushed face, gripping his cheeks so his lips meet in a cute pout.

Spencer whines. “Use your words, pretty, I know that genius brain can do it, come on.” You struggle to get the words out, your body feels like it's on fire, your thighs are aching but you can't stop, not when he feels so delicious inside of you.

“Fuck, feels s’good– ngh, don't stop, please.” He manages to let out, he peels his eyes open and groans, you look so fucking beautiful as you ride him like there's no tomorrow, your mouth formed in a ‘o’ shape and your eyes fluttering shut as you make the prettiest sounds he's ever heard. It's the sight of you that does it for him. He gasps, “I’m so close, fuck,–”

“Not yet.” You grit out as you continue to grind down on him. Spencer feels like he's going to fucking explode. “I can’t, please, I can't!”

Your forehead leans on his, your mouths are so close to each other that he feels your hot breath on his skin, he wants you to kiss him again.

“Just a little more, baby, I promise.” You say as you move faster, desperately chasing your own pleasure. Tears well up in Spencer's eyes, he can't hold his orgasm off and he's certain he’s gonna combust on this couch if he doesn't come soon. The knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter, your moans get higher in pitch and it drowns out Spencer’s pathetic cries, his cock is continuously hitting that sweet spot inside you until you feel like you're about to burst.

“I need to cum, please, can I?” He chokes out. You nod, “Mhm, fuck, cum for me, honey.” Spencer tenses all over, his back arching from the couch as he finally comes, his moans coming out in a whiny pitch. You feel the warmth of his release in you as you hit your own orgasm.

“Fuck, too much!– hngh,” He squirms and cries underneath you as you ride him through your orgasm. When you finally come to a stop, you're both heaving, silent as you come down your highs.

You wipe the single tear that has run down his cheek and place a sweet kiss on his lips. “I love you.” Spencer mumbles and you smile, “I love you too, Spence, even if you don't like Jurassic Park.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, “I won't ever try to get between you and dinosaurs again.”

“Probably a good idea.”

~•~

Do not steal or repost on other platforms without permission.

[its-avalon-08]

would you consider writing a Raikkonen or Vettel reader x grid, where she’s a lawyer w the same fierceness as her brother, and the drivers get into media trouble and she goes all harvey specter on the problem and leaves the drivers speechless/ scared/ impressed/ proud etc. thank you for considering this love your work!!!

objection bitch

✦ pairing - f1 grid x female!lawyer!vettel!reader

✦ genre - all fluff

The FIA had crossed the line. Again. In a shock to nobody.

A new rule had come into place penalizing drivers for swearing in post-race interviews and the race. Ridiculous. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. The grid was in an uproar, but no one had the power to do anything about it. No one except Y/N Vettel.

If there was one person who could go toe-to-toe with the FIA and emerge victorious, it was her. A formidable lawyer, sharp as a blade, and just as relentless as her brother, Sebastian Vettel, in a fight. The drivers had learned long ago not to underestimate her. But this? This was war.

And Y/N was ready as ever.

“What are they gonna do? Fine us for every ‘shit’ or ‘fuck’ we let slip?” Lando scoffed, shaking his head as he, Charles, and Max sat in a conference room waiting for Y/N.

“They already have,” Carlos muttered, tossing a paper on the table. This was unacceptable. How were the drivers not allowed to CURSE? Were they toddlers?!

Y/N entered the room with a folder in hand, slamming it down with a force that made George sit up straighter. “Alright, let’s get one thing straight,” she began, voice crisp. “This rule is unconstitutional, violates multiple freedom of expression precedents, and is fundamentally stupid.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Hamilton said with an approving nod.

Y/N continued, eyes glinting. “The FIA is overstepping. Swearing is not slander, it is not defamatory, and it is not harming anyone except for some pearl-clutching bureaucrats who think drivers should be robots. I am filing a formal challenge.”

“A lawsuit?” Charles asked, eyebrows raised.

“A lawsuit,” Y/N confirmed, leaning forward. “We will argue that this rule is vague, arbitrary, and restricts free speech. We’ll also highlight that no other sport enforces such nonsense. If footballers can scream expletives mid-match and not get fined, why should you?”

Daniel Ricciardo grinned. “You are actually my hero.”

Max, arms crossed, smirked. “This is going to be fun.”

It was finally courtroom day.

The FIA’s lawyers sat across from Y/N, already shifting uncomfortably in their seats. She was poised, calm, and radiating pure authority. Dressed in an all black ensemble she looked like she ate losers for breakfast.

The lead FIA attorney cleared his throat. “Ms. Vettel, the FIA merely wishes to maintain a professional environment in post-race interviews for viewers.”

Y/N tilted her head, her smile sharp. “Define ‘professional,’ then. Because as far as I know, passion is part of the sport. Swearing out of frustration, joy, or sheer adrenaline doesn’t harm anyone. If anything, it makes drivers more relatable. Unless, of course, the FIA prefers that they all sound like pre-programmed AI.”

Murmurs from the audience. The drivers, seated together in the back, exchanged smirks.

“Furthermore,” Y/N continued, “this rule is selectively enforced. Are you prepared to produce data showing that every instance of swearing has caused a dip in viewership or complaints? Or will I have to subpoena past race interviews to prove bias?” (guys im sorry I googled most used lawyer terms so idk if its correct or not)

The FIA’s lawyers hesitated.

Y/N leaned in. “Let’s talk precedents. In 2019, the Court of Arbitration for Sport ruled that sports organizations cannot impose arbitrary speech restrictions unless they are justified by legitimate concerns. Tell me, gentlemen, what legitimate concern does the FIA have?”

The lead attorney fumbled with his papers.

Y/N smirked. “Nothing? Thought so.”

She turned to the judge. “We are requesting an injunction on this rule, as it is vague, inconsistently enforced, and lacks merit. We also seek damages for the fines already imposed.”

The judge glanced at the FIA’s team. “Do you have a counterargument?”

Silence.

Carlos leaned over to Charles. “She’s terrifying.”

“I know,” Charles whispered. “It’s bloody amazing.”

The ruling came swiftly. The swearing fines were scrapped.

The drivers were ecstatic. In celebration, Daniel made it his mission to curse as colorfully as possible in his next interview, just because he could.

Y/N received a round of applause when she walked back into the paddock that weekend. Max, standing off to the side, simply smiled. “Proud of you, schat.”

She nudged him playfully. “You should be. I’m basically the FIA’s worst nightmare now.”

Max grinned. “Oh, you definitely are.”

And she loved it.

Later that night, the drivers sat around in the paddock lounge, laughing as Lando held up his phone, Sebastian's name glowing on the screen.

“Do it, do it!” Charles urged, barely holding back his grin.

Lando hit the call button and put it on speaker. The dial tone rang before Sebastian picked up. “Lando?”

“Seb!” Lando beamed. “Mate, your sister is an absolute legend.”

Sebastian chuckled. “I assume she won?”

“Won? She obliterated them,” Daniel chimed in. “I’ve never seen FIA lawyers look like they wanted to evaporate before today.”

“She literally made them speechless,” George added. “It was… kind of scary.”

Sebastian sighed dramatically. “And to think, I used to help her with her homework.”

“You should be honored, mate,” Max teased. “Your sister might be more feared in F1 than you were.”

Sebastian groaned, but they could hear the pride in his voice. “Don’t tell her that, or she’ll never let me live it down.”

Lando grinned. “Too late.”

[cartierre]

NIGHTS LIKE THIS | ob3

❝ It's night like this when I need your love ❞

synopsis: and if only one night is meant for the two of us, is it worth falling in love for?

pairing: ollie bearman x fem!reader warnings: sweet, flirting, making out, angst, google translate italian word count: 4k

author's note: inspired by 'nights like this' by the kid laroi! there is a name drop towards the end but throughout the majority of the fic, reader's name is not mentioned.

The gym was packed with loud teenagers, all talking at a rapid speed trying to overcome the booming music that echoed through the big speakers. Everyone was dressed in gorgeous evening wear, most of the girls adorned glittery dresses while the boys stuck to traditional black suits. There was some finger food displayed on tables on the side, bowls filled with alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks quenching the students’ and teachers’ thirst. 

Ollie found himself misplaced among the Italian teenagers. He had only moved there a year ago and since he entered Formula Two, he barely attended any of his classes. He wasn’t even sure how exactly he had graduated, just that the heavy burden of getting good grades got lifted from his shoulders. 

At least one less thing he had to worry about.

His parents were long gone, only having stuck around for the official ceremony until they left him to “have fun with his fellow peers”. It’s ironic, he thought, since he didn’t even know most of their names.

The drink in his hand only had a few sips left, the prosecco leaving a bittersweet taste on his tongue. He felt a soft buzz from the alcohol, but ultimately decided against getting wasted with people he didn’t even fully understand. It was partially his fault, he never cared enough to pay attention in his Italian language class. 

“Che tragedia!” (How tragic!) He could hear his Italian teacher in the back of his mind. “Your Italian è terribile!” (Your Italian is terrible!)

Tugging at his tie around his neck, he feared he was close to suffocating from all the noise around him. Placing his drink on some of the tables splattered around the hall, he excused himself to no one in particular before sprinting up the stairs in the hallway leading up to the rooftop. He only found out about the spot a week ago, having got lost inside the school and accidentally ending up there.

The fresh air hit his face, though he immediately noticed that it wasn’t much cooler outside than inside. The Italian weather played against his plans, the sun not even fully set as it smiled against his cheeks.

Pulling his tie loose, Ollie still felt more relieved to have left the sticky gym. He felt stupid for not just going home with his parents, why did he decide to stay? It’s not like he had any friends to celebrate graduation with.

“Seems like I’m not the only one in need of escaping.” 

Only then did Ollie see a girl next to him. 

She leaned against the railing, a cigarette dangling between her manicured fingers. Her hair fell down her back, framing her face softly. She wore a black dress, way more simple than all the other girls he had seen, yet so elegant. He couldn’t help himself but glance at her breasts being pushed together by the dresses neckline. Ashamed, he quickly stopped analysing her.

“Cat got your tongue?” She smirked at him, raising her eyebrow as she took a drag of her cig. “Isn’t that what you English people say?”

“You know me?” He asked, perplexed that she knew about his nationality. Did he look that British?

“I’ve read about you.” She shrugged. “Wanted to know more about the futuro della formula uno, the future of formula one, that is supposedly my classmate.”

“I’m not even a Formula One driver.” Ollie corrected, though he felt the tip of his ears get hot from having such a beautiful girl call him the future of formula one. “And I’m even less of a classmate, probably.”

“Well, officially you are my classmate. Or were.” She smiled. “And once you’ll become a world champion I’ll brag about having been your classmate. Even if I’ve never seen you in person up until now.”

“Not sure about the world champion part, yet.” He shrugged, his hand gripping the railing as if he was about to fall. 

“Oh, he’s so humble.” The girl teased him, giving him a slight punch in the arm naggingly. “Well, the newspapers seem sure about it. You being champion material, or something like that.”

“The newspapers say a lot, whether it’s true or not.” He felt his cheek burn in embarrassment. Ollie wasn’t one to push his ego, he’d rather prove his worth on track than talk big without having anything to show for.

She didn’t say anything. Her eyes scanned over him, as if analysing him from top to bottom. He didn’t know what was going on in her head, but right now he wished he could read her mind. She took another drag of her cigarette, and even if Ollie despised the smell of tobacco, he somehow liked it when she smelled like it. 

Gosh, what was he thinking? He didn’t even know her, yet somehow he felt so serene next to her.

“Why do you think so little of yourself?” She settled to ask after a minute of observing. 

“I don’t.” He simply answered, though his voice was quivering, unsure of what he should’ve said.

“You’re a bad liar.” She chuckled. “Your posture says differently. You’re unsure of yourself and your abilities, but why?”

“I guess…” He cleared his throat, her intense analysis of him humbling him even more. “I guess I don’t want to put the same pressure and expectations everyone puts on me on myself as well.”

He turned to look at her, finally gathering enough courage to do so. Her head was tilted to the side, her lips wrapped around her cigarette to take one final puff before throwing it on the ground and stepping on it. 

“Wanna get out of here?” She asked instead of reacting to his words.

Ollie was taken aback by her request, admiring her boldness of asking straight away rather than talking around it. Without wanting to sound arrogant, Ollie was used to girls asking him for certain things. Sometimes, he loved the attention, especially right after a good race, but with her he felt shier than ever. 

So it surprised him when he answered confidently.

“Sí.” (Yes.)

With another smirk towards him, the girl clearly satisfied with his answer, the two of them sneaked back down again to escape the facility. He sucked in a breath of fear when he saw her grabbing a bottle of prosecco nonchalantly before exiting the school. Ollie was sure they’d get busted for stealing, however none of the teachers seemed to care much as none of them even batted an eye.

“They have enough of that stuff,” She said as she saw his face drenched in worry. “Don’t act like we’re stealing anything valuable. Also, I bet Ferrari has paid them enough to let you pass so think of it as a little gift.”

He had never encountered someone like her, Ollie realised as she popped the bottle the minute they stood outside. Taking a sip straight from the bottle, she let out a sigh. “They have the good one as well.”

Offering him a sip, she pulled out another Vogue cigarette and lit it with her lighter. “I don’t assume you smoke, but regardless, do you want one?” She said as she held out the pack in front of him.

Ollie hesitated a bit, but ultimately declined. He was sticking to the prosecco. 

“Figured.” She shrugged and shoved the pack back into her little purse. 

“So- uh- where to now?” He asked, taking another sip of the drink. He felt himself growing more nervous every minute he spent with her. 

She smiled, taking his hand boldly and running off into a certain direction. Ollie stumbled forward, not expecting her approach, but then took off behind her and followed her blindly. 

At that moment, he would’ve followed her anywhere.

Giggling uncontrollably, she kept turning her head around to him from time to time. Her hair was flowing behind her as if she was from another planet, somewhere where beauty lit up the night. Her beauty certainly lit up his night.

“Come on,” she slowed down, taking small breaths, her cheeks slightly shiny from the sweat. “It’s not far.”

“Where are you taking me?” Ollie’s face was flushed, his locs sticking to his forehead from all the running. The summer air was hitting his face and he felt warm under his suit jacket. 

“It’s a sorpresa!” She just said, opening her mouth slightly and nodding towards the prosecco in his hands. 

His brain malfunctioned for a second, then started acting without thinking. In a smooth motion, he poured some of the liquid into her mouth, accidentally spilling some. The alcohol ran down her chin, trailing down her chest and inbetween her breasts. 

Ollie felt hot, and this time it wasn’t just the summer heat.

She laughed after gulping down the sparkling wine, wiping her chin with her hand, careful not to smudge her lipstick. 

“Ehi!” (Hey!)

Ollie ducked down, as if he would dodge a bullet, from the sudden shrill voice coming from above. The girl kept laughing, ignoring the old woman screaming at the two from her little balcony. 

“Silenzio!” (Be quiet!) The old woman yelled at them again, raising her fist as if to curse them. “È tardi, idioti!” (It’s late, you idiots!)

“Non essere così duro!” (Don’t be so harsh!) The girl yelled back, still giggling. “Vivi un po', nonna!” (Live a little, grandma!) She stretched out her hands like a starfish, twirling around until she stumbled. 

Ollie was quick to wrap his hands around her waist, keeping her from falling to the ground. Only when she was gripping his biceps to steady herself, he realised how close he was to her. 

“Vai via da me!” (Go away from me!) The grandma kept yelling, Ollie not understanding anything the two were saying. “Voi due piccioncini...” (You two lovebirds...) She mumbled and shook her head, making her way inside her house again and leaving the two on their own.

“Arrivederci!” (Bye!) The girl giggled, waving the old lady goodbye as if she didn’t just curse at them.

“Now the last bit I got.” Ollie joked, stepping away from her again. He took a sip from the alcohol, feeling like that was the only source keeping him stable for now. 

“Look at you, little Italian.” She joked back, brushing her hand against his chest before reaching up and loosening his tie even more. She had to step on her toes to reach him, despite being in heels, then patted his chest when she was done. “Don’t want you to suffocate.” She whispered, giving him a flirty look before stepping away and nodding towards the end of the small alley they were in. “This way, follow me.”

When she turned his back to him, he threw his head back and prayed to whoever to help him get through without losing his mind, before following her yet again.

Eventually, and without any other disruptions, the two of them ended up outside a small pizzeria, which surprisingly was still open. There weren’t many people inside, just your local neighbours and a few drunks getting their snack. 

“Aahh!” The owner smiled as he saw the girl enter. “La mia piccola stella!” (My little star!)

“Zio Enzo!” (Uncle Enzo!) She greeted him, sharing their kisses on each cheek as accustomed in Italy. 

They continued talking in Italian, Ollie gathering one or two words here and there from his lessons, but not enough to properly follow their conversation. He realised his teacher would normally talk at a much slower pace, probably to help him understand each word clearly, though now it seemed of little help to him.

“... Formula…?” The owner looked at Ollie, eyeing him up and down. Ollie felt uncomfortable, not knowing what exactly they were talking about, and awkwardly smiled at him. He waved at the owner, not sure what else to do. 

“He’s your friend, no?” Finally, the owner switched to a language Ollie was able to understand. “Il tuo ragazzo?” (Your boyfriend?)

“No, no.” She shook her head, side eye-ing Ollie quickly to see if he had understood what Enzo had asked her. He didn’t seem so, as he stared cluelessly at her.

“Welcome, welcome!” He reached over the counter to greet the young boy, patting his cheek before stretching his arm out to his co-worker. “A pilota di Formula uno in my pizzeria! Francesco, can you believe it?”

“I’m not a Formula One-”

“Una pizza napoletana da asporto per favore.” (One Pizza Napoletana to go, please.) She interrupted him, smiling at the owner sweetly. 

“Ovviamente!” (Of course!) The owner smiled brightly at the two young people. “Pizza Napoletana to go, Francesco, did you hear that?” He turned back to the couple. “Ready in about fifteen minutes. You want something to drink?”

Ollie held up the half empty prosecco bottle, making the owner laugh out loud and nodding in encouragement before getting back to the other customers. 

“So, that’s your uncle's shop?” Ollie asked, trying to open a conversation while waiting for their pizza. 

“Oh no,” The girl shook her head, laughing a bit. “Everybody here calls Enzo their uncle. He’s been here forever, we all grew up eating his pizza.” 

“Oh.” Ollie’s face got hot in embarrassment. 

She laughed at him, slightly punching his arm when she noticed how red he got. “Is that a British thing?”

“What do you mean?” He was confused by her question.

“You get red all the time!” She exclaimed. “I look at you and you’re flushed. At first I was honoured to make you blush, but now I think you’re just like that constantly.”

He was like that constantly just because she was there. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a British thing.” He scratched his neck, his face hot again, lying to her face since he didn’t want to admit how flustered she makes him ever since they met.

“It’s a cute British thing.” She slightly pushed him, grinning from ear to ear. “Don’t stop.”

He couldn’t even if he wanted to.

“Pizza Napoletana for my little stella!” 

Taking the pizza carton, the two bid their goodbyes to Enzo before continuing their way down the small alleys. Along the way, Ollie felt her hand intertwining with his again. He didn’t protest.

“We’re here!” She yelled laughingly, letting go of his hand to run forward. “Come on!”

They found themselves at the beach, the small town behind them glittering in the water as the lights reflected on the surface. There were nearly no people on the beach, surprisingly, and Ollie had to hold back his laughter when he saw the girl getting rid of her shoes to feel the sand between her toes. 

“I love the beach.” She said when he came up to her, pizza in one hand and prosecco in the other. He placed both of it carefully on the ground before taking his jacket off, laying it down onto the sand to somewhat protect them from the sand. 

Sitting down, he realised just how close they were to fit into his jacket. Though he wouldn’t ever complain about it. Sharing the pizza, the two of them were silently enjoying the view and food, sharing a sip of prosecco every once in a while, emptying the bottle. 

It’s gotten late. More and more of the few people around them started packing up their stuff. Ollie’s phone had no more battery left, so he was unsure just what time it was. Looking to his right, he also didn’t care what time it was. 

The two were now laying on the beach, their heads sharing the space on Ollie’s suit jacket. Next to them was the empty pizza carton next to the prosecco bottle. They’d clean it up later. 

“... and that’s Andromeda, named after the Ethiopian princess saved by Perseus. She was chained to a rock, being sacrificed to the sea monster Cetus.” She pointed towards the sky, tracing the star constellation she just talked about. “You see?”

He couldn’t really decipher any of the constellations she pointed out to him, Ollie just liked listening to her talking about something she was passionate about. So he nodded, humming in agreement.

“You’re not paying attention!” She scolded him jokingly, shoving his shoulder with her own and giggling when she noticed how she ripped him out of his trance. 

“No, no, I was!” He tried to defend himself. 

“Really? Then where is Andromeda?” She raised her brow, her lips stretched into a smirk. 

Clearing his throat, Ollie turned his head to look at the stars again, randomly pointing at the bright points decorating the night sky. “See, right there.”

Laughing at his attempt, she just shook her head and took his hand into hers. Stretching his pointy-finger out, she helped him slowly trace the Andromeda constellation. “She’s right here, glowing beautifully above us.” She whispered, her eyes soaking up the beauty of the stars while his eyes were drowning in hers.

Slowly, her hands holding his traced each of his fingers. They went over his knuckles, following the lines on the palm of his hand before stopping on his wrist. None of them talked, enjoying the silence and the feel of each other's skin while the waves splashed softly in the background. 

She felt him staring at her from the side, finally turning to him and meeting his eyes. Their hands were still up in the air, though she dropped hers when he felt his hand coming down. He cupped her face gingerly. 

His thumb traced her cheekbone, just as her fingers used to trace his hand, until they stopped at her lips. Her lipstick had been long gone after they finished the pizza, though Ollie found himself enjoying her natural lips just as much as her painted ones. 

He softly swiped over her lips, feeling the shaky breath she let out on his thumb. He couldn’t stop staring at them, wondering what they’d feel like on his lips, what they’d taste like. 

What she would taste like.

“Now or never.” She whispered, making his eyes snap back at hers. 

He leaned over her, using his elbows and free hand to stabilise himself to not crush her with his weight. “Sì?”

“Sì, Oliver.”

Ollie groaned, his full name sounding so appealing when it came out of her lips, and suddenly he’s never felt so sure about something. 

He leaned down, pressing his lips against hers. He was sure he'd never felt so many butterflies going around his stomach. He had goosebumps all over his body, his face flushed yet again and the nervosity fading away with every passing second.

His hand cupping her face moved to her hair, his fingers entangling with her hair and his body moving more and more on top of her. He felt her hands wandering up his back towards his neck, pulling him towards her. Her hands settled on his chest, her nails scratching over the fabric of his dressing shirt. 

His hand, previously holding him up which now his knees did, settled on her waist, tracing small circles over his dress. Her legs wrapped themselves around his waist, her back arching upwards and pressing against his chest.

Ollie felt himself going crazy when he felt her whimpering against his lips, his mind on autopilot as he kissed her down the neck, sucking on her pulsing point which had her moaning and panting. Her nails scratched against his scalp, the slight pain making him groan against her skin. 

“Ollie-” She gasped, throwing her head back as she felt one of his hands tracing the curve of her boob. “Oh Dio…” (Oh God…)

Hearing his name, Ollie snapped out of his trance. Breathing heavily, he pulled away from her slightly to calm down for a second. “Fuck…”

Her taste lingered on his lips, the feeling of kissing her consuming his whole. He knew they needed to stop before things got out of hand, he figured she realised that exact thought as he looked into her eyes. 

Ollie rolled over, leaving the space on top of her and settling down next to her.

There was silence between them, the sound of the waves mixing with their heavy breathing. Suddenly, she started giggling beside him. Not knowing why, Ollie felt the urge to just join her. 

Both giggling, neither of them sure why, and yet the two of them understood each other.

She sat up, looking down at him sideways. “I think it’s time to go.”

Ollie wasn’t sure if she knew how crushing her words were. He wanted to freeze this moment, freeze this moment with her. If it was up to him, he’d never leave this night. 

But it wasn’t up to him, so he stood up and helped her do the same. Dusting the sand off of themselves, Ollie grabbed his suit jacket and shook it before placing it on her shoulders. She smiled at him, and he was sure her eyes sparkled as much as the sky above them. 

They disposed of the carton and bottle in a trash can in front of the beach. The alleys ahead of them were completely empty and Ollie was sure it must’ve been the early hours of the day by now. 

Neither of them shared many words on their way home. He was dreading the moment they separated, and feared making conversation would only speed up the time until then. So he settled for just holding her hand, and she settled for clinging onto his arm. 

But talking or not, eventually they reached the hotel Ollie was staying in. 

“I guess this is it.” She entangled herself from his grip. “Pilota di Formula uno.” (Formula One driver.)

“Doesn’t have to.” He whispered, his eyes searching the depths of hers. “England isn’t that far away, you know. And there are races here in Italy.”

She just smiled at him. “Don’t forget about me when you’re on top.”

“I don’t think I could ever forget about you.” He breathed out.

“Forever is a pretty long time.”

“Not long enough.”

She chuckled at his response, shaking her head. “You’ve gotten a lot bolder ever since the beginning of the night.”

“Learned from the best.” He winked at her, making her laugh out loud. He felt himself grow prideful, he made her laugh again. Oh how he loved her laugh.

“Yeah, your future girlfriend can write me a thank you postcard from England.” She teased, though her joke fell on deaf ears. He didn’t laugh. 

Awkwardly, she looked at her feet. Now she felt herself grow hot within her.

“I don’t even know your name.” Ollie realised out of the blue. 

She looked up at him, now grinning again and feeling relieved at the topic change. “You didn’t figure it out?”

“Figure out what?” He asked cluelessly. 

The girl outstretched her hand. “I’m Andromeda.”

Playing along, he took her hand, slightly bent down and softly kissed the back of it. “Pleasure to meet you, Andromeda.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” She chuckled at his antics, lightly bowing back at him. They both laughed at their situation.

“Drive safe, Oliver.” She smiled sadly at him, both of them knowing it was now finally the time to say goodbye. “And if you ever find yourself back here, maybe stop by Zio Enzo’s pizzeria, alright? Maybe you’ll find me there.”

“I’ll be looking for you.” He breathed out before taking one final step towards her.

Cupping her face again, he pressed a lingering kiss against her lips, cherishing this moment one more time. She melted into him instantly, her hand falling flat against his chest. 

Parting, they breathed each other’s air. His thumb traced her lips again, his rough skin tasting salty against her tongue. He looked deeply into her eyes, memorising their sparkle just like the star constellation she was named after.

“Addio mia stella.” (Goodbye, my star.)

[letsgoletsgetit08]

ateez unholy hours - kinks

some kinks I could see ateez members having.

warnings: MDNI!, mentions of freakteez idk, kinks

author's note: I'm quite literally running a fever right now and this is where my brain went. I have two psych degrees and this is what I'm using them for. If you're offended by any of this, I guess scroll on, it's not even serious.

word count: 700ish

hongjoong: somnophilia. hear me out, the man keeps weird hours. you're not guaranteed to be awake when he gets home. he's hesitant at first, but you've had a long discussion about it, and he starts to be brave and explore it, he's SO hooked. watching your face scrunch up in the dim light at his first touches, only for it to turn to gasps of pleasure as you wake up to him pushing inside you. it's 3am on a tuesday and neither of you could care less.

seonghwa: finacial domination. look, the guy has money, there's no denying that. but the idea of you telling him how he can spend it? it fucks with his brain in the best ways. oh, he wants that new lego set? he better be good for you all week and prove he deserves it. when he spends within his means of the allowance you give him and you reward him for it? his brain short circuits. he hopes he forgets what bank he uses, he never wants to think about being in control of his account again.

yunho: size kink this, breeding kink that. i hear you and i agree HOWEVER, that man is eating your ass. sorry. he just is. the man is captain of freakteez and he's the king of oral fixation. he's obsessed with finding different ways to get you off, and his sexual appetite knows no bounds. he's not mingi, he's not afraid of getting his hands dirty (metaphorically). you might be worried about it being unsanitary at first, but once he gets you in the shower and helps you wash - everywhere - you feel much better about it. and let me tell you, you won't regret it.

yeosang: ear fetish. i read a fic (shout out to op) about this, forgot what the specific -philia is called and I really don't want to fumble around on google to find it, but all i can say is yes. yeosang is an odd duck but also a rule follower, which leads me to believe he's very curious about the taboo, but not something so taboo that would be risky or anything. he just wants to lick your ears a little. let him. just look at him and tell me you wouldn't let him do it.

san: he wants to fuck your titties. hear me out, he has smallish hands already, which means that even if you're rocking some a cups, they would feel sizeable in his hands. hell, his tits might even be bigger than yours. doesn't matter. he's squeezing and torturing (pos) yours any chance he gets. something about this whiny pouty water sign man begging you let him do it because he's so curious just. ugh. yeah.

mingi: chastity. mingi is sooooo subby, especially for the right person and for that person (pick me!) he would be so eager to please and to prove that he could be good. he's constantly poking our eyes out with that thang on stage, as well as touching it subconciously any chance he gets. can you imagine, locking him up for all of tour? his whiny phone calls. teasing him. how desperate and needy he'd be for you when he finally got home and you could give him some relief.

wooyoung: body hair. i stand by him being a lowkey furry and you know what, whatever that man wants, tbh. i just think the first time you stopped shaving for the winter, it would unlock a whole different side of him. he wouldn't be able to stop touching your newly fuzzy legs and he'd bury his pretty nose in your softy, downy armpits. he'd finally show you the cat ears he's been wanting to wear while he fucks you. meow meow.

jongho: this mischievous little shit sweetheart wants to push the limits on what he can get away with as far as fucking you in public goes. fingers between your thighs at the restaurant, fucking you on a balcony at a hotel, on the tour bus, plane bathroom, green room on set for music video shoot, car sex, you name it, he's trying. the two of you are always reappearing after being mysteriously gone for too long to be innocent, clothes rumpled, cheeks flushed, matching shit eating grins poorly concealed on your faces.

[shijiujun]

WHY YOU CAN TRY WATCHING 垂涎 ABO Desire — A Chinese BL / Danmei Live-Action

This is for everyone wondering if you should step into this hehe. I'd say plenty of spoilers but honestly none that aren't already out there - the very first 10 minute trailer basically covered all the milestone scenes from start to end LOL.

1. General

Adapted from a danmei novel of the same name written by 弄简 Nong Jian. The novel is hosted free to read on JJWXC and features the two main leads Sheng Shaoyou and Hua Yong on the cover with their baby :D I've loosely scanned through the novel so this rec is based on the drama more than the novel.

And yes the full and official English title of this is ABO Desire, not Desire the Series — not that it really matters just bringing this up as a note when you do searches here and anywhere else, especially on Google or X/Twitter.

Total 16 episodes, with first 3 released on July 12, and 1 episode released every subsequent Saturday at 8PM (GMT+8) on iQiyi International, Youku International, GagaooLala and YouTube on Durian Culture (although on YouTube seems like they'll be releasing slower than the other platforms). There are subs accordingly, but reliability of subs depends. Youku's one is rather atrocious imo.

How did this air you ask? So the restrictions still exist, but Nong Jian the author is currently the director as well for the show and has apparently signed all cast members under her own company and I assume took production overseas as well among other arrangements. According to the first Weibo post, they're also forgoing profits from the initial release so that the Chinese platforms (albeit international versions) would be willing to air it.

There's some backstory with the author as well - I won't go into details but you can prolly find something on Twitter as a post there blew up. Yes I'm aware of the whole thing and I'm trying to— I don't know what to think of it LOL, and if you're avoiding this because of that, completely, 100% valid. BUT IN ANY CASE — Nong Jian is not only author, director, but also one of the OST singers; when they said DIY, she said yes and what's next :D Side tidbit is that she's also very close to Shui Qian Cheng, the danmei author of all the famed 188 gongs, who is also one of the only other authors out there who've had her own 'controversial' toxic romances filmed.

Official accounts on X/Twitter: ABO_Desire / Durian Culture

2. Synopsis/Summary

Hua Yong, a beautiful, delicate man who's the bastard son to a rich businessmen has returned to the country under an alias and has his eyes set on Sheng Shaoyou, the heir to Sheng Fang Corporations, an S-class alpha who's only ever dated pretty, delicate omegas who have those doe-like eyes. Hua Yong first kidnaps ALL of Sheng Shaoyou's exes to find out what the man's type is, then decides to masquerade as this exact type — a helpless, omega in distress who always needs someone strong to step in and save him.

He engineers various chance meetings with Sheng Shaoyou — some with the help of his friend Shen Wenlang, who's CEO to Sheng Shaoyou's rival company. Sheng Shaoyou is forced to witness Hua Yong fall into various trouble and has to help him out of it, and his interest is piqued. Typical of a domineering CEO who's also a strong alpha, he begins to court Hua Yong in a push-and-pull game in typical fashion — helping Hua Yong avoid his assailant, offering his house to Hua Yong when the man's 'chased' out of his small dingy apartment, taking him to high-profile meetings with rich people, some of which are Sheng Shaoyou's friends, watching Hua Yong get bullied then saving him after... And the likes. The list goes on. He truly falls for Hua Yong and is ready to move on to the next step but...

What he doesn't know is that Hua Yong is an Enigma, the alpha of alphas — and this little manipulative, weak-looking flower is the one on the hunt. With every move, he traps Sheng Shaoyou even further into the relationship while creating the impression that they'd be an AO couple. An incident exposes Hua Yong, and Sheng Shaoyou, betrayed, decides to have nothing to do with him, but Hua Yong is nothing but persistent. Trap him once, and he'll definitely be able to trap Sheng Shaoyou a second time, this time willingly, and if he can manage it, they'll have a child of their own, born by Sheng Shaoyou, of course.

On the other end, we have Shen Wenlang, who due to his past has an aversion to relationships and omegas, and has worked with Gao Tu, his secretary, for years. They used to go to the same school, and Gao Tu fell in love with him there, but Shen Wenlang has never noticed all this time. Omega Gao Tu has also been masquerading as a beta because he realises how much Shen Wenlang hates omegas, and he's prepared to just quietly stay at his side under this pretense, only for his dream to be shattered when they have a fevered roll in the sheets, but Shen Wenlang doesn't remember who he slept with. What's worse is Gao Tu realising after that he's pregnant, and Shen Wenlang, answering an out-of-place question, says that if he were in the same position and faced with an unknown kid he'd ask for it to be aborted. Cue Gao Tu giving up for the sake of his baby finally, and there begins Shen Wenlang's years-long journey in trying to (1) figure out that Gao Tu is an omega (2) that he likes Gao Tu (3) that he's going to love any kid as long as it's Gao Tu.

3. Characters Profiles

Hua Yong: An ethereally gorgeous Enigma who looks a lot like a standard Omega, and who uses his looks to his advantage. He's the secret big shareholder of X holdings, and the bastard son that Sheng Shaoyou wants to meet so he can get an upper hand over his rival company. He plays a good game - no matter if he's domineering or playing pitiful, his soft buttery voice truly is music to one's ears. He's master manipulator, incredibly cunning and is willing to risk everything just to get Sheng Shaoyou, including pretending he has an ailing sister who needs surgery and thus he needs to work odd jobs and be bullied to get money, that he's someone who is prone to tears, that he's very obedient and soft-spoken etc. After Sheng Shaoyou finds out that Hua Yong has been leading him on with a fake persona, Hua Yong persists — nothing will stand in the way of him and Sheng Shaoyou, and Sheng Shaoyou bearing his children for him.

Sheng Shaoyou: A standard, dashing and handsome alpha who's a domineering CEO, who's used to throwing money at problems to make them all go away. Cold, aloof and hard to approach, he falls for Hua Yong, who seems to have an 'affinity' with him (ahem Hua Yong's various engineered meetings), and who's also exactly the type he likes. He looks down on illegitimate children (before he realises Hua Yong is one too) because his half brother, who's an illegitimate child, creates a lot of trouble for him and is an enemy. His half brother is out to ruin him, even going as far as to get people to destroy Sheng Shaoyou's alpha gland (but Hua Yong arrives in time to save him). He might give off big dick energy but the moment Hua Yong draws near and touches him he becomes all putty and jelly LOL. Ends up willingly having Hua Yong's child, whose nickname is Little Peanut. AND YES HE IS THE BOTTOM EVEN THO HE DOESN'T LOOK IT.

Shen Wenlang: Has trauma from his alpha dad and omega dad, the latter of whom died a few years back, and is the source of him hating all omegas. Another standard domineering, toxic CEO alpha but with an even more toxic dad LOL, and he definitely has some feelings for Gao Tu but he doesn't realise it until way after Gao Tu has resigned and left him. It takes Hua Yong, who he kind of is a subordinate and friend to, reminding him that his one-night stand was with Gao Tu that he realises he doesn't want to lose Gao Tu, but by then it's too late, as the man manages to hide from him for more than 3 years after. It also takes him so damn long to realise after that Gao Tu is an omega too, and that they have a child together. In the end, Shen Wenlang's omega dad returns from the dead, and he realises that his omega dad and his alpha dad aren't actually on any bad, resentful terms at all. In fact, they're more than happy to be reunited after so many years (and the drama), and part of Shen Wenlang is healed from that. Afterwards, he has to grovel and etc. back into Gao Tu's good graces, and ends up moving in next to Gao Tu and their kid, trying to make the moves on Gao Tu bit by bit. Ends up also being Little Peanut's godfather.

Gao Tu: An omega who LITERALLY LOOKS DELICIOUS ENOUGH TO BE AN ALPHA, masquerades as a beta to stay by Shen Wenlang's side, but is hurt by Shen Wenlang at every turn. He suffers through his heats alone and often on suppressants. Has a shitty dad who only wants money from him and thought him to be useless as he's an omega, and later (in the novel) the dad tries to sell him and his unborn baby to his loan sharks to repay a debt (but he's saved). Leaves Shen Wenlang after asking him what he'd do hypothetically if someone he slept with got pregnant and Shen Wenlang says he'd ask the person to abort, and so to keep the kid, Gao Tu leaves and hides, afraid also that Sheng Wenlang would come after in vengeance after realising he's been lying to him for years about him being a beta, and for carrying his child. In the 3 years he's hiding away, he's courted by another alpha who helps him out alot and has feelings for him, but he rejects him firmly. Accepts Shen Wenlang much much later after Shen Wenlang finally uses his damn mouth to say that he has always liked him, and that he likes an omega if that omega is Gao Tu, and he likes the child he'll have if Gao Tu is the omega dad.

4. Reasons Why You Should Watch

(1) Everyone's face cards — like damn I haven't seen everyone in a bl drama look so perfectly fine in years. EVERYONE!!!!

(2) Secretary Gao's face card and him being just SO DAMN PITIFUL FOR REAL BUT ALSO SO STRONG IN HIS UNREQUITED LOVE BUT ALSO DID YOU HAVE TO RUN SO FAR

(3) Hua Yong being the green tea bitch and manipulation expert I LOVE IT

(4) Sheng Shaoyou and Shen Wenlang rivalry but argh boys you both end up as comrades anyway come on

(5) Hua Yong switching it up between his "oh look at me i'm about to faint i'm so pitiful" look and his "so you wanna play with fire, huh?" vibes

(6) Shen Wenlang having to help the madman that's Hua Yong he's like WHY DO I HAVE TO GO THROUGH ALL THIS TO HELP YOU DATE YOUR MAN AND THAT MAN IS MY RIVAL TOO FUCK YOU but he can't because Hua Yong has bigger balls than him so

(7) The representation of the ABO dynamics and world-building - I have to say they really did do a well-done job of fleshing out the world-building with backstories, and also things like toilets, hospitals etc., and everyone just talks about alpha beta omega like normal and you're like OH WOW ok we're really going for this huh. And we all read when alphas etc. use their pheromones to overpower someone else and I mean the special effects aren't over the top, which I appreciate. And the symbols on everyone's hands too.

(8) Oh and I forgot to mention that - it's completely uncensored. So while I doubt we're getting too explicit a scene, they're really already going there with like briefs out and all so HMM yup MPREG YEAH

[https-bobreynolds]

easy bet // confessions

pairing: robert ‘bob’ reynolds x thunderbolts*! reader

summary: when a lighthearted conversation accidentally leads to confessions.

warning: reader cursed at one point, several mentions of yelena x bob, google translated some russian (please forgive me), the kinda cute shit that makes you wanna throw your phone away

author’s note: THIS IS SOOOOO CUTE BUT ALSO THANK YOU ALL FOR 500+ LIKES <333 i have a masterlist pinned on my account if anyone’s interested

“…do you think the others would’ve made a bet on this? …on us? cause somehow i have a feeling they do.” you asked, laying on your boyfriend’s chest

he let out a soft snort at that, the corner of his mouth lifting up in a half-smile. “yeah… i think they definitely would’ve,” he admitted, his fingers dancing over your skin. “they’ve probably been placing bets since the first time we interacted…”

“ugh don’t even get me started on that- i thought i was being so obvious, i couldn’t sleep that night.” you said with an embarrassed face, remembering the details of that day- especially the embarrassing moments which is most of it.

he let out a soft chuckle at that, his face lighting up a little at your admission. he couldn’t help but find your embarrassment endearing- it was a side to you that he hadn’t seen before, and he was secretly loving it.

“you thought you were being that obvious, huh?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “well, i can tell you for sure that i was completely clueless… i had absolutely no idea how you felt.”

“i thought? no, i know for a fact that i was being obvious. like come on, didn’t you notice how i was like a deer in front of headlights when i first saw you? you even got me stuttering my own name- and that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” you mumbled.

“the others thought it was hilarious, especially alexei- gosh he’s such a dad” you chuckled at that, remembering alexei’s hysterical laugh every time he caught you staring at bob.

he couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up at that, his eyes crinkling up with amusement. he could just picture the scene in his head- you stuttering like a fool, the others watching and laughing at the show you were unknowingly putting up. “o-oh God,” he chuckled, “i can’t even imagine how entertaining that was for them… i can just picture alexei’s face now...”

“trust me, they wouldn’t stop talking about it for weeks. had to punch them into their senses every time they try to bring it up” you said, “…so yeah, i don’t know how you didn’t realize. if anything, i was being more obvious”

he was outright laughing at this point, his shoulders shaking with the force of his amusement. every word out of your mouth was like gold to him, the memories you were revealing so different from his own point of view. “i swear, i didn’t have a clue,” he managed to say, still chuckling. “i had no idea how often you were staring at me. how red you got every time our e-eyes locked-“

you smiled, hearing his laughter was like music to your ears. “a lot, that’s all i can tell- to the point that alexei’s ‘ты снова смотришь на него’ got imbedded to my head, it means ‘you’re staring at him again’ or his ‘красный как помидор’ which means ‘red like a tomato’”

“how was it in your perspective?” you asked, curious about his point of view. he shook his head with a small smile, still in mild disbelief. he couldn’t believe just how oblivious he had been to all of the obvious signs you were putting out. he could just imagine alexei pointing out your staring every time, and it made him feel like an even bigger idiot.

“my perspective...” he repeated, thinking back to those days. “i… i don’t know. i guess i was oblivious… completely blind to your feelings, apparently…”

“that makes the two of us” you said softly with a chuckle, “how can we both be obvious and oblivious?? we make such an easy bet for them”

he couldn’t help but laugh at that, his face lighting up. it really was so ridiculous how oblivious the both of you had been, putting on a show for the others without realizing it.

“i think we just made it too easy for them. it’s almost embarrassing how long it took me to see it- i must’ve been completely out of my mind..” he said, still shaking his head.

“well shit i must’ve been out of my mind too, it took me several weeks to actually realize, you know.? also took yelena and ava both to convince me” you confessed, “i guess it was more of a denial thing- i couldn’t believe the fact that you’d like someone like me”

his expression softened at that, tenderness filling him. how could you possibly think you weren’t good enough for him? for a moment, he almost scoffed out loud.

“are you kidding me?” he asked softly, shaking his head. “what do you mean, ‘someone like you’? you’re amazing, sweetheart. i mean… you’re everything i’d ever want.”

you smiled weakly at him, “i guess i was just… afraid. afraid to make the first move, afraid to ruin what we had, afraid to mess up…”, taking a second to think about the old days, “also, i think back then… i sort of.. thought you had a thing for yelena instead?”

his expression faltered at that, a confused look creeping onto his face. did you really think he had a thing for yelena? that was… a complete surprise to him. “wait… yelena..?” he asked, still trying to process your words. “why did you think that?”

“…i mean well, yeah. she was the first to befriend you, and you looked… comfortable with her. you were always either right next to her or behind her, so i assumed that you had a thing for her.” you replied quietly. you then raised your arms jokingly and said “in my defense, walker also thought the same until like a few weeks ago.”

he shook his head in disbelief, a little shocked that both you and walker thought he had a thing for yelena. he knew he was close to her- after all, she was the first to make him feel accepted- but the thought of having anything more than a platonic friendship just felt… wrong.

“me and yelena?” he almost snorted. “no. no way. it’s… it’s definitely never been like that. we’re just friends…”

“yeah i know that now- looking back i feel a bit stupid. guess i’m just too oblivious, huh?” you said. “i’m sorry for assuming that- yelena nearly spat her drink out when i first talked to her about it” you said again, with a small laugh

he chuckled at that, his lips twisting up into a half-smile. he could just imagine yelena’s reaction to your assumption, and it was almost too funny.

“yeah, i bet she almost did…” he shook his head again, and another thought occurred to him. ”so then… if you thought me and yelena were into each other, why didn’t you ever say anything to me?” he asked curiously.

now it was your turn to make a confused face, “hypothetically, if my assumption was correct- why would i ever confess my feelings for you? firstly, i could never say anything- knowing that my friend is into you and that the feelings are mutual, wouldn’t want to ruin it for her. and secondly, i didn’t want to say anything cause i was afraid of the rejection...”

he let out a soft sigh as you explained, his mind reeling from the new information. he had no idea that you had been holding back for those reasons, and it made him almost want to laugh. “hold on, hold on…” he said softly, his eyes shining with mirth. “you were pining for me… because you thought i had a thing for yelena… and so you just… never said a single thing to me?”

“uhm… yeah..?” you answered quietly, slightly embarrassed due to a. the topic of your conversation, and b. the fact that your past self acted like a high school kid in love

he took a second before bursting into laughter, unable to contain himself. he wasn’t meaning to laugh at you, per say- but more at the situation itself. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i- i don’t mean to laugh…” he apologized, his words interrupted by chuckles. “i just… oh my God. that’s insane to me, you know?”

although still highly embarrassed, you laughed at yourself when you heard his contagious laughter. “you’re so mean” you said jokingly, giving his arm a light slap

he winced a little at the slap, his reaction more dramatic than genuine pain. he rolled his eyes at your ‘critique’ and grinned at you. “it’s not my fault you were so… stupid” he teased. “why on earth would you think that i had a thing for yelena?”

your jaw dropped at his sassy demeanor, “you diva.”

“oh what? God forbits a woman to be afraid of rejection?” you asked sarcastically, “besides, why are you pinning the blame on me? if my mind serves me right, you too, were very much oblivious as i was.”

he laughed again at that, shaking his head like you were being insane. and in a way, he did think you were being a little insane. how the hell had both of you been so oblivious to the other’s feelings?

“okay okay, fair enough. that’s fair” he admitted, his smile still plastered on his face. “but you still should’ve said something, sweetheart. you could’ve avoided all of this if you had just… i don’t know, spoken up?”

“yeah, i probably should’ve said something back then.” you said with a bittersweet look,

“i‘m sorry…”

he shook his head, the smile falling away and the tender expression returning. he reached out, his fingers gently grasping your chin, tilting your face towards him so your gaze could meet his.

“hey, none of that” he said softly, his voice serious. “you have nothing to be sorry about, okay? i wasn’t exactly making it easy on you… i could’ve said something too.”

“mhm okay…” you nodded through his words, now even more grateful to have him. but now it was your turn to ask questions, “so why didn’t you?”

he let out a heavy sigh, a mix of emotions swirling through him. he knew this question was coming, and he honestly didn’t know how to answer it. he chose his words carefully, not wanting to sound dishonest or callous.

“i don’t know… there were a lot of reasons. but, I guess… i wasn’t sure you’d want me. how could you like someone like me, you know?”

“hmm well now that the cat’s out of the box, let me just say that i’ve always liked you- right from the moment that you appeared seemingly out of nowhere in that vault. you and your brown hair, blue hospital gown, caught my attention right away” you confessed, with a blush. “so i guess the real question is how could i not like someone like you?”

he felt his face turn bright red at your words, a small smile forming on his lips despite his best efforts. he had no idea that you had already liked him from back then, and the thought absolutely floored him.

“i… are- are you serious..?” he asked softly, his heart beating faster than it had been before. “you… you liked me from the very beginning?”

your eyes widened a bit, just realized that you may have accidentally spilled a tiniest bit too much. you then shrugged it off, trying to act nonchalant when you heartbeat got irregularly fast. “i’m being dead serious when i say that i liked you from the beginning- but then i got to know you more. saw you always trying to help the others out, be a kind-hearted person- i just- you got me in a chokehold since.”

he couldn’t keep the beaming smile off his face as he listened, his heart feeling like it was swelling with how you spoke of him. no one had ever talked about him like that before- it felt like he was in a dream, hearing those words come from your lips.

he took a deep breath, his eyes still wide as he tried to process what you were saying. “you… you feel that strongly about me?” he asked, his voice a bit hushed.

“yeah i do…” she whispered with a smile, “you got a problem with that?”

bob couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his lips, his heart fluttering as you spoke. there was a hint of playfulness in his voice when he spoke, an almost cocky edge to it.

“no… no problem at all” he chuckled softly.

“good.”

[godricgryffinsnore]

If you’re taking requests can I have a Harry Potter x reader with a pregnancy scare during hogwarts pls? And reader proper freaking out cause they’re so young and not ready so Harry is soft and calming and soothing and turns out not preggo but they both think one day

The Bump That Wasn’t ♡ : A Harry Potter Fan Fiction.

pairing : Harry Potter x fem!reader

summary : When an unexpected situation sends tension rippling through Hogwarts and later the Burrow, Harry and the reader navigate the chaos with love, patience, and a dash of humor. With their friends awkwardly supportive and family more involved than expected, the couple learns that even the scariest moments can lead to the sweetest promises.

warnings : Mild suggestive content, Pregnancy scare (may be triggering for some), Light panic/anxiety themes, Flustered characters and secondhand embarrassment, Over-involved family members (humorous), Lots of emotional fluff and teasing. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

della's note : Thank you so so so much for requesting, babe!!!

word count : 1.1k

main master list

banners : @ithemes and @cafekitsune

Setting: Seventh Year, Gryffindor Tower, post-battle era but Hogwarts is rebuilt.

You sat perched on the edge of the Gryffindor girls’ dormitory bathtub, clutching a potion bottle like it was a bomb.

“I’ve ruined my life,” you whispered.

“No, love, you haven’t.” Harry crouched beside you, his green eyes soft but mildly terrified.

“Oh yeah?” you hissed, “You say that now, but wait till McGonagall finds out I might be growing a baby in her castle!”

Harry held up both hands like you were a frightened unicorn. “Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. We don’t know anything yet. Maybe you’re just late—stress, hormones, you know, school, war trauma—remember? We died last year, literally.”

“I didn’t die, Harry.”

“Well, I did, so I win. Now please, sweetheart, drink the potion.”

You stared at the bottle. “What if it turns blue?”

He gently tucked your hair behind your ear. “Then we handle it. Together. Like we always do. I love you.”

“Don’t say sweet things to me right now, I might cry and vomit.”

“Valid.”

── .✦

Two Hours Earlier:

Ron dropped his toast as you sprinted out of the Great Hall, face pale as Nearly Headless Nick’s knees.

“I… I think she’s going to hurl,” he said, alarmed. “Did someone feed her a Fanged Frisbee?”

Harry went after you. Hermione leaned in. “She’s late, Ronald.”

Ron blinked. “Late for what? Oh. OH.”

“Don’t look like you’re about to pass out—you’re not the maybe-father!”

── .✦

Back in the dorm bathroom, you finally drank the damn potion with your eyes squeezed shut.

“…It’s pink,” you breathed, peeking one eye open.

“Pink! That’s good, right?” Harry said, practically hugging the toilet in relief.

“Yes, pink means not pregnant,” you sighed, falling against the wall, limbs limp with dramatic despair. “Thank Merlin.”

He sat beside you, hands laced with yours. “Well. That was… terrifying.”

“Do you think this is karma for all that snogging in the Room of Requirement?”

“No, that was good karma.”

“…Harry.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled. “Look, we weren’t ready. You were right to freak out. But I meant it—I’d have done it with you. All of it. Nappies. Sleepless nights. The whole Weasley-nursery package.”

You turned your head toward him. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead, then mumbled against your skin, “One day, yeah? I’d like that. With you.”

You sighed, melting into his side. “You’re too sweet. I should marry you before someone else tries.”

“You better,” he said smugly.

── .✦

Later That Night:

The four of you were curled up in the common room. Ron was feeding you sweets like you’d run a marathon. Hermione was watching you like she was ready to knit baby clothes just in case.

“I googled—I mean, researched—baby potion side effects,” Hermione said.

“Yeah?” you asked warily.

“Turns out if you are pregnant, you sometimes taste chocolate like cabbage. You gagged earlier when Ron handed you that cauldron cake.”

“She always gags when I hand her food,” Ron said, wounded.

“You once offered me a Liquorice Wand dipped in ketchup.”

“That was an experiment.”

Harry kissed your cheek and whispered, “Still negative.”

You smiled tiredly, hands curled in his jumper. “Yeah. But someday, yeah?”

“Someday,” he whispered.

Ron, from the couch: “Oi, not too soon though! I’d like to graduate without becoming Uncle Ron the Diaper Master.”

Hermione smacked him.

Harry chuckled, pulling you close.

You whispered, “I think we’d make cute kids.”

“Obviously. You’re the hottest witch in the castle.”

“You’re so full of it.”

“I’m full of love. And panic. But mostly love.”

── .✦

Setting: A week later at The Burrow. Post-Hogwarts. You and Harry are visiting the Weasleys.

The scent of cinnamon and warm bread filled The Burrow as you sat politely at the table, sipping tea and pretending not to see the suspiciously tiny knitted jumper folded neatly beside the biscuits.

You nudged Harry with your foot under the table. He looked at you, then followed your eye line—and promptly choked on his tea.

Ron looked up from buttering his scone. “You alright, mate?”

Harry, wheezing: “M’fine. Died once. This is worse.”

“I knew something was off,” Hermione muttered. “Molly’s been humming lullabies and bought baby booties in Diagon Alley yesterday.”

You leaned forward, voice as casual as you could fake it: “Mrs. Weasley, what’s the jumper for?”

“Oh, this?” Molly beamed, patting the tiny blue thing with golden snitch embroidery. “Well, I heard—and I do apologize if I’m being forward, dear—but I heard you two might be expecting?”

You made a noise that was somewhere between a cough and a mouse being hexed.

Harry’s eyes were wide, hands frozen around his mug like it was a lifeline. “Who told you that?!”

Ron raised his hand slowly like a guilty schoolboy. “I may have mentioned you two were acting weird last week.”

Hermione groaned into her hands. “Ronald, you don’t mention things like that unless there’s an actual baby.”

“I didn’t say there was one! I just said they looked like they were either about to faint or propose!”

You turned to Molly, cheeks burning. “Mrs. Weasley, I swear we’re not pregnant.”

Molly’s smile didn’t fade. “Not yet, dear.”

Harry made another dying noise.

Ginny appeared from the living room with Fred and George’s enchanted baby toy (which farted glitter) and whispered, “You lot know Mum already picked out a nursery theme, right?”

“Murder me,” you muttered, sliding slowly down your chair.

── .✦

Later That Night:

You and Harry lay in the cramped attic room, limbs tangled and faces still crimson from the Dinner of Doom.

“She knitted a jumper, Harry.”

“She said she’d keep it ‘just in case.’”

“Just in case?!” you sat up, exasperated. “Are we cows now? ‘Just in case this one births something in spring, best knit early!’”

Harry tried to stifle a laugh, but you glared. He immediately sobered. “No, no, you’re right. Terrifying. Very traumatic. Please don’t hex me, little one.”

You flopped back down beside him. “…Do you think she’s disappointed?”

He rolled onto his side to face you, tracing your knuckles with his fingers. “Maybe. But she’ll be overjoyed when we are.”

You gave him a side-eye. “You sound very sure of yourself.”

“I mean, I’ve seen your baby pictures. Can you imagine a little version of you with my glasses? Or your eyes and my messy hair?”

“…I’m not crying. Shut up.”

Harry leaned in, kissed your tear-damp cheek. “Someday.”

“Someday,” you whispered, curling into his chest. “But first, please stop letting Ron talk.”

“Deal.”

── .✦

Meanwhile downstairs:

Molly placed the jumper back in the drawer with a soft smile.

Arthur peeked in. “No baby?”

“Not yet,” she said.

Arthur kissed her temple. “Should we tell the twins to stop making that baby toy that sings 'It’s a Boy!' every time someone sneezes?”

Molly grinned. “Let them keep it. I have a feeling we’ll need it soon enough."

[annabelle--cane]

Do you have any aro and/or ace media recs that is not Tma (I already love that, n follow u for that).

Im starving over here, but all i can find is arguments about shippers mistreating representation, but no one is ever able to name that rep

so most of the aspec characters I know are from other audio dramas, and if we're angling specifically for aro characters (which I think is what you're more asking for?) then some of my favorites include:

the silt verses (fantasy folk horror) has an aroace lead in one sister "mallory glass" carpenter. her aromanticism is more explored on podcast, and it has some stuff to say about the pressure to conform to romantic expectations and the social repercussions that can result from not doing so. everyone has to listen to the silt verses, it is not optional.

the penumbra podcast (sci fi / fantasy adventure) has aro supporting characters in both of its main storylines, talfryn in the second citadel and jet and rita in juno steel. tal and jet are aroace, rita doesn't know exactly what she's got going on but I believe she's mspec aroallo. they don't get mediated on much but all of their identities are textually explicit, and the bonus episode where rita comes to terms with the fact that she might be aro and talks about it with jet is So sweet.

wooden overcoats (comedy) has an aroace lead in rudyard funn. he's a horrible terrible stuck-in-the-past stereotypical misanthropic goblin and he's the best character ever. he's never had fun and he'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. every so often the show will have a sex or romance focused episode and he'll float around on the sidelines shouting WHAT and WHAT IS THE MEANING OF ALL THIS and the like every so often. it's not textually explicit that he's aroace, but it's author confirmed and pretty evident in the show if you have, like, ears and can listen to the words that he says.

I've mostly just stuck to describing what might be appealing about specific characters rather than pitching the shows themselves because that information will be easier to find with a google search, and if you want some Big lists of aspec characters in podcasts then I would recommend this post or this post by @boombox-fuckboy

[pome-seed]

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 15

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Having grown too comfortable, you're thrown through a loop when you're uprooted again. Someone is following you. Bucky, refusing to take chances, packs up what little you both have and leads you into the unknown.

Warnings: Paranoia. Fear. Men being too nice (creepy).

Authors Note: Hi!! Warning, Romanian in this chapter is google translated level. I apologize for any and all inaccuracies. Translations are in italics!

ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

Comfortability. 

You grew up being told to never accept comfortability. It was the human crutch. It was the silent weakness of all people.

Your family always told you to explore your options, to never settle. Your professors and mentors always told you to reach and reach for the impossible. To never, ever get comfortable. Because one day, you blink and everything’s changed, but you’re stuck. 

Because getting comfortable means accepting what you have, and settling for nothing to ever get better.

You felt it before you saw him.

A balding man with a sunken face watched you from across the street as you walked towards the news stand.

At first you wondered if it was just an average man, watching you because he found you attractive. But then he glanced down at his phone, then to a man further up the street. 

You paused, yoursteps slowing. You were just paranoid.

You had to be.

Right?

You glanced at the man up ahead from the corner of your eye. He raised his phone, as if to snap a picture of you. 

You turned on your heel and started walking back to the inn at a pace you hoped looked natural. The paranoia began to eat at you as panic swelled in your chest. It was happening, wasn’t it?

They’d found you.

It was your worst nightmare come true. Every day since waking up in that small room, surrounded by fragile safety, you feared they would come. You knew one day they would.

You just didn’t think it would be so soon, after only a few weeks. 

You’d spent every waking moment checking the locks, looking over your shoulder, listening for footsteps outside. You’d laid awake at night, staring at the cracks in the ceiling as you listened to Bucky’s pen scribble against paper. 

You always made sure to check he was still there, propped against his makeshift bed of blankets beside the door, before going to bed. You knew he would be. You knew he’d be awake too. Waiting. Listening.

Afraid. But never showing it.

You tried to control your breathing, tried to steady your shaking hands as you pulled your room key from your pocket. You glanced back over your shoulders jerkily as you shouldered into the room.

You slammed the door shut behind you and leaned back, your breaths coming in rapid succession. The loud sound made Bucky stiffen from his place on the bed as he looked up at you.

“Someone was watching me- two men.” You blurted. “I don’t know if it was them- but they were watching me. I think they were taking pictures-”

Bucky was on his feet before you could finish your sentence. He yanked his bag up off the table and swiped his journal off the bed. He moved, shoving things in his bag. “Grab your things.”

“I-I don’t have anything-”

“Then let’s go.” He moved to the back of the room and shoved open the window. You gaped, stumbling blindly after him. He scanned the back pathway, then climbed out. He held his hands out to stabilise you as you followed him.

You didn't think you would ever get used to how quickly your security seemed to crumble around you.

The escape Bucky had planned for their imminent discovery was fruit. Fruit and vegetables. 

Living in the countryside of Romania, surrounded by acres and acres of farms, meant there was near constant transport to the city. Transport that you didn’t need ID for. Transport almost no one thought of looking for. 

“How in the hell are we going to convince them to let us on their truck?” You panted, hunched against a tree. Bucky stood a few feet ahead, scoping out a few men loading up a truck near the edge of the field. 

“We could sneak onto it.”

“Bucky- it’s refrigerated.” You huffed, moving to stand next to him. “How much money do we have?”

Bucky slung his backpack around his chest and dug through the front pocket. “747 Lei.” He muttered, counting it slowly.

“Shit…” You swallowed around your dry throat. You were still getting used to calculating the new currency, but you gathered that 747 Lei came out to around $172 USD. You desperately wished you’d packed a go bag with water or something. “Okay- we just have to beg, I guess.”

“And if they say no?” Bucky glanced at you.

“We’ll find another truck. Truckers are like- the main people that pick up hitchhikers.” 

“They’re also the main people that murder them, aren't they?” Bucky muttered dryly.

“Well- we don’t have any other option. I mean, do we?” You turned to him. “Tell me we have another option, and let’s do that. Otherwise I’ll have to flirt with truckers to get us a ride.” 

Bucky’s nose crinkled at your blunt words. He looked off to the side, trying to think of any other option you had that wasn’t stealing a car. And even so, there were no cars around except reefers. “We don’t have any other plans.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together in acceptance. “Okay. Put your bag on- and your nice face. The nicest one you can.”

He stared at you blankly.

“Just- try.” 

The men loading up the truck were cursing at one another in Romanian as they approached. They set down a large crate and one of them- the shorter one- gestured dramatically at his lower back. The taller- and younger- one rolled his eyes. 

Bucky followed from a few feet away- as instructed. You turned back to him and whispered the practiced words back to him. Bucky corrected some of your pronunciation, then told you you were good to go. You turned your back to him and tugged your shirt down a little to accentuate your cleavage. You couldn’t help the dirty feeling that trickled down your spine as you did so.

“Scuzați-mă?” You stepped around the truck and called out from the foot of the ramp. Excuse me?

The older man was actively slapping the younger over the head when he peaked around to see you. His irritated expression melted into something funny. The younger man turned around to see you. 

The elder said something in Romanian you didn’t understand. “Ah- Bună… mă întrebam dacă… eu și un prieten am putea… face o plimbare…” you paused, cringing at your own pronunciation. “...cu camionul tău?”

Hi, I was wondering if a friend and I could hitch a ride in your truck?

The men stared at you for a moment, then looked at eachother. The younger looked like he was trying not to crack a smile at your pronunciation. 

“Ai nevoie de o plimbare, scumpo?” The elder asked, walking closer to the edge of the truck.

You blinked, then glanced back to where Bucky stood around the corner of the truck. “Do you need a ride, sweetie?” Bucky muttered to you, translating. 

You looked back at them with a plastered smile. “Ah, da!”

“Ei bine,” the elder said, his voice dipping in tone, “aproape am terminat încărcarea. De ce nu te urci în față și ne aștepți.” You tried not to look stupid. “Cum e sunetul ăsta, dragă?”

You cringed as you looked back to Bucky helplessly. He bit back an irritated sigh. “Well, we're almost done loading up. Why don't you climb in the front and wait for us. How's that sound, darling?” He translated, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

You blinked and looked back at the older man. Before you could say anything else, the younger stepped forward, smiling. “Pentru ce se ascunde prietenul tău? Ieși.”

What is your friend hiding for? Come out.

You blinked back to Bucky for a translation, but instead he just slowly stepped around the corner into the line of sight. 

Your ‘nice face’ advice was entirely thrown out the window as he came to stand beside you, his jaw locked with glare directed at the men.

You could see the moment they met eyes, the moment the men took in Bucky. With his hulking form and looming height, snarled nose and curled fists. “Nu, stai-” The elder started. No, wait.

“Vă rog! Stai, Vă rog!” You folded your hands together in a pleading motion, stepping closer. Please! Wait, please!

“Te luăm noi, dragă, nu el..” The younger man pointed between the pair. We’ll take you, honey. Not him.

You glanced frantically between them and Bucky. Bucky stayed silent, staring down the boy who’d just spoken. “Bucky, what’s he saying? Bucky!” Your stomach twisted painfully with anxiety. You didn’t have much time. 

If there was someone following you, they could be getting closer.

“They’re saying they’ll only take you.” He told you, though for some reason you didn’t think his sour behavior was over that. Your gut sank.

“Vă rog, domnule, vă voi plăti.” You turned back to the other two and stepped closer to the ramp. “Vă rog.” You turned to Bucky and started yanking open his backpack. “Avem bani.”

Please sir, I’ll pay you. We have money.

The elder watched you dig out a fist full of cash. He bit his cracked lip and glanced between you and Bucky. “Vă rog,” you pleaded. You needed this to work. You needed to gain distance. You needed to get out. 

Please.

He glanced back at his partner. The younger man stepped up to him and whispered quietly over his shoulder. You glanced back at Bucky, but he kept his eyes on the men. After a long moment that made you start to fear you would have to find another truck, one of the men spoke.

“Amenda.” The elder grumbled. 

“A-Am…” you glanced at Bucky. 

“They’ll do it.” He told you.

You lit up with relief, your fists shaking at the men in gratitude. “Multumesc!” You grinned, walking up the ramp to hand the men half of the cash in yourfists. Thank you. “The rest after,” you gestured with your hands. The short man nodded, taking the money from you with a brush against your fingers.

“Puteți sta în față în timp ce terminăm încărcarea.” The younger said, stepping up. You blinked at him in confusion, but before you could turn back to Bucky, he said; “Wait in truck.” The boy smiled when you nodded in understanding. You turned and he set a hand on your lower back to guide you down the unsteady ramp.

You can stay up front while we finish loading.

You took one large step to get out of range of the man's hand. His touch fell away when you came to stand by Bucky- who hadn’t moved an inch since stepping out. You zipped up his backpack and slowly started pushing him towards the front of the truck. “Start walking before you scare them out of the deal, please.”

He huffed quietly and yanked open the truck door. The interior was much of what you’d expect. There were two seats and a little space behind them with a dingy old bed. In the foot of the passenger seat was a pile of soda cans and snack packaging. You climbed in first, taking a seat on the squeaky bed.

When Bucky joined you, you couldn’t help but nudge him in the side. “What was that? That was the complete opposite of nice.” 

He glanced at you, his brows furrowed. “They’re weird.” 

You blanched, quickly leaning forward to confirm they weren't nearby. “Bucky- they don’t have to be giving us a ride.” You whispered.

“We can find another ride.” 

“We don’t know if there were people following us or not. We can’t wait around.” You urged. “I don’t care if they said weird stuff about me, Bucky, really. It’s not that uncommon.” You sighed, watching his gaze soften. “As long as they get us somewhere we aren't being followed, I don’t care. A few creepy comments are a lot better than whatever those people would do to me.”

Bucky huffed, staring down at his hands. He knew it was true. He knew that whatever happened out in the free world, none of it could compare to what Hydra was capable of. But still, it disgusted him to listen to those men talk- and look at you like that.

He’d experienced enough disgusting behavior for several lifetimes.

“Please, Bucky.”

When your eyes met, he felt himself relax slightly. He nodded. “Okay.”

The whole four hour drive was insufferably awkward. Bucky told you he would be civil, but he wasn’t exactly peppy. 

When the man first joined you, he tried to get you to sit with him up front. Bucky slid an arm over your lap to stop you from getting up, then replied in Romanian to say you were just fine back there. You just leaned back into your seat and let Bucky take the lead. The driver, however, wasn’t so easy to sway.

He was chatty, and often looked back over his shoulder at the pair of you. Bucky stopped translating for you at some point, and just started responding in dry snippets. You didn’t worry about asking what was happening, because honestly you didn’t want to stress about Bucky.

You knew he was nervous. You knew he wasn’t great at playing positive. You knew that whatever this was, it was better to distract him instead of letting him worry about what could possibly be behind you both.

They took stops often for the driver to use the bathroom and buy snacks. You just stayed in the truck together, wanting to be seen as little as possible. 

When they finally stopped on the edge of Bucharest, near the factories, Bucky and you paid the man the rest of the money and got out. The elder man said something in a sing-songy voice as you closed the door. Bucky tensed, rolled his eyes, then gestured for you to step away from the truck. 

“What did-”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I definitely do, now.”

“No.”

“Buck-”

“No.”

You sighed in exasperation, accepting it.

You could tell Bucky was on edge. Being in public with no means of transportation now, it had him on high alert. 

You could see the way he tightened up, gaze flickering across the street and through the trees. He was different the closer you both got to higher populated areas. He was quiet. He kept his head down. He curled in on himself, as if trying to disappear. 

And he almost did. 

You didn’t comment on it. You knew it was a defence mechanism. It’s what he knew best. Make yourself invisible. You almost wished you were as good at it as he was. 

You knew how to feel invisible. But you didn’t know how to make yourself fall into the background, hidden in a crowd. You didn’t know how to hide the fact that you couldn’t read or speak Romanian. You didn’t know how to pretend like you were just anyone else.

Because in all reality, you were a fish out of water.

You weren’t supposed to be there. 

But sadly, you were coming to learn that almost nothing was in your control.

A/N: Hi! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It's not as emotionally painful as the others, haha! Also, I'd like to say that if any truckers are reading, I'm sorry for making you look so creepy...That's just my experience with the truckers that talk to me in parking lots....

@rafesgurl @pleasecallmeunhinged @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @frog-fans-unite @lonelyghosts-stuff @cherryandsugar @a-world-with-pure-imagination @unicornqueen05 @cupids-mf-arrow @sharkylalala @littlesuniee @meineguete @hawkinsavclub1983 @theconsultingdoctor10 @dollface-xoxo

[eringobragh420]

⊹ ⋆｡˚ i'm only sleeping

✘ pairing — damian priest ♥︎ f!reader ✘ kink list request — 13. somnophilia ✘ summary — damian shares one of his darker fantasies, and his girlfriend is 100% up to the challenge. ✘ words — 1.9k ✘ warnings — nsfw. somnophilia, oral (f receiving), Papí kink, unprotected p in v, cum 18+ ✘ notes — spanish translations are at the end of the story provided by google translate. ✘ taglist — if you'd like to be added, please click here! ✘ requested by — @wrestlinginme hope you enjoy!

✘ MASTERLIST ✘ DAMIAN PRIEST KINK LIST

He’s had his hand on his dick for the last thirty minutes, leisurely stroking, not even half-hard yet, but he’ll get there. Lying on his side, he watches her silhouette in the darkness, breathing softly, muscles randomly twitching as she falls further and further into the land of sleep. His head is propped on his fist, dark eyes roaming her form from her hair spread out on his pillow to her jawline, shoulder, bicep, and the irresistible dip of her waist that leads to the curve of her hip. The sheet, tucked under her arm, is concealing a smokeshow of a body he knows to be mostly nude, save for a tiny pair of panties, and he has no idea why it’s taken him so long to get here. A soft snore from the beautiful woman beside him, and he no longer cares.

Gently, he relocates the hand from his bulging boxer briefs to her hip where he applies gradual pressure as his palm passes along the skin just below her belly button. She rolls in his direction, settling on her back just as he hoped she would. He kisses her neck, mouths her ear, paying close attention to the hot spot behind it. She smells so sweet, so fresh. He buries his face in her hair for a long moment, simply inhaling and exhaling. Inhaling and exhaling. He pinches the sheet between thumb and forefinger and inches the soft cotton down below her breasts. His cock spasms while watching her nipples turn to tiny pebbles upon exposure to the cold air, and he can’t help but lean forward and take the one nearest to him into his mouth. He eyes her closely, on the lookout for any indication she could be waking up. Finding none, he becomes bolder and twists his tongue around the nipple, sucking ever so gingerly. He looks up again—still no response from her.

What is it about touching a sleeping woman? Is it the power? The helplessness of the small female beside him? Or does he maybe want to feel like she’s his property? He doesn’t know. It’s been a fantasy for years, ever since he saw some guy sleep assault a girl on a porn site, but he’s never been comfortable enough with a woman to tell her about it, let alone ask for her explicit consent to touch her while she slumbers. But this girl’s different. After she told him she thought maybe she wanted to rim him—and he picked his fucking jaw up off the floor while adjusting himself at the same time—he let her in on one of his darker fantasies: his desire to fuck a woman while she’s essentially unconscious. To his utter surprise, she’d jumped at the idea, and after unequivocally granting him blanket permission to do whatever he wanted with her while she slept—adding, “I’m not sure how much you’ll really accomplish before I wake up,” and Damian instantly, mentally, accepted the challenge—she took it a couple steps further. He could do it whenever he wanted—she didn’t want him asking for authorization beforehand, she didn’t even want him to mention it after they ended their discussion. Aside from that, she’d taken the opportunity to remind him—with eyes the shade of obsidian—that she sometimes takes muscle relaxers.

She’d been sore all evening from spending the day at development, hinting every few minutes or so how much she’d love a back or a foot rub, or maybe he could massage her thighs? He’d feigned soreness as well, particularly his hands from weightlifting, and she scoffed her way across the living room and into the bathroom, Damian’s eyes following until he could no longer see her. A moment later, he heard the sound of a pill bottle, and a smirk grew on his lips. He could handle her anger for now because he knew exactly where the night was headed, and the pretty little thing gulping down two Flexeril had no fucking idea.

He reaches for her other breast as he continues to suck, softly rolling the nipple along the pads of his fingers. Her eyebrow flutters, causing him to reluctantly back off, though not completely. Testing the waters once more, he cups a breast and squeezes, his hips humping against her leg accordingly. She remains inanimate, and his smile is wolfish as he moves down her body, taking the sheet with him—kissing over her ribcage, licking at her belly button. He rises to his hands and knees, eyes focused on her serene features. Every move he makes now is calculated, deliberate. He hooks his thumbs under her panties, discreetly pulling them down her legs. A tiny wad of lace in the palm of his hand, he presses his nose inside and sucks through his nostrils, filling his senses with her primal fragrance. He tosses the material over his shoulder before maneuvering himself between her legs, stretching his long body behind him, and the bare lips before him are glistening.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, leering at his meal while skillfully arranging her legs over his broad shoulders. Her skin is like satin against his cheek as he grazes the stubble along her inner thigh. The closer he gets to her pussy, the more he smells her arousal, and his eyes roll back as he inhales until his lungs threaten to burst, much like his cock is promising to bust through his underwear, maybe even the mattress. 

His tongue swipes across her bare, slippery lips, the flavor of her washing over his tongue, and his entire body jerks—in the space of a millisecond, he lunges forward to devour the best pussy he’s ever tasted, realizes his mistake, and successfully restrains himself, all of which results in a strong twitch. He stills, eyes rising haltingly, certain he would find her staring down at him. She’s blissfully comatose, breathing softly. Damian lets out a breath he doesn't realize he’s been holding.

He kisses her thighs, returning his attention to the masterpiece before him. His long tongue bypasses her lips, that familiar tang coating his taste buds once more. He focuses on the nub at the top of her clit, sliding down with the underside of his tongue, repeating the action several times before abandoning the licking for sucking. He pulls her ass closer to him, his mouth covering her entire pussy as he trades the sucking for licking again. He dips the tip of his tongue inside her, groaning as he laps at the source of her juices. Her hips roll against his mouth, and his eyes rise to watch her turn her head, moan so softly he’s not sure he heard it all, and there’s a brief smile on her lips before it disappears, she stills, and her breathing falls into an even pattern. Suddenly, a wave of her essence falls across his tongue, and he’s positive it’s cum, and he can’t do this anymore.

He unleashes himself from his underwear as he climbs into a kneeling position between this ethereal, vulnerable woman’s legs. He massages the spongy head of his cock along her drenched slit, head falling back, eyes closing. After a long moment, he returns his attention to her, guiding his dick carefully inside her. He expects her to wake at some point, now that he’s changed course from simply eating her out to having to fuck her out, but he has to know how far he can get before her beautiful eyes flutter open.

He can’t remember a time—after the first several times—he’s had to inch himself so slowly inside the tightest, wettest heat he’s ever felt. Christ, is he fucking dying? This is surely what hell must be like. Never being able to fully submerge himself inside a pussy ever again? Certainly sounds like damnation to him. Feeling a hand on his knee, his eyes open—when did they even close?—and her eyes are moving behind their lids. He pushes himself further inside her, and her hips lift, and he slides into place like a fucking puzzle piece.

“Fuck,” Damian whispers, cutting off a roar beckoning from deep in his chest. Her jaw drops and she sucks in a breath, eyelids trembling as they lazily open. Both her hands are on his knees now, squeezing them below her thighs as he holds them up with his own.

“Papí,” she breathes.

Damian’s cock twitches, his grin ravenous, and he hunches over to press his lips to her ear. Moments like this, he wishes he was shorter so they lined up a little better, but the thought is fleeting and unimportant. “Si, mi vida,” he rumbles. “I got all the way inside your cunt before you even woke up.”

“Christ,” she respires, nails scraping up his thighs, tickling his sides. She clutches his face with soft hands and pushes him away enough so their eyes can meet. Hers are wide now, brows knitted together. “I’m so fucking wet,” she all but sobs, “and you’re inside me, and I don’t know how any of it happened.”

Damian presses his lips to hers. She’s slow to react, and the lackadaisical way her lips and tongue massage along his is enough to make him come undone. “My mouth, baby girl,” he tells her. She blinks slowly up at him. “I ate that pussy.” She groans, arching her back, pressing her nipples to his chest, and there really isn’t much in the world he loves more than feeling those little pellets against his skin. “And you came all over my tongue.”

“Mmm,” she mumbles, ending with a soft giggle. “You love it when I come on your tongue.” Damian’s eyes narrow as he watches her—how awake is she really?

“Mhmmm,” he agrees, nodding. “So I had to fuck you, whether I woke you up or not.” He thrusts, both of them sharing a moan.

She nods. “You feel so good.” She stretches her arms under her pillow, luring her boyfriend’s eyes to her breasts once more. “God, I’m so full.”

“Tell me what you want,” Damian says.

She nods again. “Please fuck me, Papí.”

Damian sits up on his knees and grabs hold of her legs. Gripping the undersides of her thighs, he spreads them so he can watch his cock as he pulls it out. The goddamn thing glistens in the moonlight, and he shoves it back in her pussy only to pull it out again so he can admire his artwork. She bites her lip, eyes closed. Her tits are bouncing now, and he isn’t going to last, because she’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, and sometimes, like right now, he can’t believe she even chose him in the first place.

It only takes a few more pumps, and he pulls out, stroking himself until he shoots load after load of cum onto her stomach, a few shots landing on her left breast. A satisfied sigh escapes her lips as she reaches down to dip her fingers in a pool of his cum, and Damian watches with hooded eyes as he catches his breath, and she brings those soaking fingers to her mouth. She sucks them behind her lips, keen on swallowing everything she can.

Damian collapses on the bed next to her, a pleased smile splitting his lips. She rolls over, tucking herself into his side, leg wrapping around his. 

“Was it everything you hoped for?” she mumbles.

Damian’s arm comes around her, his hand settling on her hip. “It always is, corazón,” he says, kissing the top of her head. “It always is.”

✘ Papí - Daddy ✘ Si, mi vida - Yes, my life ✘ Corazón - Sweetheart