#what i mean when i say it ties into the other fic is that i'll start the other one after I finish the shagoat one

[auduux]

Shagoat fic that ties into a leshycat-ish centric narilamb fic anyone? 🙏

[wooskirbyplushie]

Make It To The Morning ~ Choi Seungcheol

✰ Choi Seungcheol x Reader

✰ Description: You meet up with an old friend on a night out with your girls, and he seems intent on making sure you end your night with a bang..

✰ Word Count: 3.4k

✰ Warnings: drinking, cussing, pet names, female!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it when you tap it !), driving under the influence (yea don't do this)

✰ Italics are used for inner thoughts, bold italic is to emphasize words

✰ a/n: Hey guyssss, back again. Currently still working on the next chapter of Our Little Secret, so in the mean time here's a little short I wrote a while back! Eventually I'll have an actually masterlist but for now my other fics/shorts are listed right under here if you wanna go check those out. As always, dividers used are by @cafekitsune so go check them out!

Our Little Secret ~ K.HJ | Not So Sober Nights ~ Kang Yeosang

It was a saturday night, and instead of your usual routine of laying around your room watching dramas and eating junk food, your friends dragged you to a club. You didn’t hate clubbing, it’s just the idea of too many people pressed up against each other in one place wasn’t very appealing to you.

But tonight you had a slight change of heart. You put on a skin tight dress that showed off all the right places, and threw on a pair of heels to match. A bit of light makeup and a few accessories tied the look together, and soon your friends were at your front door to pick you up for the night ahead. 

When you all arrived, the club was packed with the music so loud that you could feel the bass in your chest. There was a slight aroma of weed and flavored hooka coming from the vip sections, and flashing lights that should’ve come with an epilepsy warning. But of course it didn’t take long for your friends to grab you and drag you to the bar to get a drink before you could even think about turning around and leaving. 

One round of shots turned into three, and one drink turned into two and a half, as you were still working on the other half while you were on the dance floor. The liquor got you loosened up, but it didn’t get you any further than tipsy considering you could down 7 drinks and still walk in a straight line. But the drinks did have you bumping and grinding against your friends on the dance floor, drink still in hand. 

After a few minutes of dancing with your eyes closed, taking in every beat and melody, you felt a figure on your backside and eventually felt a hand rest on your waist. They were too tall to be one of your girl friends so who could-

“Now who managed to drag you out of the house on a saturday night and who let you out looking this good hm?”

Hearing the voice in your ear made you calm down a bit as you threw your head back and rested it against the person’s chest, smiled, and locked eyes with them. 

“Hi Cheollll” you sang out just loud enough for him to hear over the music. You and Seungcheol had a very… complicated relationship to say the least. You had hooked up and went on a few dates here and there but never really talked about what it was, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. He gave you whatever you were looking for in the moment and that’s all you really wanted. 

You both danced against each other for a while; rather, you danced against him while both of his hands followed the rhythm of you waist and he left the occasional kiss on your neck. You could feel he was turned on as he pressed against you.

Eventually, he turned you around to face him and took your now empty drink out of your hand. “Can we get another drink cheolie?” You asked with big brown eyes that no one could say no to. Well except Seungcheol apparently because he didn’t budge. 

“No ma’am, I think you’ve had enough tonight” Cheol started off before smirking and leaning towards your ear. “Plus I want you to be sober enough to remember what we do later okay?”

Now whether you were blushing because of the liquor or the image of what could possibly happen later, you weren’t sure. but you were sure that the smell of whiskey on Cheol’s breath mixed with the scent of his cologne was a dangerous combination for you. Your legs were getting weak and he needed to carry you to his bed immediately. 

“You wanna tell your friends I’m taking you home or should I baby?” 

You could text them later.

****

Before you knew it, Cheol was grabbing your wrist and leading you to the back door of the club. He always parked his car out back with the employees since he was cool with the owners, and did not want to take the chance of his car getting stolen or broken into. 

On your way out, you passed by the bar and a vip section where you happened to see your friends flirting with some guys, too distracted to see you sneaking out- or blatantly leaving - with the guy they hated so much. 

Once you reached the door, a brisk breeze hit your face, reminding you that it really wasn’t spring time yet. But because you chose to be cute and not smart, your jacket was still in your friend’s car, leaving you to shiver at the temperature. Cheol took notice of this and took his jacket off of his shoulders and placed it on your own. Was it light? Yes, but it was better than nothing. 

“Oh uh. Thanks.” You mumbled quietly, hoping you didn’t get caught eyeing the way his t-shirt complimented his muscles. Did he not understand you were insane??

“Of course princess.” Cheol replied, putting emphasis on his last word. You weren’t big on pet names, but something about the way he called you princess made you blush every time. 

Suddenly yall came to a stop in front of a black car, a mercedes to be exact. Weird, I thought he had a white ca- 

“Like the new wheels? Got her last week” Cheol said smugly when he noticed you looking at the unfamiliar car. You simply nodded and said it matched his style: expensive and arrogant. 

He chuckled and pulled you closer to him by your waist, that cologne intoxicating the way it filled your nostrils. The last thing you were expecting was for this man to pick you up and sit you on the trunk of the car. 

“Seungcheol! Someone could see us let’s just go to your place.” You protested although you weren’t completely against the idea of fucking him in or on the car. What? You had questionable morals. 

“We will in due time baby,” Cheol started before leaving a kiss on your temple. “Think of this as an appetizer before the main course, okay?” You couldn’t get out another protest before his lips were on yours. Slightly chapped per usual, but god they felt like heaven. He hummed into the kiss while your tongues clashed with each other, the taste of peach liquor on your breath turning him on even more. His hands starting to travel up the sides of your thighs as you kept going.

He had your body so hot that you almost forgot about it being 40 degrees outside until the wind started blowing again. You shivered slightly, breaking from the kiss and lowering your head in embarrassment. “Can we go to your place now Cheolie..?” He complied and helped you off the car after another quick kiss, followed by him opening the passenger door for you. 

****

Once you got to Cheol’s house, he parked and walked to your side of the car where he scolded you for opening your door yourself. You insisted it wasn’t a big deal, to which he picked you up bridal style and carried you into his house. Feeling your cheeks get hot again, you hid your face in the crook of his neck. 

You finally made it to the bedroom after what seemed like an eternity, Cheol sitting you down on his King sized bed before turning to close and lock his door. He walked back over, looking you up and down before getting on his knees in front of you. 

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are? Or how good you look wearing my clothes?” He inquired while helping you get your heels off. You had completely forgot about the jacket, but at this point, you just wanted him to stop being a tease and take it off of you. “Maybe once or five times…” you replied back, eyes watching his every move. 

“Only five? I gotta do better then huh gorgeous?” He said before leaving kisses up your legs, starting at your ankles. You threw your head back slightly and Cheol watched your reactions through his eyelashes. “Seungcheol can you stop being a tease for christ sake” you whined. 

He climbed on top of you, sliding his jacket off your shoulders. 

“Want me to fuck you that bad?”

Well. Yes! “Duh.”

“Then take your dress off”

“Only if you take your pants off”

Cheol smirked and stood back up, undoing his belt. “Yes ma’am”

One thing led to another, and your clothes were in a pile on the floor, leaving both of you in nothing but your underwear. You couldn’t help but stare at Seungcheol’s body, I mean you had seen it multiple times but it always surprised you how defined and prominent his muscles were. And no matter how many times you ended up in this scenario with him, you always got shy and tried to cover up. 

He climbed onto the bed next to you, and pulled you into his lap with a swift action. He had you in a position where you were straddling him, your body getting accustomed a bit too quickly. “Why are you acting like I haven’t seen your body a million times over princess?” Cheol placed a kiss on your shoulder, his hand caressing the small of your back. “That’s exactly why… You probably know my body better than I do at this point.” You replied in a voice that was hardly above a whisper. 

His fingers toyed with the strap of your bra before placing them under your chin, lifting your head just enough for you to make eye contact with him. God his eyes were dangerous. “How about we prove that theory then, huh princess?” Cheol said before crashing his lips into yours. Just like before, you could still taste the liquor on his breath, his tongue going against your bottom lip to ask for just a bit more from you. You obliged and parted your lips just enough for Cheol to slip his tongue in. 

You weren’t sure what to do with your hands, as one was tugging at the bottom part of his hair, the other holding on to his shoulder to keep your balance while you would grind against him, arousal growing with every movement. Coming up for air, Cheol broke away from the kiss to leave kisses and small bite marks on your chest. 

“Cheol you.. you know how I am about hickeys…” you managed out, head in the clouds, dizzy with pleasure. But he wasn’t letting up. “I know baby. That’s why they’re in places only we’ll know about.” He replied while undoing the last hook of your bra, sliding the garment off your body. You hadn’t even realized he was taking it off until you felt the material loosen around you. 

Not even a second after your bra was taken off, Cheol wrapped his mouth around one of your breasts, one of his hands massaging the other. You threw your head back in pleasure and moaned his name, the grip you had on his hair getting a bit tighter. You both continued to move your hips against each other, turning you on even further and wishing that the fabric separating the two of you would disappear. 

Cheol switched from one breast to the other, giving both equal amounts of attention. Eventually he worked his way back up towards your collarbone and neck, leaving kisses all over and nibbling on your ear. “C-cheolie..” you whined in response to his actions. He was driving you crazy and you wanted more than what he was offering. “I know princess, I know..” He trailed off as his hands went between the two of you, fingers meeting your most sensitive spot, rubbing aggravating slow circles on your clit through the fabric of your panties. 

Just as you were about to beg for more, cheol moved your panties to the side and slipped two fingers inside of you, stretching you out for what was to come. He had you falling apart, a whimpering mess on top of him as he fingered you and kissed more over your chest and neck areas. You were already starting to feel your first orgasm of the night approaching, that familiar knot building up in your stomach. “I- I can’t anymore cheol I’m so- so close” You breathed out, reaching down to rub your clit to help you get there faster. “If you’re close then cum for me baby” Cheol said in your ear, speeding up his hand movements. 

His voice was all it took to send you over the edge. You tightened around his fingers before your orgasm washed over you, moaning cheol’s name way louder than you had intended and collapsing onto his chest when it was all said and done. “You did so good for me baby” He said while kissing you on your head. He rubbed your back to help you come back to reality, asking if you wanted to stop or keep going once you were responsive. 

“We can keep going. You haven’t even gotten anything yet-” You started before Cheol cut you off with another kiss. “You know I only care about you baby, I can take care of myself later.” You shrugged in return, arms wrapped around Cheol’s neck. Leaning into his ear, you spoke in a low voice, “But I wanna make you feel good too.” Followed by you kissing on his neck. 

Cheol let out a guttural moan, his head falling against the headboard behind him. His hands stayed on your hips for a short period of time, eventually sliding down and gripping your ass before abruptly straightening up to change your positions. Before you could blink properly, Cheol had you on your stomach, causing you to yelp out of shock. Lifting your ass up so you were on all fours. 

You could feel him adjusting behind you, pulling his boxers just below his dick, and pulling your panties to the side; too lazy to take them off. “Condom?” He asked with a dumbass confused look on his face. “When have we ever used one seungcheol.” You replied, annoyance heavy in your tone. He shrugged and pointed out he was just making sure before teasingly placing his tip right at your entrance. And he did it over and over again until you finally snapped. 

“Christ Seungcheol can you just-” You started but were cut off by him finally sliding in. Both of you let out synchronized moans, your grip on the sheets tightening, while cheol gripped your hair to make you look up at the mirror that was conveniently placed in front of the bed. “Look at you taking me so well princess” His pace picking up with every other word. 

Cheol wasn’t exactly big, but he knew exactly what to do to make you lose your mind. Between the angles, hair tugging, and shit talking (and some praising here and there), he had you damn near crying and screaming out broken mantras of cuss words and his name, the occasional whiny “please” getting thrown in there as well. Eventually you felt yourself getting close to the edge, the pleading getting even worse than before.

“God Cheolie please i’m so close” You whined, not sure how much longer you could last. Snaking his hand underneath you, Cheol went back to rubbing your clit, keeping his same pace. “Cmon baby, what’s stopping you?” He taunted in your ear before he twitched inside you. he was close but refused to cum before you did. “I’m sorry baby but I wanna see your face when you cum..” and just like that, Cheol flipped you so you were on your back. Rolling your eyes, you responded “I thought that’s what the mirror was for.” 

“Something like that but it’s better to see it up close” He smirked as his hips started back up. it was like he hadn’t skipped a beat, your orgasm still so close that you could almost taste it. Cheol fucked into you with one of your legs over his shoulder, occasionally dipping down to kiss on your neck. “Holy fuuck Seungcheol” You moaned out. You had about 30 seconds left in you before you started seeing stars, nails digging into any part of his skin that you could find. Cheol groaned at the sensation getting closer to the edge as time went on. “Want me to-” He couldn’t even finish his question before you cut him off with an immediate yes. 

“Right there oh my g-” Your sentence was cut short by your second orgasm of the night hitting you like a truck. The heat flowed from your spine to the tips of your fingers, back arching off of the bed from the pleasure. Cheol fucked you through your high, his orgasm following shortly after, almost making him go limp from how aggressive it was. He eventually pulled out and laid next to you, kissing your temple and making sure you were okay as he pulled you into his arms. “You feeling ok princess?”

“I feel sweaty, weak and partially sore” To be fair it had been a month since your last hook up. Cheol stood up, pulled up his boxers and picked you up to carry you to the bathroom without another word. 

“All im hearing is round two in the shower!”

“I cannot stand you.”

When you woke up, the sun was coming through slits between the black curtains in the master bedroom, a slight breeze coming from the window furthest from the bed. Your body was sore and you could only imagine how many hickeys were left on your body; more specifically how many did Cheol forget were in noticeable places. They would serve as simple reminders of last night, how aggressive he could be at times, following up with a soft side right after. So it was no surprise when you were given a massage and coddled to sleep by Cheol after such a rough time. The thought of it made you blush, shaking your head to brush off the images replaying.

Adjusting a bit in the bed, you reached over to the nightstand to grab your phone; at least you tried to before a certain someone snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Tryna fuck and roll on me hm?” He asked while placing a light peck on your shoulder. 

Giggling at Cheol’s clinginess, you turned to face him while he kept his grip on your waist. “To be fair, I didn’t exactly plan on staying the night sir. And don’t worry, I was just checking my phone.” It was almost guaranteed that your friends had texted and called trying to figure out where you were and if you were ok. I mean it wasn’t abnormal for you to leave before they did, but you usually left some type of message for them. Somebody must’ve distracted you last night…

“You weren’t gonna stay?? But I was going to make breakfast for us!” Cheol responded with a fake pout. If you didn’t vividly remember last night, his face would’ve made you think he was a little angel. You knew better though. “Woah woah. Decent sex and free food? Why are you still laying here shoo go cook bro.”

“Just decent!?” He replied, holding an offended hand to his chest. You couldn’t help but laugh at how dramatic he was, especially since you said it just to get under his skin. But before you knew it, Cheol was on top of you. The sight looking all too familiar, you stopped laughing and hit his shoulder. “Go cook, I’m hungry” 

“Tell me it was better than decent and I’ll make you a breakfast for a queen”

Oh it was. But you weren’t telling him that. 

“Mmmm it was aight” you replied, holding back your laugh. It was killing you, but you had to play with him justttt a little bit.

Cheol slightly shrugged and adjusted himself above you. “Then I’ll remind you how much noise you were making last night. Breakfast will come after you do”

Your eyes widened in shock. Oh this. This was not in the plans-

[senascoop]

TIED UP IN YOU , N.RK !

﹙ 🍫 ﹚ ぃ ──── THIS MIGHT SOUND CRAZY BUT TRUST ME IT'S TRUE!

PAIRING : phone guy ! riki × student ! afab reader

SYNOPSIS : Niki was a good guy, no doubt about it. The only problem? He was your phone. How, exactly, did your phone transform into this strikingly handsome guy? It was baffling, frustrating, and, honestly, a bit overwhelming. Here you were, trying to navigate a world where your device had somehow become a charming, infuriatingly attractive human being. And to make matters worse, he was as stubborn and endearing as any person you'd ever met.

GENRE : fluff + crack

WARNING(S) : I don't really think there's any aside from mentions of period and blood in the start, kissing (can be slightly suggestive) and a possible sad ending but if there's more—please lmk.

WORD COUNT : 15.9K

MORE LIKE THIS? ┊ MASTERLIST

NOTE FROM SENA , it's been exactly two months since i’ve actually written a fic from the dreamscape series lol (but I'll make sure to write the other ones too!!) even a little feedback really fuels me—it doesn't necessarily have to be appreciation, it's okay for it to be constructive criticism. Also, happy birthday to our dearest maknae riki 🫶🏻💕

YOU HATE THIS.

You hate everything about it: the constant ache in your lower abdomen, the bloating that makes you uncomfortable, and worst of all, the emotional chaos you're forced to go through while navigating the constant tension your family adds to your life. It's almost too much. Almost.

Stepping into the bathroom, you peel off your bloodied underwear with a groan. This feels just another battle in a war you are losing. The step forward into the shower brings down upon your body warm water flowing. It streams down along your back and legs carrying away the last drops of blood. For that one instant, it soothes all the pain, but not for long.

You press your palms flat against the cool tiles of the wall, leaning forward as the steam rises around you. “Why can't one thing be easy?” you mutter, your voice barely audible over the rush of water.

The thought of your so-called friends creeps into your mind. Friends? you scoff internally. They aren't friends. They're just people who keep you around to have someone to poke fun at, and you? Too naïve, too hopeful, let them.

Your school's anti-bullying policy flashes across your mind next. What a joke. The only time they ever step in is when someone like you stands up to the bullies. It's infuriating.

With a disgusted huff, you twist the shower handle, dialing up the heat until the water is near-scalding. For an instant, the burn feels even slightly more pleasing than the general dull ache throughout your body. But that comfort loses itself too soon as well as the water becomes unbearable (too hot) to touch. “Great,” you say sarcastically and twist the knob off entirely.

The bathroom is silent except for the sporadic drip of the faucet. You take a towel and dab at yourself slowly, deliberatively drying yourself. You wince as your clothes touch your sore skin but continue through the motions nonetheless.

You then walk into the counter, reach in for the pack of pads, and pull one out. You stare at it for a moment before letting out a deep breath. The thought of using tampons crosses your mind. You shudder. Some things are just too much of a hassle to consider: the fumbling with the applicator before inserting something. You shake your head, muttering “Not for me,” place the pad carefully in a fresh pair of underwear you slip on, and feel familiar, slightly cushioned comfort.

The next comes the outfit. Half-day at school, of course means no uniforms—but, in keeping with the school's dress code, naturally. You rifle through your closet before settling on the usual choice: oversized, baggy. So comfortable. So practical. How can some of those girls make such a racket and carry themselves about in what would have otherwise been flashy, tight clothes? How do they manage to study?

As you pull the hoodie over your head, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. For a moment, you pause, taking in the faint puffiness under your eyes and the dull expression on your face. You look tired. No, you look exhausted. You let out a sigh as you run a hand through your damp hair, tying it into a loose ponytail.

As you step out of the bathroom, still adjusting your hoodie, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. There’s a man—a complete stranger—sitting casually on your bed like he owns the place. Your first instinct is to scream, but the sheer absurdity of his presence silences you momentarily. He looks…naive, almost harmless, as if he hasn't just committed a blatant act of breaking and entering.

But harmless or not, he’s still a stranger in your room. Your instincts kick in, and you grab the closest thing within reach—a dusty second-grade participation trophy your sister once won. You don’t care about the trophy. It’s been collecting cobwebs for years, and if it breaks while bashing in this intruder's head, so be it.

With the makeshift weapon clutched tightly in your hand, you take a step toward him. He notices, his head tilting slightly, and for a brief second, confusion flashes across his face. He raises his hands, palms out in surrender, and says in the calmest tone imaginable, “You’re not actually going to hit me, are you?”

His question catches you off guard. What? Of course you’re going to hit him! How dare he act so calm, as if he’s the victim here? You narrow your eyes, gripping the trophy even tighter.

“Well, if you’re going to intrude in my room and act like you’re some innocent little boy who doesn’t know what he’s doing, you’ve got another thing coming!” you snap, taking a step closer. “I’ll call the police!”

Your voice rises with conviction as you mentally prepare to shout for your mom, who’s probably awake by now. Surely she’d hear the commotion and come running. But the man, completely unfazed, leans back slightly on the bed. He rolls his eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“Well, then. Go ahead. Call the police,” he says, his tone dripping with nonchalance, as if this is the most mundane situation in the world.

The sheer audacity leaves you momentarily stunned. Who does this guy think he is? Acting like this is his room, like he’s inviting you to call for help. Your grip loosens slightly on the trophy as your mind races. Why isn’t he scared? Why isn’t he running? Has he done this before?

You glance around, searching for your phone. Where is it? You could’ve sworn you left it on your desk, but it’s nowhere in sight. Panic creeps into your chest. He still hasn’t moved. His eyes flick around the room, scanning the details, but he doesn’t seem in a rush to do anything.

The way he observes everything so calmly only fuels your fear. Your gut tells you this guy is dangerous, no matter how unbothered he looks. Your heart pounds as your brain screams: Stranger danger. Stranger danger.

“I’m serious,” you blurt out, your voice quivering slightly despite your best efforts to stay strong. “I’ll scream. I’ll—”

“Then scream,” he interrupts, his voice sharp but not loud. His gaze finally locks with yours, and for the first time, you notice something unsettling in his expression. A flicker of something you can’t quite place. Not anger, not malice—just…calculation.

Your breath catches. He’s not leaving. He’s not running. This isn’t over.

With a frustrated sigh, you blurt out, “Where’s my darn phone?!”

Your eyes scan the room, darting over every surface in search of it. The guy—still sitting lazily on your bed—doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he tilts his head slightly and says, in the most deadpan tone imaginable, “Why are you searching when I’m right here?”

You freeze mid-step, slowly turning to look at him. What? Did he just…? Your first thought is this guy is absolutely insane. No rational person would say that, and suddenly, you’re wondering if he’s got some kind of mental illness. And, because your irritation is outweighing your common sense, you let the words slip right out of your mouth:

“I’m searching for my phone, you idiot. Just wait—just you see—I’m gonna call the police on you!”

It’s a dumb move, announcing your plan to the potential intruder. But at this point, logic has taken a backseat to sheer annoyance.

The guy blinks at you, seemingly unfazed, and mutters in that same emotionless tone, “I am your phone.”

You stare at him, disbelief written all over your face. “If you’re my phone,” you snap, crossing your arms, “then call the cops yourself.”

You return to searching, hands rummaging through the clutter on your desk. But then you hear something that makes you stop cold: a dialing sound. Not from a phone, but from him. Slowly, you turn back to see a faint, glowing screen appear above his head. The digital display shows numbers being dialed.

Your heart races as the call connects. A voice crackles through the air—an officer, calm and professional, asking, “Hello? Is everything alright there?”

Your jaw drops. What do you even say? Panic sets in. “Y-yeah,” you stammer, your voice shaking. “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

The officer pauses, clearly unconvinced, but then ends the call with a polite goodbye.

You stare at the man—your phone?—in complete shock. He looks at you as if nothing unusual has happened, his expression blank. Slowly, you lower yourself onto the edge of the bed, pressing a trembling hand to your forehead.

“What the hell…” you mutter, more to yourself than to him. This can’t be real. Phones don’t turn into people. And yet, the evidence is sitting right in front of you—a very real, very handsome guy, casually perched on your bed like this is the most normal thing in the world.

He shifts slightly, his head tilting again. “You seem stressed,” he says, his tone flat but oddly observant.

“Stressed?” you snap, gesturing wildly. “Of course I’m stressed! My phone—my phone—just turned into you! How is this even possible?!”

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “You dropped me too many times. I think I just… evolved.”

“EVOLVED?!” You bury your face in your hands, groaning. None of this makes sense. You don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or check yourself into a psych ward.

“How…” you start, your voice muffled behind your hands, “how is this even happening?”

“That’s what I’m here to figure out,” he replies simply, leaning back on his elbows.

You peek at him through your fingers, still in disbelief. “This can’t be real. There’s no way. You—no, this—” You cut yourself off, letting out a long, exhausted sigh.

Your phone—no, the guy—tilts his head again, studying you. “You’ll get used to it,” he says, almost like a promise.

But you’re not so sure about that.

“So… you’re my phone?” you ask, your voice tinged with disbelief, eyes narrowing as you study the boy in front of you.

“No doubt,” he answers almost immediately, like he’s personally offended you’d even question it.

You squint at him, crossing your arms. “Then prove it. What’s my name, my last semester grade, and… my favorite boy band?”

You’re sure this will trip him up. After all, your phone holds all your secrets. If he’s lying, he wouldn’t know the answers. You’ve texted casually about your life, sure, but your grade? That’s buried deep in your notes app. And your favorite K-pop group? Well, okay, maybe you’ve obsessively streamed their content, but still.

“Y/N, C-minus, and TXT,” he says without hesitation, his gaze steady as he stares you down.

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. “What the hell?” you mutter, stunned. No one knew your last semester grade—not even your parents. You hid it like a crime. And how could he guess your favorite group so easily?

You scowl, determined to poke a hole in his claim. “That’s not enough. Maybe you stalked me or paid too much attention to my life,” you argue, crossing your arms smugly, waiting for him to stumble.

But instead, he smirks—an infuriatingly cocky smirk. “Those videos you watch while pretending to be asleep under your blanket—”

“Shut up!” you cut him off, your cheeks instantly flaming. Oh, my god. That was not something anyone was supposed to know. “Fine, I believe you!” you snap, desperate to stop him before he digs up more embarrassing truths.

But he’s not done. He leans closer, his voice dropping as he adds, “And how about that sob story you wrote in your digital journal? The one you cringed at so hard you almost deleted the whole app?”

Your entire face burns. “I said I believe you! Now shut the fck up!” The words come out louder than you intended, practically echoing in the room.

There’s a knock on the door, followed by it swinging open.

“You seriously aren’t ready for school yet?” your mom complains, arms crossed as she glares at you.

Your heart stops. You whip around, fully expecting her to freak out at the sight of a random guy in your room. But when you look back at your bed…

He’s gone.

In his place lies your phone—ordinary, rectangular, and definitely not a human boy.

You stare at it, dumbfounded, while your mom narrows her eyes at you. “Well?” she snaps.

“I—I’m getting ready,” you stammer, trying to keep your voice steady. You glance back at the phone, half-expecting it to sprout arms and legs again. But it doesn’t move.

Your mom sighs, muttering something about you being late, and slams the door shut.

You flop down onto the bed, your head spinning. Did you just imagine all of that? Was it some kind of stress-induced hallucination? But… no, it felt real. Too real.

Your hand hovers over your phone. “What the hell just happened?” you whisper, the memory of his smug face flashing in your mind. You’re not sure if you’re losing it or if your phone just pulled the biggest prank of your life. Either way, it’s going to be a long day.

You couldn't focus at all during school. The weight of your phone in your pocket felt heavier than usual, as though it was a ticking time bomb waiting to spring legs and arms again. The thought of keeping it in your bag seemed like a bad idea—what if it turned into him again and someone saw? The last thing you needed was to explain that.

And yet, your mind kept wandering back to him. The guy. The phone. Whatever he was. He was… kind of handsome.

You mentally slapped yourself. Snap out of it, Y/N. It’s your phone, not a K-drama lead! Still, the thought lingered, making your stomach churn. What if you’d imagined everything? What if it was all in your head?

You tried to shake the unsettling thought, but it stuck. Maybe you were losing it. After all, you weren’t exactly what anyone would call normal. You’d always kept to yourself, avoided making friends, and generally preferred your own company. Isn’t that how they describe psychopaths in true crime documentaries?

You shivered at the thought. Maybe Eunmi would understand. She was quiet, kept her distance from people too. You glanced across the classroom and spotted her sitting by herself. Perfect. You grabbed your stuff and slid into the seat next to her.

Eunmi turned to you, her brows furrowing in confusion. Without a word, she grabbed her things and moved to another seat across the room.

“Wtf?” you muttered, glaring after her. “Some people are so ungrateful. She could’ve just said she didn’t want to talk.”

You slumped back in your seat, fuming and plotting petty revenge in your head. But before you could dwell on it too much, the classroom door creaked open. Miss Shin walked in, her expression as flat and lifeless as her lectures.

History. Great.

You suppressed a groan as she began her lesson, droning on about wars and treaties in the most monotone voice imaginable. You weren’t saying history couldn’t be interesting—it totally could. But with Miss Shin? She made even the most exciting historical events feel like watching paint dry.

Why was she even hired as a teacher? She should’ve been a librarian or something.

You stifled a yawn, covering your mouth with your hand. The effort was pointless, though. Half the class was already yawning or staring blankly at their desks.

Your hand brushed against your pocket, the outline of your phone reminding you of the chaos from this morning. You couldn’t help but peek down at it. Was it just your imagination, or did it feel warmer than usual?

Stay calm, you told yourself. Don’t freak out. But the thought lingered—what if this wasn’t over? What if he—or it—came back?

You swallowed hard and glanced around the room. No one was paying attention to you, thankfully. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something about today was far from normal.

“So this…” Miss Shin droned on, gesturing at the board where her half-hearted notes were scrawled. Whatever she was explaining had already flown over your head. You didn’t care. You weren’t in the mood to pay attention, let alone write anything down.

You flipped open your notebook—still blank, as usual—and stared at the empty page. The thought of filling it with Miss Shin’s monotony made your eyelids droop. All you wanted was to go back home, crawl into bed, and pretend this bizarre day hadn’t happened. Maybe that was the real reason you were seeing things—exhaustion messing with your brain.

A faint ding from your pocket pulled you out of your thoughts. You frowned and pulled out your phone. A notification glared up at you:

“Write it down.”

What the…? You didn’t remember setting up anything like that. Before you could process it, you sneezed unexpectedly, the sharp sound echoing across the silent classroom. Heads turned toward you, your classmates throwing judgmental looks your way.

You tried to ignore them, but then your phone started to vibrate—loudly. The desk buzzed beneath your hands, and you could feel the attention of the entire room shifting onto you.

This was a nightmare.

Your classmates whispered among themselves, some shooting you annoyed glances. You were already the so-called “bad influence” in the school, the one parents warned their kids to stay away from. But this? This was next-level humiliation.

The phone wouldn’t stop vibrating. You tried pressing random buttons, but nothing worked. It was as if your phone—or he—was demanding your cooperation.

You sighed, gripping your pen. Maybe, just maybe, the only way to shut it up was to do what it wanted. As ridiculous as it sounded, you decided to test your theory.

The moment your pen touched the page and you started copying the notes on the board, the vibrating stopped. Silence finally returned, and you let out a breath of relief.

But your heart raced. This wasn’t normal. None of it was.

Your father had gifted you this phone before he passed away. It was sentimental, irreplaceable. But now it felt like a curse. A device that had taken on a life of its own—or, more disturbingly, a human form.

You glanced at your pocket where the phone rested quietly, as if nothing had happened. You couldn’t shake the thought that whatever this was, it wasn’t over. For now, though, you had no choice but to keep writing, pretending like everything was fine.

The park is quiet, save for the distant chatter of kids playing and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. You sit on a bench, your elbows resting on your knees, and your gaze fixed on the ground. Your phone lies next to you, placed carefully on the seat, as if you’re afraid it might suddenly sprout arms and legs again.

Your schoolbag acts as a barrier between you and the phone, like it’ll somehow protect you from whatever is going on. You sigh heavily, the weight of the day pressing down on you. “I should really see a therapist,” you mutter under your breath, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration.

The unexpected sensation of an arm draping casually over your shoulder sends a shiver down your spine. You freeze, your heart skipping a beat as your head snaps to the side. And there he is—again. The guy who claims to be your phone, lounging as if nothing about this is strange.

“Why did you disappear this morning when my mom came in?” you ask, your voice a mix of confusion and exasperation.

He shrugs nonchalantly, leaning back on the bench like he owns the place. His posture is relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, his expression completely void of emotion. “Nobody else can see me except you.”

His answer is so matter-of-fact that it takes you a second to process. You lean forward, resting your forearms on your knees, and glance at him sideways. “Great,” you say dryly, “so not only do I have a talking phone, but it’s also invisible to everyone else. Just my luck.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the sky like he’s analyzing the clouds. The silence stretches, and you realize something that’s been bugging you since the first time he appeared.

“Do you even have a personality?” you blurt out, sitting up straight to face him. The question isn’t kind, but at this point, you don’t care. He doesn’t seem to have feelings, anyway—why would he? He’s a phone.

He finally turns to look at you, his face as blank as always. Then, without missing a beat, he says, “Apparently, the phone takes after its owner.”

His words hit you like a slap. Your jaw drops, and you feel a rush of indignation. “Excuse me? Are you saying I don’t have a personality?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he replies, completely unfazed.

You stare at him, stunned. Nobody’s ever said anything like that to you before. Sure, you’ve had fake friends talk behind your back and parents who sometimes pointed out your flaws, but being insulted by your own phone? That’s a new low.

“You’ve got some nerve,” you snap, crossing your arms.

He tilts his head, studying you like you’re an object of mild interest. “I’m just stating the facts. You’ve been carrying me around all this time; I’m bound to reflect you.”

You scoff, turning away to glare at the horizon. The breeze ruffles your hair, and you feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck. “You know,” you mutter, “for something that’s supposed to be mine, you’re awfully rude.”

“Rude?” he echoes, sounding genuinely curious. “I didn’t realize honesty was rude. Maybe that’s another reflection of you.”

You whip your head back toward him, your mouth opening to retort, but the look on his face—calm, blank, unbothered—leaves you speechless.

For a moment, you just sit there, glaring at him while he stares back with that same neutral expression. It’s infuriating. You slump back against the bench, throwing your head back and groaning in frustration.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” you say to no one in particular.

He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees and looking at you with something that might almost be amusement. “You kept me for years. This is just karma.”

“Karma for what?” you snap, narrowing your eyes at him.

“For ignoring the warranty,” he deadpans, and for the first time, you think you see the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

You glare at him, utterly done. “I hate you.”

“You’ll still carry me everywhere,” he points out, leaning back again and crossing his arms smugly.

You groan again, pressing your palms to your face because of how annoying he truly was. For a moment neither of you spoke.

“Why would you vibrate in class? That was so embarrassing,” you say, breaking the tension and changing the subject. You’re not about to argue further, so you sling an arm around his shoulder like you’re old friends.

He immediately stiffens and shrugs your arm off with a look of mild disgust. “Because you weren’t writing the notes,” he replies flatly, brushing off your gesture like you’ve personally offended him.

You blink, stunned. The audacity.

“And why do you care so much about that? You’re supposed to be my phone,” you snap, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Because, well…” He pauses, and suddenly, that glowing screen appears above his head again. It’s flipping through your search history.

Your heart drops. “What are you doing?! Close it!” you hiss, panic bubbling in your chest as you glance around to make sure no one’s nearby.

He doesn’t even flinch at your tone, completely unbothered. “Relax. I’m just looking for something,” he says, his voice taking on an infuriatingly smug edge.

“I searched those things because they’re private,” you mutter, your frustration building. You ball your fists at your sides, resisting the urge to throttle him—not that it would make any difference. He’s a freaking machine.

“You shouldn’t have searched them if you didn’t want anyone to see,” he replies, his monotone voice now laced with an evil undertone. His smirk grows as the glowing screen halts, revealing a to-do list. Your middle school to-do list.

You feel the blood drain from your face. “No, no, no,” you mumble, already dreading what’s coming next.

“Let’s see,” he says, clearly enjoying this. He leans forward slightly, reading aloud:

001. Get A’s in at least three subjects.

002. Get a boyfriend before graduation.

003. Make at least one friend.

The list glows mockingly between the two of you.

You groan and press a hand to your forehead. “You’re not seriously going to dwell on something I wrote as a literal kid,” you mutter, voice dripping with disbelief.

“Why not? You still haven’t checked anything off,” he points out, tilting his head like he’s genuinely curious about your failure.

“Because—” you start, your voice rising in frustration, “that was middle school! None of that even matters now!”

“Well, well, well... If I’m looking at your past history and the things in your other notes...” He trails off, his glowing screen flipping again as though searching for the most humiliating detail to dig up.

Then it stops. His screen flashes: 15% character development since middle school.

Your jaw drops. The sheer amount of disrespect—oh, lord. You point an accusatory finger at him, utterly offended by your own phone.

“That is so false! If I hadn’t had character development, I wouldn’t have stood up to the bullies in middle school. Or cut off all my toxic friends!” you argue, arms crossing tightly over your chest. The nerve of this guy.

He tilts his head, unimpressed. “That’s why it said 15% development. The other 85%? Still not there. Let’s just say, you need to study harder instead of spending hours watching those—”

You slap a hand over his mouth, glaring up at him despite the fact that he’s way taller. “SHUT UP!”

He doesn’t resist, just blinks at you like this is all beneath him. Meanwhile, you grab your water bottle and take a sip, trying to calm your boiling frustration. After a deep breath, you lower the bottle and mutter, “If you’ve turned into a human, why can’t you, I don’t know, switch to being female? Maybe I’d connect with you better.”

It’s not really a question. More of a passive-aggressive command for him to get out of your life entirely.

“Well,” he starts, completely unfazed, “cheap phones apparently only transform into males. If your phone was more expensive, maybe I’d be a girl.”

The silence that follows is deafening. His expression is as emotionless as ever, so he clearly doesn’t realize the massive mistake he just made.

You stare at him, the words hitting like a punch to the gut. Slowly, you lower your gaze, your voice quieter now. “It was gifted by my dad… my late dad,” you mumble.

His screen flickers uncertainly, but he doesn’t say anything. You sigh, pressing your palms against your face, trying to hold back the sting of tears threatening to spill.

Your dad had been the best—kind, patient, your biggest supporter. And then, when you were seven, everything changed. After he passed, your mom remarried. You didn’t want to accept the man as your stepdad, not when you still held on so tightly to the memory of your father.

It wasn’t until you were older—seventeen, to be exact—that you realized how selfish you’d been. Your mom had spent years grieving, and she deserved love, even if it hurt you to see someone else in your dad’s place.

The man was nice to you, patient even when you were rude. But every time you looked at him, it reminded you that your dad was gone.

The phone sitting next to you now—this phone—was your dad’s. You’d taken it after growing up, cherishing it because it had been his. Back then, it brought you comfort.

You never could’ve imagined it would one day transform into some smug guy with no tact whatsoever.

“If I wanted my phone to transform into someone… it would be my dad,” you mutter, swiping at a tear that threatens to escape the confines of your closed eyelids.

He stays silent for a moment, his screen flickering dimly before he mumbles, “But… wouldn't it be sad? Seeing him trapped inside a device?”

The softness in his voice makes you laugh—an awkward, bittersweet laugh. What were you even doing? Seeking comfort from your phone?

“Why are you laughing?” he asks, tilting his head in confusion.

“Since you’re so smart and apparently great at giving correct statements, why don’t you figure out yourself why I’m laughing?” you reply, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

He looks thoroughly puzzled, his glowing eyes blinking as though trying to process. Of course, he wouldn’t understand. He was a machine. A device that knew nothing about the complexities of the actual world.

Before you can explain—or tell him to drop it entirely—the skies open up. The first raindrop splatters onto the ground, quickly followed by another, then another. Within seconds, it’s pouring.

Your smile fades, replaced with pure horror as realization strikes. He’s your phone. Not a regular guy. Meaning— “You’re not waterproof!” you yelp, panic kicking in.

“What?” he asks, his confusion somehow even more clueless than before.

“We need to run!” you blurt out, already yanking off your jacket.

You grab his shoulders, tugging him down since he’s ridiculously tall—and far too proud of it. Wrapping the jacket over his head as a makeshift cover, you mutter under your breath, “I swear, if you short-circuit on me, I’m going to lose it.”

He mumbles something, but you’re not listening. You grab his hand, practically dragging him through the downpour. The jacket flutters slightly as you shield him, doing your best to keep him—and by extension, your phone—dry.

If anyone saw you, they’d think this was a scene straight out of a romance movie. The two of you running through the rain, hands intertwined, your jacket protecting his head.

But no. This wasn’t a romantic moment. Not even close.

This was you desperately trying to save your phone. A phone that was probably going to haunt you later by bringing up your middle school to-do list the second it powered back on.

The next day, you hug your pillow tightly, the soft fabric providing a fleeting moment of peace as sleep lingers in your half-conscious mind. The blanket drapes over you completely, cocooning you in warmth, and for a blissful second, you forget the bizarre events of the day before.

That is, until a cold splash of water shocks you into reality.

“WHAT THE HELL?” you hiss, bolting upright, water dripping from your hair and stinging your eyes. You frantically swipe at your face, blinking to focus on the perpetrator.

Standing there with a glass in hand and an infuriatingly calm expression is him.

“Just waking you up,” he says with a shrug, as if drenching someone in cold water is the most reasonable way to start a morning.

Your patience snaps. Without thinking, you grip his shoulders and push him down onto the now-soaked bed, your movements fueled by a mix of irritation and disbelief. You hover over him, faces mere inches apart, as you glare.

“If you ever pull that stunt again,” you growl, your voice low and dangerous, “I swear I’ll punch you. Hard.”

For a moment, he stares up at you, unflinching. His expression remains annoyingly blank, devoid of any real emotion. “You won’t,” he says flatly, his voice laced with the same maddening nonchalance.

The tension in the air is palpable, and just as you’re about to argue—or maybe prove him wrong—the sound of your door creaking open freezes you in place.

Your mother stands in the doorway, her expression teetering between confusion and concern as she takes in the scene: you, soaking wet and hovering over what appears to be… nothing.

You glance down, heart sinking.

The boy is gone.

In his place, lying on the bed, is your phone—completely ordinary, as if nothing ever happened.

You gape at it, then back at your mom, trying to string together some sort of explanation. But what could you even say? That your phone turned into a person yesterday, drenched you in water, and then vanished the second she walked in?

The bed is still soaked with the cold water your phone—now suspiciously ordinary—had poured on you moments ago. Your mother’s voice cuts through the tense silence like a whip, her tone sharp and unforgiving.

“Did you wet your bed?” she demands, though it’s not really a question. Her eyes are blazing with indignation, and you can tell she already believes the answer.

Your stomach twists in frustration. Of all things, this has to happen on a weekend—a day meant for rest, now utterly ruined by this bizarre, unbelievable mess. And all because of that darn phone.

“No, Mom… I don’t know how the water got there,” you mutter, keeping your voice as steady as possible. The truth is out of the question. Telling her your phone had somehow turned into a boy and splashed you awake would sound absurd even to you.

“So the water just appeared there by itself?” she snaps, crossing her arms as if she’s daring you to double down on your story. Her disbelief burns in the air between you, and you feel a spark of anger flicker beneath your skin.

Your mother has always been quick to anger, her patience worn thin ever since your dad passed away. You love her—of course, you do—but moments like this stretch your tolerance to its limit.

She huffs loudly, a sound filled with both exasperation and finality. “I expect this mess cleaned up before you go anywhere,” she says curtly, her words laced with a warning. Then, without waiting for a response, she turns on her heel and shuts the door behind her with a thud.

You’re left alone in the room, staring at the wet mattress and the phone in your hand. The absurdity of the situation hits you all over again, and a bitter laugh bubbles in your throat.

“Thanks for that,” you mutter under your breath to the device, as if it could still hear you.

But it remains silent—an ordinary, lifeless phone. And yet, you can’t shake the feeling that somewhere within its circuits, it’s smirking.

You sit on the soaked bed, hugging your knees to your chest. The chill from the cold water clings to your skin, but in the biting cold of December, it doesn’t really matter anymore. The wet bed is just another indignity added to the list of things you’re enduring today—courtesy of your phone.

Your eyes trail to the closed door, and a heaviness settles in your chest. Your mom hardly speaks to you unless it’s about your studies. Anything else—your health, your feelings—just turns into a sharp yell, as though shouting could substitute for care.

With a sigh, you get up, water dripping from your clothes as you grab a cloth to clean the floor. Kneeling down, you watch the fabric soak up the water, leaving dark patches on the cloth as it gets heavier.

“Such a sad life I have,” you mutter irritably, throwing a glance toward your phone sitting innocently on the desk. Its stillness is almost mocking, like it’s pretending to have no part in this disaster.

Your lips curl into a taunting smirk as you direct your words at it. “Must be nice, huh? Creating a mess and then leaving me to deal with it. Why not become a human and help me clean this up?”

You roll your eyes, half-hoping—no, fully expecting—it to transform and lend a hand. But no. The lazy little piece of tech remains where it is, as lifeless as any other phone. The longer you stare at it, the more ridiculous you feel.

“Figures,” you huff under your breath, dragging the damp cloth across the floor. The absurdity of it all makes you question yourself. Did it ever really turn into a human? Or are you just losing your mind?

Either way, it’s not helping. And now, the floor’s dry, but your patience is wrung out completely.

“When we reach there, you don’t get to disturb me, Niki,” you say firmly to the guy walking beside you. He’s the embodiment of your phone—a fact you’re still trying to wrap your head around.

“Niki?” he repeats, tilting his head in confusion, his expression as blank as an untouched canvas. “Who’s Niki here?”

“You,” you reply with an exasperated sigh. “I’m naming you Niki. Or Riki, whatever. It’s too weird to keep thinking of you as my phone.”

“That’s a weird name,” he comments, his tone matter-of-fact.

Your eyes narrow at him. “Be happy I’m not holding a grudge for what you did this morning,” you snap, barely holding back your frustration.

“What did I do so wrong?” he asks, genuinely perplexed. His human brows knit together in confusion, and it almost makes you doubt his intentions. Almost. “You set an alarm, and I woke you up,” he adds, as if the logic is foolproof.

“You created a mess!” you counter, gesturing emphatically with your hands. “Yes, I set an alarm—but a virtual alarm. Not an invitation for someone to literally pour cold water on me in the middle of freezing winter!”

He stares at you, his innocent expression unshaken, and you groan in defeat.

Scolding him feels pointless. At the end of the day, he’s still a phone—albeit a bizarrely human one. And while his actions drive you up the wall, you remind yourself that yelling at him won’t change anything. Technology doesn’t have feelings.

Or so you keep telling yourself.

And now, here you are, on your way to a study session with two classmates. Not because you’re overly eager or dedicated, but because you’re failing your classes. Hard. And your phone—master of your life apparently—had made it a point to remind you of the ancient to-do list you’d scribbled in middle school.

The list wasn’t exactly groundbreaking:

i. Get a boyfriend. ii. Get a friend. iii. Score at least three A’s in school.

Simple, right? Wrong.

Studying alone never worked for you. If you tried, you’d inevitably end up daydreaming, scrolling through social media, or finding creative ways to procrastinate. So, you’d resorted to digging through the school’s study groups and joining the only active one left. You didn’t know who the other two members were, but that was a minor detail.

You grab your phone—yes, the normal phone, since Riki decided to turn back into his original form. You still cringe at how uninspired his name is, but for now, it works.

The plan is simple: fit into the study group, make a friend (or something that vaguely resembles friendship), and start checking boxes off the list. Not that your phone would ever know, you think with a sly smirk.

Shoving the device into your pocket, you make your way to the designated spot, but as soon as you see the two group members, you freeze.

It’s Eunmi and Jungwon.

Eunmi—the same girl who once shot you a disgusted look and turned her back on you like you were nothing more than yesterday’s trash. Oh, how you’d love to knock that smug grin off her face.

And then there’s Jungwon. Handsome, quiet Jungwon. You’ve never spoken to him, but he has an air about him that practically screams “perfect study partner.”

Suddenly, you realize how this could work in your favor.

Step one: Get a boyfriend. Jungwon’s good looks and his apparent lack of social drama make him the ideal choice. You’re not looking for love; you’re looking to cross a line off your list.

Step two: Make a friend. Eunmi? Ugh. As much as it pains you, she qualifies—even if you have to grit your teeth and fake it. If not her, then someone else will eventually fit the bill. Surely, you’re not that unfriendable… right?

Step three: Score three A’s. With Jungwon’s brains and a bit of effort on your part, that goal might actually be achievable.

It’s a win-win-win, you tell yourself, a cunning glint in your eye. You take a deep breath and plaster on your most convincing smile. It’s time to work some magic—your reputation be damned.

You slide into the seat opposite Jungwon, deliberately ignoring Eunmi. The phone in your pocket is entirely forgotten for now as you focus on your new plan.

“So, I guess I’ll be studying with you guys?” you ask, letting a soft, harmless smile linger on your lips while keeping your gaze locked on Jungwon. You casually unzip your bag, pulling out a battered zoology book and setting it on the table as if you’re here for serious business.

Jungwon, polite as ever, gives you a small nod. “Well, kind of. You can say that,” he replies. He doesn’t seem unfriendly, though you can tell by his tone that he and Eunmi have been in this study group for a while. Of course, that makes you the outsider. Not that it bothers you—this is just a stepping stone to your ultimate goals.

And then Eunmi speaks.

“What made you want to study all of a sudden, Miss Bad Grades?”

You clench your jaw but force your face to remain neutral, even though your fingers itch to grab a fistful of her perfectly styled hair and yank. How dare this girl try to ruin your impression in front of Jungwon? Sure, your reputation in school isn’t stellar, but she didn’t have to say it out loud.

“I wanted to do better,” you reply smoothly, keeping your voice calm and unbothered. Your smile doesn’t waver, though inside, you’re plotting about five different ways to get back at her if she keeps this up.

The study session has barely begun, and already, you’re wondering how you’re going to survive without snapping. You glance at Jungwon, hoping he’ll say something to shift the conversation, but he’s already flipping through his notebook, oblivious to the silent tension brewing between you and Eunmi.

The session drags on, and while your eyes occasionally skim the words in your textbook, your brain is busy analyzing the way Jungwon’s lips press together when he’s concentrating. You imagine how soft they must feel, how it would be to kiss him. But no, not yet. You can’t. Not until you’ve executed your plan.

Time slips away unnoticed until your phone starts buzzing in your pocket, jolting you from your daydreams. Internally, you curse. What does Riki want this time? That mischievous, human-turned-phone was always up to something.

Eunmi, of course, notices. She shakes her head in that condescending way that practically screams, See? I told you she’s not serious about studying. You don’t need to hear her words to know she’s silently plotting to turn Jungwon against you. The smug look on her face makes your fingers twitch.

“Such a bitch,” you mutter under your breath before quickly masking your irritation.

“I’ll—be right back,” you say with a sheepish smile, standing up from the table. The chair scrapes against the floor, earning you a scoff from Eunmi. She doesn’t even try to hide her disdain.

Jungwon gives a distracted hum, barely lifting his head from his book. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Could this guy act like he cares for once? I’m right here, desperate for your attention, and you’re more invested in spermatogenesis?

Your phone is still vibrating as you weave through the tables, making your way to the restroom. Once inside, you slip into a stall and lock the door behind you. Pulling out your phone, you press the power button like you’re interrogating a criminal.

“Hey, Riki? Why are you buzzing?” you hiss, glaring at the glowing phone in your hand. Frustration bubbles in your chest as you slump onto the toilet seat, trying to avoid drawing more attention.

Before you can even blink, the phone morphs, and there he is—Riki. Towering over you, his presence taking up the cramped stall like he owns it. You freeze, your eyes widening as you realize just how compromising this position looks. His knees brush yours, and his hands press against the walls, effectively trapping you in place.

“H-Hey! Get off me!” you stammer, squirming as much as the limited space allows. But even when he shifts slightly, it doesn’t make much of a difference. He’s still leaning in way too close for comfort.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he says, his voice low but cutting. “Why were you staring at Jungwon instead of finishing the chapter?”

The question knocks the breath out of you. You gape at him, your brain scrambling to come up with an excuse. How does he even know? He’s just a phone!

“That’s—none of your business!” you sputter, crossing your arms defensively.

“Oh, it is my business,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t I the one keeping track of your precious little checklist?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “One of the tasks is getting a boyfriend, isn’t it? So yeah, I was looking at him. Got a problem with that?”

Riki’s expression shifts, and for the first time, there’s a flicker of something almost human in his sharp gaze. Disbelief? Annoyance? Whatever it is, it’s enough to make him scoff audibly.

“You’re thinking him? That guy? Seriously?” he asks, his voice dripping with judgment. “Your taste in men is worse than I thought.”

“Excuse me?” You glare, feeling your blood boil. “He’s charming and—”

“You wouldn’t know charming if it hit you in the face,” Riki cuts you off, rolling his eyes with an exasperated sigh. For someone who used to be a piece of metal and glass, he’s got an awful lot of opinions.

Before you can retort, he turns back into your phone in the blink of an eye, falling toward the floor. You scramble to catch him, nearly fumbling in the process, and clutch him tightly in your hand.

“You are the worst,” you mutter, shoving him back into your pocket.

But as you stand up and unlock the stall, brushing yourself off, the thought lingers: Why did he get so worked up? You shake your head, pushing the question away. Who cares? It’s not like his opinion matters, right?

Right.

A week passes, and you’re still not fully adjusted to the bizarre reality that your phone occasionally transforms into a sarcastic, human-sized headache named Riki. It’s unsettling but oddly entertaining—though you’d never admit that to him.

The study group, on the other hand, is a battlefield you didn’t sign up for. Not because of the studying—oh no, that’s manageable. It’s Eunmi, who seems to have declared you her mortal enemy the moment you walked in.

Her latest tactics are as subtle as a neon sign. First, there was the juice incident. She accidentally spilled her drink all over your notes, forcing you to grit your teeth and smile like a beauty pageant contestant while internally screaming. You knew it wasn’t an accident—her little smirk gave her away—but yelling at her in front of Jungwon? No way. That would only play into her hands.

Then came the note-snatching debacle. Eunmi sweetly asked to borrow your notes, even though hers were perfectly fine. Next thing you know, there’s a loud rip as she flips a page too aggressively. Your precious, perfectly organised notes—ruined. You’re convinced she’s trying to provoke you into losing your temper, hoping Jungwon will see you as the unhinged maniac she wants you to be.

But you’re smarter than that. You refuse to give her the satisfaction.

Jungwon, oblivious as ever, doesn’t seem to notice the cold war brewing at the table. Over the past week, you’ve come to realise just how clueless he is—not just about Eunmi’s schemes but also about your less-than-stellar reputation.

How is it possible that he doesn’t know? You were practically infamous for your fiery temper in school. Yet here he is, helping you with notes, explaining concepts patiently, even sharing his own work with you—all without a hint of hesitation.

Sometimes, he surprises you even more. Like when he casually suggests the two of you study alone. Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest each time he does, but you force yourself to decline.

Not because you don’t want to.

You do—desperately.

But according to your well-studied guide on “How to Win a Guy Over,” playing hard to get is essential. If you said yes too quickly, wouldn’t he stop finding you interesting?

So, with every ounce of willpower, you smile, place a hand over your racing heart, and politely refuse.

“Maybe next time,” you say, pretending to be unfazed, when really, you’re screaming internally.

You tell yourself it’s working. Jungwon seems more intrigued every day—or at least, that’s what you tell yourself to justify the agony of sitting through another study session with her.

Lately, Riki—or Niki, or whatever you had whimsically decided to call him—had taken it upon himself to discipline you. Whenever study time rolled around, he would shut your bedroom door with the finality of a prison warden, ensuring zero distractions.

At first, it was kind of helpful. You begrudgingly admitted that. But as the days went on, it started to get unbearable.

Without your phone—because your phone was, unfortunately, a human being now—there was no scrolling through your feed, no binge-watching your favorite group’s reels, and no celebrity TikToks. Worse, you hadn’t even heard TXT’s latest song or watched their new music video because someone refused to let you.

You tapped your pen against your desk, fidgeting with boredom. “Please,” you whined, turning in your chair to face him. “I studied for like, three hours, didn’t I? Now be a good boy and let mama see some reels or TikToks!” You added the last part with a teasing lilt, hoping to fluster him.

But you forgot—this was Riki. Your sentient, emotionally unavailable phone. Feelings? Not his thing.

“No,” he replied flatly, arms crossed like he was the boss of you.

“Please, Miki!” you tried again, throwing in some puppy-dog eyes for good measure.

He raised a brow, unimpressed. “Miki? Didn’t you already name me Riki?” His tone was laced with exasperation, like he couldn’t fathom how you’d forgotten the name you gave him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you huffed, brushing off his sarcasm. “I swear, it’s just one music video. That’s it. I’ve earned it!”

He didn’t respond immediately, his face a mix of suspicion and resignation. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. But just one video.”

Your face lit up as a glowing screen materialized above his head, displaying the thumbnail of TXT’s latest music video. As it began to play, you clapped in delight and sang along, fully immersing yourself in the moment.

But just as you were getting into it—pausing to admire Soobin’s part—Riki froze the video mid-frame.

“Enough,” he said, his tone as dry as the Sahara.

You glared at him, fists clenched as if contemplating whether punching him was worth the effort. Instead, you let out an exaggerated groan, slumping in your chair.

Riki ignored your dramatics, a timer popping up in the digital display above his head. It ticked down with cruel efficiency, mocking you.

“Can you believe this?” you muttered under your breath. “My phone is moody.”

“I wish I was with Jungwon,” you muttered, shooting a glare at the sulking figure in front of you. You didn’t even try to hide the exasperation in your voice.

Riki’s eyes snapped to yours, his expression hardening as if you’d just insulted his entire existence. “Why the blonde-haired guy?” he asked, his lips twisting into a bitter frown.

It was the first time you’d seen him show this much emotion, and it was shockingly clear—he despised Jungwon.

“He has a name,” you said defensively, crossing your arms.

Riki wasn’t having it. “So, you’re now his personal lawyer?” he shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “This is why you don’t get good grades. Stop running after that guy.”

You blinked, caught between indignation and disbelief. “Excuse me?” His logic—or lack thereof—was baffling. He’d been the one insisting you get a boyfriend before high school ended. But now? Now he was acting like you’d committed some unspeakable crime.

Before you could form a retort, he sighed dramatically and transformed back into a phone, flopping onto your bed with a heavy thud.

You groaned, snatching him up. “What is your problem?” You pressed the power button, trying to unlock the screen, but the phone didn’t respond. No matter how many times you swiped or tapped, it stubbornly refused to work.

“Are you kidding me?” you hissed, your annoyance bubbling over.

From your bed, the phone-turned-human smirked, lounging like he owned the place before flickering back into a phone. The audacity.

“Aghhh, fine! I’ll study!” you snapped, stomping back to your desk. Your chair scraped loudly against the floor as you plopped down, glaring daggers at the sulking phone.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him flickering in and out of human form, like some glitching video game character. One moment he was there, leaning against your pillows with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look; the next, he was just a lifeless phone.

It was almost…cute? No, no, you shook your head. There was nothing cute about your phone-human hybrid being this petty.

Still, you found your eyes wandering back to him more often than you’d like to admit. And each time, you caught the faintest hint of a smug expression on his face, as if he knew he was winning this ridiculous battle of wills.

“Yes, Mom, I’ll go! Just two minutes!” you shout, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a passable top in a rush. All this, just to take out the trash. A noble cause? Hardly. But it was enough to earn your mom’s approval.

Riki—or your phone, rather—lay silent on your desk. He wasn’t in human form right now, but if he were, you could already picture him sulking. He’d been unusually quiet since you decided to help your mom instead of following his meticulous study schedule. Not that you minded the silence; it felt like a small victory.

With a sigh, you grab the trash bag, sliding your phone into your pocket. “Be good,” you mutter under your breath, half expecting some smart-aleck comment from him, but the screen remains dark.

Slipping into your worn-out slippers, you trudge down the apartment stairs, the trash bag swinging lightly in your grip. The cool evening air brushes against your face as you step outside, breathing in the faint scent of street food from the stalls down the block.

“Phew,” you murmur to yourself, relieved to have made it out without any drama. That is until your heart nearly stops.

There, by the communal trash bins, is Jungwon. Casual and effortlessly perfect, dressed in a plain hoodie and jeans, his hair falling into his eyes in a way that shouldn’t look this good.

Your gaze drops to your outfit—a mismatched catastrophe of sweatpants, an old shirt, and slippers. You might as well be cosplaying a beggar (according to your mom).

Mentally cursing your life choices, you toss the trash bag into the bin, dusting your hands and praying for a clean escape. But before you can make your getaway, a hand touches your shoulder.

“You live around here?” Jungwon’s voice is light and curious, but it feels like a spotlight on your very soul.

“Uh, yeah… kind of,” you stammer, suddenly hyper-aware of how ridiculous you must look.

“And that is…?” His voice trails off as he points behind you, his brows knitting together.

You turn slowly, dread pooling in your stomach. Standing a few feet away is Riki, in his fully human form, arms crossed, looking like he’s been summoned from the depths of your worst nightmares.

Your hand shoots into your pocket, fumbling for your phone. Except—your pocket is empty.

Your brain short-circuits. He can see Riki?!

“Boyfriend. Her boyfriend,” Riki announces sharply, his voice cutting through the moment like a knife. His eyes narrow at Jungwon, his disdain palpable. If looks could kill, Jungwon would have been incinerated on the spot.

Your mouth drops open, no words forming. Riki, your phone-human hybrid, is showing emotion. And not just any emotion—jealousy.

Jungwon’s lips part, clearly taken aback, but he quickly recovers, a polite smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Oh… I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do,” Riki snaps, stepping closer and crossing his arms protectively.

All you can do is stand there, torn between laughing hysterically at the absurdity of the situation and wanting the earth to swallow you whole. This is your life now—your phone pretending to be your boyfriend in front of your crush. Fantastic.

“Is it true?” Jungwon asks, tilting his head slightly. His tone is soft, uncertain, like he’s piecing together a puzzle that suddenly doesn’t make sense. He had never known you had a boyfriend. The poor guy had even started thinking maybe—just maybe—you might be interested in him. But now? He thinks otherwise.

“Yeah… I think so,” you mutter, your voice barely audible as you glance at Riki. Confusion swirls in your head like a storm. Why on earth is this bastard acting like a full-fledged human, let alone ruining the sliver of progress you'd made with Jungwon?

“It’s 100% true,” Riki cuts in, his voice low and menacing as he steps between you and Jungwon. “So, I suggest you stay away from my girlfriend.”

Jungwon blinks, his lips parting slightly in disbelief. “Oh… okay,” he says after a moment, his voice a mix of confusion and reluctant acceptance. Relief flashes briefly across his face—better to find out now than after he’d fallen for you completely, he reasons.

He tosses his trash into the bin, bows politely—because, of course, Jungwon’s still a gentleman—and turns on his heel, walking back toward his apartment.

As soon as he’s out of sight, you whirl on Riki, fury bubbling just beneath the surface. “You ruined it, Niki!” you hiss through gritted teeth, your voice a harsh whisper to avoid attracting any curious neighbors.

Riki just shrugs, utterly unbothered. A screen materializes above his head, glowing faintly in the dim light. It displays a graph, bold and undeniable: Jungwon negatively affects your study efficiency by 60%.

“See?” he says, pointing at the glowing data like it’s irrefutable proof. “I’m doing you a favor. Jungwon’s presence is literally detrimental to your academic success.”

You stare at the screen, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. You’re at a loss. How are you supposed to argue with statistics? It’s infuriatingly logical, and yet, entirely absurd.

Your foot taps impatiently on the pavement as you cross your arms. “Why do you hate Jungwon so much?” you ask, your voice sharp with exasperation. Deep down, you’re fighting the urge to smack him—though you quickly remind yourself that assaulting your phone probably isn’t the best idea.

“Like I said,” Riki replies, folding his arms with a dramatic sigh. “That boy ruins your studies. You could look for a boyfriend somewhere else.”

You groan, running a hand down your face. The memory of Jungwon’s hurt, betrayed expression as he walked away is burned into your mind. But there’s something even more pressing you need to know. You fix Riki with a narrowed gaze, your brow arching suspiciously. “Why did you say you were my boyfriend?”

For the first time, Riki hesitates. His usually confident demeanor falters, and a sheepish smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He scratches the back of his neck, avoiding your glare like a guilty child caught red-handed.

“I mean… it’s the most effective method to turn a guy away,” he says finally, shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you deadpan, but Riki presses on, completely unfazed.

“It’s just basic strategy,” he explains, nodding as though he’s a seasoned love expert. “I’ve read enough online to know that guys back off when they think someone’s already taken. Works like a charm.”

You stare at him, incredulous. The audacity of this device—no, this thing—is beyond anything you’ve ever encountered. “You’re basing my love life on… internet articles?”

“Trust me,” he says with a wink, flashing a smug grin. “I’ve got access to all the data.”

You groan again, louder this time, wondering if tossing him into the trash bin would solve all your problems. If only.

Riki trails behind you as you climb the stairs to your apartment, his steps eerily silent despite his human-like form. At your door, you stop abruptly and turn to him, panic creeping into your voice. “Turn back into a phone, Niki. Now.”

He folds his arms and tilts his head, looking every bit like a rebellious teenager. “You literally named me Riki. Can you settle on one name for once?” His tone carries a tinge of irritation, and you blink in disbelief at the audacity of your phone to talk back to you.

“Okay, fine. My dear Riki, please turn back into a phone—”

Before you can finish, your mother’s voice cuts through the air like a whip. “Y/N! Are you back yet?”

Your heart lurches, a surge of panic shooting through you. Your eyes dart to Riki, your expression pleading. “Turn back into a phone. Now,” you hiss under your breath, motioning wildly for him to do something—anything—before disaster strikes.

To your immense relief, Riki flashes you an exaggerated wink and morphs seamlessly back into your phone, the glowing screen dimming as he settles into your palm. You clutch him tightly, hiding him in your fist just as the door swings open.

Your mother appears, her usual stern expression replaced with something unnervingly mild. “Why are you standing there? Come inside and study.”

Her voice is calm—too calm. It sends a shiver down your spine. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost believe this gentleness was her true nature. But you do know better, and you don’t trust it for a second.

“Coming,” you mumble, stepping inside. Your stepdad is lounging on the couch, the rustle of his newspaper the only sound he makes. You deliberately avoid his gaze, moving as quietly as possible. Your footsteps are measured and light as you head straight for your room, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Once inside, you let out a long, weary sigh, your body sinking onto the bed. The room is dim, curtains drawn tightly shut to block out the evening light. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out Riki and place him beside you on the bed.

“Hey,” you whisper, exhaustion evident in your voice. “You can turn into a human now.”

Barely a second passes before a familiar presence materializes next to you. Riki sits there, leaning back casually against the headboard like he owns the place. His eyes sparkle with that same smug mischief, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

The two of you are lying side by side, close enough for your shoulders to brush. The thought hits you suddenly: if anyone walked in right now, they’d think you were a couple. The intimacy of the moment feels strangely... natural.

But you shake the thought away, annoyed at yourself for even entertaining it. You’re not interested in Riki like that. You’re not. Except...

You steal a glance at him. His human form is alarmingly realistic, right down to the faint curve of his lips and the way his hair falls perfectly out of place.

Maybe you’re not interested in Jungwon anymore. Maybe—just maybe—you like Riki instead.

But there’s no way you’d ever admit that. Not to him. The moment those words leave your mouth, he’ll launch into some long-winded lecture about how technology can’t reciprocate feelings. You’d never hear the end of it.

Riki catches you staring and raises an eyebrow, smirking. “What?”

“Nothing,” you snap, turning away quickly, cheeks heating up.

“Sure,” he drawls, his tone dripping with playful suspicion. “Keep telling yourself that, Y/N.”

You groan, grabbing a pillow and smacking him with it. He laughs, the sound annoyingly human, as he ducks out of the way.

This is your life now, you think, burying your face in your hands. And somehow, against all odds, you don’t entirely hate it.

An idea sparks in your mind as you turn onto your side, your gaze landing on Riki. He’s sitting upright, leaning back against the headboard, his expression unreadable. You hesitate for a moment before speaking, voice soft yet teasing. “Hey… since you’re a phone—”

Riki tilts his head slightly, intrigued, the faintest arch of his brow urging you to continue. He lets out a curious hum, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he waits for whatever nonsense you’re about to spout.

For all his smugness, you remind yourself, Riki is still a phone. And phones are supposed to be smart, right? Smarter than this, at least.

You clear your throat, sitting up just enough to meet his gaze. “So, I’m in search of a boyfriend,” you begin, the words tumbling out too quickly. You falter for a second as Riki’s side-eye nearly makes you choke on your own sentence. His expression is the perfect mix of judgmental and unimpressed—eerily similar to your mom’s whenever she catches you slacking off on your studies.

“Of course, while studying too,” you add hastily, holding your hands up defensively. You know better than to ignore the unspoken priorities Riki seems to share with your mother.

He doesn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue. You take a deep breath, your next words tumbling out in one rushed, embarrassed blur. “Wouldn’t it be nice if you… you know, taught me how to kiss?”

Riki’s reaction is immediate and comical. His eyes widen, and his lips part as if he’s about to say something, only for his voice to falter into a confused sputter. “What??”

His expression is so innocent, so utterly clueless, that you almost feel guilty. But not enough to take it back. A tiny part of you is curious—what would it feel like, even if he isn’t technically human?

“Is that how single you really are?” Riki’s voice drips with mockery, his lips twitching into an amused smirk. “Seriously?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you throw the nearest pillow at him in a half-hearted attempt to regain your dignity. “Don’t act like you’re better than me,” you snap, though your voice lacks bite. “I’m just—curious, okay? And you’re the first guy I’ve been close to, so it’s only natural!”

Riki doesn’t look convinced. If anything, he looks even more amused. “Natural? That’s bold coming from someone asking her phone for kissing lessons.”

You roll your eyes, frustrated but undeterred. “You’re not just a phone! You’re—well, you’re you. And besides,” you mutter, lowering your gaze, “it’s not like you’ll judge me for being bad at it. You’re not even real.”

“Ouch.” Riki places a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Not real? I’m literally the only reason you’re not failing your exams right now.”

You bury your face in your hands, groaning. “Forget I said anything.”

But Riki isn’t letting this go. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that,” he says, leaning back with a smug grin. “Is it because you think I don’t understand emotions the way a human does?”

You hesitate, guilt pricking at the edges of your conscience. “No! That’s not—”

He cuts you off with a knowing look, his smirk softening just slightly. “Relax. You’re single. It’s pathetic, but I get it.”

“Gee, thanks,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you grab the blanket and throw it over the both of you.

You roll closer to him, your face buried in his chest as you sigh dramatically. “See?” you mumble, your voice muffled. “I’ve been single my whole life. No boyfriend, no first kiss, nothing. You’re the only guy who’s stuck around, and even then, you’re technically stuck with me.”

Riki rolls his eyes, a mix of pity and exasperation crossing his face. “Wow. Way to guilt-trip your phone.”

You peek up at him, hopeful. “So… will you?”

He shakes his head, clearly unimpressed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Is that a yes?”

Riki sighs, muttering something under his breath about how pathetic humans are. But he doesn’t move away, which you decide to take as a yes.

After all, he’s just a machine, right? He doesn’t understand what this means. Not really. And that’s exactly why you’re doing this—or at least, that’s what you tell yourself as your heart pounds in your chest.

Your eyes light up the moment Riki nods, the glowing screen above his head dimming to black. Without a second thought, you grab a pillow and plop it over his face as you climb onto him, pinning him down. Or at least, you try to pin him down—because no matter how much determination you pour into your stance, it’s painfully obvious you’re more like an ant attempting to subdue an elephant.

Still, you try to exude confidence, looking down at him with a smirk. “Only for research purposes… of course,” you announce dramatically, hands planted on his chest like you’re staking your claim.

Riki, unimpressed as always, rolls his eyes. “Yeah… research purposes,” he repeats with dripping sarcasm.

He shifts under you, and for a brief moment, you forget he’s a phone. Forget that his abilities extend far beyond your average human knowledge. Within seconds, he’s analyzing articles, tutorials, and even kissing technique videos from the depths of the internet. His hands move to cup your cheeks, startling you with the sheer firmness of his touch.

“Hey, gentle!” you mumble, your words muffled by the pressure on your cheeks. You raise a hand to tap against his shoulder, a mix of surprise and irritation bubbling up. “You’re squishing my face!”

Riki’s hands retreat instantly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. For all his snark and superiority, you realize he doesn’t quite know his own strength—or, perhaps, he doesn’t understand the delicacy required for moments like this. After all, he’s a phone. Why would he know?

He clears his throat, his tone shifting into something more clinical, more detached. “According to the articles—”

You don’t let him finish. Before he can launch into a lecture, you lean forward and press your lips to his, cutting him off entirely.

It’s messy, clumsy even, your inexperience showing in the way your lips move against his. But the taste of him—soft, cool, and faintly electric—takes you by surprise. Not that you’ve kissed anyone else before, but something about this feels… better. Different.

“Just feel,” you whisper against his lips, your breath mingling with his in the quiet room. For once, Riki doesn’t argue, doesn’t mock. His hands find their way to your waist, steadying you with an ease that betrays his otherwise flustered expression.

He’s stunned. Completely and utterly stunned. For a first kiss, you’re better than he would have expected, not that he’d ever admit it. He wonders, fleetingly, if this is what those articles meant by connection.

And then, just as he’s starting to process the whirlwind of sensations, you stop. You rest your head against his chest, your body growing heavier as exhaustion takes over.

“Wait—are you falling asleep?” he asks, incredulous.

Your response is a barely coherent mumble, your lips still lightly pressed against his. “Mhm. Tired.”

Riki sighs, frustration laced with disbelief. He feels the faint trickle of drool escaping from your mouth onto his, his lips parting in distaste. “Hey, you’re drooling—”

“Charge you in the morning,” you murmur sleepily, cutting him off again.

He stares at you, torn between exasperation and something he can’t quite place. He adjusts you carefully, shifting your weight so you’re resting more comfortably against his chest. He makes sure your head doesn’t slide too close to his charging port—because as awkward as this moment is, he’s not about to risk short-circuiting because of you.

Still, as he looks down at your peaceful expression, a strange sensation tugs at him. It’s foreign, unquantifiable, something no article or video could explain. He brushes a hand over your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle, and lets out a soft sigh.

“Is this… what they meant?” he whispers, more to himself than to you.

The answer doesn’t come, but for once, Riki doesn’t feel the need to know.

You wake up with a soft murmur, the warmth of sleep still clinging to your skin. You realize, half-dazed, that your arms are wrapped around what feels like a body—Riki’s body. His form is strangely solid and comforting, and in your sleepy haze, you have no intention of moving. His warmth against you is too cozy, and the soft rise and fall of his “chest”—though artificial—makes you feel safer than you have in a while.

“Riki...” you murmur again, still unsure of what time it is, your words heavy with drowsiness. But then, you feel the slight shift of his body, and you hear his voice—distorted and rough, as though it's being dragged from the depths of a drained battery.

“My battery's low,” he whispers, a groan underlying his words. “Please charge me real quick...” His voice cracks, but you can't help but chuckle at how human it sounds, despite him being technically not a person.

You bury your face deeper into his chest, too comfortable to get up, and in a daze, you mumble, “Just five more minutes... I'm too cozy...”

But Riki doesn’t let you get away with it. There’s a slight, almost exaggerated sigh from him before he says, “No... It's literally six a.m.... Please get ready... for school.”

You groan in response, the panic setting in as you finally start to register his words. “Mom should've woken me up...” You shoot out of bed, suddenly scrambling to get ready. The weight of the morning hits you all at once—your mind still fuzzy but your body on overdrive as you throw yourself into a frenzy of motion.

Your fingers tremble as you tug off your pajama top, realizing with horror that you haven't even showered. You curse under your breath, glancing at Riki, who’s still next to you.

Your heart skips a beat. Wait.

“Riki,” you mutter, an unsettling thought popping into your head. You pause, standing mid-action, your clothes half-changed. “Did you always see me change?” Your voice cracks as you ask, and your cheeks start to heat up, a flush spreading across your face as the realization creeps in.

You’ve always placed your phone on the bed or on the drawer while changing. Could he have been watching all this time, even before his human-phone transformation?

You glance over at Riki, and to your surprise, you see his screen flicker with a rapid flush of red, like he's embarrassed. His voice, strained and hurried, shoots back at you, “NO!” It's a sharp refusal, almost defensive, and it makes you pause in your tracks.

“Did you...?” you ask again, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“I said NO!” His voice is forceful now, though still faint from the low battery, and you can see the unmistakable redness flickering across his screen. It’s such a far cry from the dispassionate, cold phone he once was, and it throws you off. Was this the same Riki who had no emotions at all when he first turned into a human? The same one who would have no qualms about anything?

The thought makes you chuckle nervously, trying to dismiss the awkwardness that crawls up your neck. “Okay, okay, I get it. Stop yelling.”

You roll your eyes and go back to getting dressed, though the entire room suddenly feels way smaller than it should. You can’t help but throw a glance at Riki again—who, despite being a phone, seems to be desperately looking away from you, his screen flickering like a bashful person avoiding eye contact.

As you change, you remind yourself over and over that Riki is just a phone—a very advanced phone, yes, but still just a phone. It’s only logical that he can’t be embarrassed. You try to shrug it off, but the blush still lingers on your cheeks.

Once you’re dressed, the urgency hits you again. You’re running late, and the panic sets in like a wave. You grab your bag and rush around the room, tossing items into it without thinking—until you remember.

“Oh shoot! Riki!” You scramble for your phone, your fingers fumbling as you finally find him on the bed. You look at his screen, blinking. Wait. Is he still charging?

But before you can get the chance to plug him in, Riki’s voice cracks again, a little louder this time, and it’s so faint you barely catch it. “You’re really going to leave me like this...?” he asks, almost accusing.

You freeze, your guilt swelling as you gaze at him, knowing that if you didn’t charge him now, he’d be completely dead by the time you get back. With a deep breath, you plug him in quickly, hoping the connection will last until you return.

But the weird thing is, for the first time, you realize that in a twisted way—this phone might actually be the one who understands you better than anyone else.

You’re practically panting by the time you get to school, the weight of your backpack pressing down on you with every step. Your stomach growls in protest, reminding you that in your mad rush, you forgot your tiffin at home. Great. Just great.

But the real problem is the five marks. The professor’s new rule is burning a hole in your mind: Whoever comes late will have five marks deducted. It's just five marks, but it might as well be the difference between life and death. Okay, maybe not life or death, but definitely failure.

You’re barely scraping by in math, and losing even those five marks would push you into the dreaded abyss of failure. You can already feel the weight of your mother’s disapproval on your shoulders, and you really don’t want that. Not today. Not ever.

Your school isn’t far—just a fifteen-minute walk—but with the panic setting in, your legs are moving faster than your brain. Walking = fine. Running = late. You’d prefer to walk but today, you’re in run mode, your heart hammering against your chest, your breath coming in quick, sharp gasps.

“Who even made schools?” you mutter under your breath, sweat trickling down your neck. You can already feel your body protesting against the injustice of it all. As if it weren't bad enough, your backpack feels like a weight you’re carrying to the moon.

You round the corner, spotting a few other late students sneaking in, looking as panicked as you feel. The guard is too busy talking to someone else to notice, and you take full advantage of it, slipping through the gate like a ninja trained by your mother herself. You’ve gotten really good at this.

When you reach the classroom, relief floods over you. The professor isn’t there yet. Thank goodness. You rush to the nearest available seat—right next to Jungwon. It's the only one left, and you’re not about to argue. You plop down with a loud sigh, feeling the adrenaline start to wear off, leaving you a little breathless.

But then Jungwon turns to you, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Does your boyfriend not come to our school?”

You blink. Boyfriend? Who—what?

“I have a boyfriend?” You ask, clearly puzzled, still catching your breath.

“Uh… the one I met last night when you were throwing trash…” he adds, trailing off awkwardly, clearly unsure of himself now. “Is he not your boyfriend?”

Your stomach flips. Oh, God. This is it. Your brain starts spinning, and suddenly your mouth feels dry. You can’t go back on yesterday's statement. You definitely can’t let Jungwon go back to your mom and casually mention you have a boyfriend. That would end with your mother’s legendary interrogation skills being put into full force, and you’re not sure you’d survive it.

You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.

OPTION (A) : You could admit Riki isn’t your boyfriend, but that would open a whole new can of worms, and you can already hear Jungwon’s voice in your head: “Wait, so who was that guy?” Not a conversation you want to have.

OPTION (B) : You could tell him that Riki is just a friend, but that might lead to even more awkward questions, and you have no idea how you’d explain that whole situation without sounding like you’re caught in a web of lies.

But before you can choose, the door creaks open, and the professor walks in, immediately starting the lesson. You have no choice but to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Yes, he’s my boyfriend.” The words come out, and you instantly regret them. You can practically hear the sound of your own gulp echoing in your ears. Jungwon, looking slightly taken aback, awkwardly nods, unsure of how to respond. He’s clearly not going to ask more questions—at least not here—and his attention turns back to the professor.

You breathe a sigh of relief, but the panic is still bubbling inside you. You’ve just added another layer of complication to your already messy life. Now, you’re officially that girl—the one with a mysterious, possibly nonexistent boyfriend who has a habit of turning into a human phone. What could go wrong?

You sneak a glance down at your phone, trying to be as discreet as possible. Back in the day, you would’ve been nervously fidgeting in your seat next to Jungwon, trying not to spill your awkwardness all over the place. But right now? You couldn’t care less about Jungwon. All you could think about was that handsome guy who had somehow turned into your phone.

Why are you so cute, Riki?

You tap your phone screen, waiting for it to light up, but nothing happens. You try again, your frustration building. Come on... please respond. This is getting ridiculous.

“Hey, Riki! Respond, please!” you whisper under your breath, glancing around quickly to make sure no one else is noticing your little outburst. Jungwon, who’s sitting right next to you, doesn’t seem to catch on. He’s too busy, probably thinking about his own thoughts. You, on the other hand, are glued to your phone, silently begging for Riki to do anything.

But no, nothing happens. It's like he's just… ignoring you. And that drives you crazy. Why isn't he responding? Was it because you're sitting next to Jungwon? Did he suddenly become jealous?

The thought of Riki acting all possessive, even from within your phone, actually makes you giggle. But your giggles quickly turn into frustration again as your screen stays blank.

So, you do what anyone would do in this situation: you bury yourself in your notes, hoping that focusing on your studies will distract you from the fact that Riki, your human-turned-phone boyfriend, is giving you the silent treatment. You're still a bit puzzled by the whole situation.

Finally when classes end, and your backpack feels impossibly heavy as you hurriedly shove your books inside. You’re already planning your escape when Jungwon calls out to you.

“Hey Y/n, would you be up for a study session? You can bring your boyfriend too…” His words trail off, clearly surprised by how quickly you’re moving to leave.

Your reaction is instantaneous: you bolt out of there like you’ve just been given an Olympic sprinting challenge, the door swinging behind you with a dramatic swoosh. You don’t even wait for a reply, practically disappearing from his sight.

Jungwon, stunned, blinks a couple of times before finally muttering, “What… just happened?”

“Must be her boyfriend,” Eunmi remarks, her voice strangely neutral instead of the usual sharp tone she reserves for anything remotely related to you. She looks over at Jungwon, her gaze lingering for a moment, before turning her attention elsewhere. Jungwon, though, is far less enthusiastic about packing his bag now, his thoughts clearly on something else.

Meanwhile, you can’t help but laugh a little as you make your way out of the building. There’s no way you were going to let Riki’s weird silence ruin your day. Besides, you’d figured it out—he's just being a dramatic phone, and you’re not about to let that control you. At least, not for now.

As you leave, you can’t stop thinking about how ridiculously possessive he’s been lately. Maybe he does feel something. You can’t help but smile, a little too fond of your human-turned-phone.

As soon as you get home, you plug Riki in, sighing in relief as the charging icon pops up on your screen. You can hear your mom in the background, rambling about your day at school, but honestly? You don’t have the energy to care. You flop onto your bed, completely drained, and let out a deep breath as you watch Riki slowly transform back into a human.

“Thank goodness,” you mutter, finally feeling a little more at ease.

“You should've just charged me in the morning,” he grumbles, still holding the charging wire in his mouth. It's almost comical how he’s still acting like a phone despite being human now.

“Sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, a small smile creeping onto your face despite how tired you are. But then, as the moment settles, a thought hits you, and you can't help but ask, “Do you ever think you'll go back to being a normal phone? Or am I stuck with you like this forever?”

Riki hums in response, the charging wire still hanging from his mouth. “Not sure.”

“Of course you're not sure,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. But a tiny knot of worry tightens in your stomach. The idea of him eventually disappearing back into your phone, of him going back to being just an object, stings more than you'd like to admit. He might be your phone, but the human version? He's been becoming something else to you lately. And you don’t know if you're ready to lose that just yet.

Two months had passed, and it was starting to feel like Riki was slowly slipping away. At first, it was subtle—just a few hours of the day where he stayed in phone form. But today? Nothing. No human version of Riki, just your regular, lifeless phone.

You poke at your lunch with a fork, but how could you even eat when your mind keeps wandering back to your phone? It’s just sitting there on the table, performing like a regular device, no magic, no human form.

“Is something wrong?” Jungwon asks, glancing up from his own lunch. Eunmi’s sitting across from you, not even trying to be friendly, as usual.

“You should watch your phone less,” Eunmi comments, and you roll your eyes, trying to ignore her. If only she knew how much your phone meant to you right now.

You swipe left and right, desperately trying to find something—anything—that could explain why Riki’s still not turning human. You’re not sure what you’re expecting, but this feels like some sort of betrayal from a phone.

“Hmmph,” you mutter under your breath, but it doesn't help. The weight of Eunmi’s voice still lingers in your mind, but you’re too focused on the empty feeling of staring at a screen that’s supposed to be connected to something more.

“Why is he not becoming a human?” you mumble, too frustrated to care that you’re speaking aloud. The problem? Only you know about Riki’s transformation, so you can’t even vent about it to anyone.

“What?” Eunmi asks, her eyebrow arching as she shares a confused look with Jungwon.

You wave it off, brushing away the awkwardness, and go back to stabbing at your lunch. But it’s no use—the food tastes bland, almost like cardboard. Honestly, at this point, the only thing that could make it better is if Riki turned back into the human version of himself and saved you from this mess of a lunch. But nope, your phone’s just sitting there, mocking you.

You somehow manage to finish the rest of the school day, the classes dragging by like a blur, but the one thing that kept bothering you was that Riki was still not turning human.

“Ugh, this isn’t working,” you mutter to yourself as you stand in front of the repair shop owner, trying not to look too ridiculous. You can already feel the weight of the situation—the shopkeeper can’t possibly know about your phone turning into a human, can he? That would be absurd.

“What exactly is the problem?” he asks, tilting his head as he takes your phone to inspect it.

You freeze. What exactly do you say? You can’t tell him that your phone is a person who’s been hanging out as a human every now and then, right? It sounds insane.

“Uh…,” you stammer, struggling for an explanation, but it’s useless. You’re not sure what to say that wouldn’t get you committed to some strange techy cult or a mental hospital.

“It’s all good, ma’am,” he says with a sigh, handing your phone back to you, like everything is totally normal. But if everything is “all good,” why isn’t Riki turning back into a human?

You leave the store, confusion taking over. The lighthearted, slightly strange feeling you once had about Riki being a human version of a phone has now been replaced with a gnawing emptiness. You can’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, he’s gone for good.

Your bag feels heavier than usual, weighed down by the thoughts swirling in your mind. You drag yourself home, the steps feeling longer than normal, as if the world is slowly sinking into a gray, monotonous fog.

“How was school?” your stepdad asks, the usual cheerful tone in his voice, but you can’t bring yourself to answer. You barely acknowledge his question, as you’re still lost in your own thoughts. You hear your mom sigh, disappointed, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You head straight to your room, exhaustion taking over. You plug Riki in to charge, desperate to see that familiar human version of him again. The seconds tick by as you watch the charging light glow. But nothing changes. The charging is full. Riki is still… just a phone.

You sigh heavily, sinking down on your bed. What if he’s really gone for good? You can't help but feel like you're losing a part of your world, and suddenly, the idea of just using a regular phone feels... boring.

Tears well up in your eyes as you stubbornly mutter, “I won’t talk to you ever if you don't turn in now!” The words feel hollow the second they leave your lips, but it’s a lie you tell yourself. You would never stop talking to Riki, not for anything. But a small part of you is desperate for him to just... come back. You need to see him as a human again, even if you know that it might not happen.

“Please!” you whisper desperately, pressing your lips against the cold screen of your phone, leaving a red imprint there. It’s a pathetic gesture, but it’s all you can think of. A little kiss for him, as if that might somehow wake him up from whatever spell he’s trapped in.

“Fine. Don’t come,” you mutter, frustration taking over as you place the phone back on the study desk. The weight of the situation settles in as you slump down onto the bed, still in your school clothes. You don’t even care to change—you're too tired, too emotionally drained from everything.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been lying there, staring at the ceiling, but it doesn’t matter. Sleep overtakes you, and you drift off in the quiet of your room, lost in the silence.

Suddenly, you feel it—the presence of someone standing above you. A familiar weight in the air, but not the same as before. You rub your eyes, blinking away the grogginess, and then you see him.

Riki.

He’s standing there, in front of you, and your breath catches. But then, your eyes widen in shock. His body is covered in marks. Red, faint imprints that make your face burn as you realize—those are from your kisses. The ones you left on the screen, desperate for him to turn back. It’s embarrassing, but there's no time for that now. You throw yourself at him, arms wide as you practically tackle him with a hug.

His shirt wrinkles beneath your fingers as you clutch it tight, a mixture of relief and frustration in your chest. You pull away, looking up at him, almost desperate. “Why did you leave? Why didn’t you turn back?” Your voice cracks, the raw emotion flooding through you, but the words tumble out in a mess of desperation.

But then, he pushes you away. You stumble back slightly, the sudden distance between you too much to handle.

“I couldn’t turn,” he says, his voice low, almost pained. “And I think it’s better if you don’t get too attached. I’m just a device, remember?” He speaks the words softly, but there’s a coolness to them that hurts.

You blink, the words settling into your chest like a stone. “Why can’t you stay like this forever?” The question slips out before you can stop it, eyes burning with the need to understand. You feel his thumb brush away a tear that’s escaped down your cheek, but it only makes you feel more fragile. “I don’t understand… How can a phone... with no feelings... like me... feel something?”

He takes a deep breath, his gaze softening for just a moment. And then, for the first time since this entire weird and wonderful thing began, he steps closer. Your heart races as he closes the distance, and before you can even think, your hands are on his shirt, clutching it like it’s the only thing that’s keeping you grounded.

You pull him into a messy kiss, lips moving against his in a rush of desperation, a wild need to feel him close. You kiss him over and over again, each one more frantic than the last, but just as quickly as he was there...

Your lips meet nothing.

You pull back in confusion, eyes wide as you try to make sense of it. Where did he go? You open your eyes fully, but there's nothing in front of you. Just empty space.

Your phone falls to the ground, the sharp sound of it hitting the floor snapping you back to reality. You kneel down quickly, heart pounding, and check it, relieved to see that it's still in one piece. No cracks, no breaks. Just a phone.

And then, it hits you.

You can’t keep holding on to something—or someone—that isn’t real. You swallow hard, tears welling up in your eyes again as you stare at the device in your hands, the phone that was once a person to you. The bittersweet smile on your lips isn’t one of happiness, but of acceptance and yet... sadness.

“Fine,” you whisper to no one in particular. “I’ll check off the three tasks on my to-do list. You’ll be proud of me.”

But as you stare at the phone, your thumb grazing over its screen, you know deep down that it’s not the tasks that need to be checked off.

It’s your heart.

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[joonsytip]

Only for Love || Mingyu [Teaser]

Pairings: Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Husband!Mingyu, Cold Wife!Reader, Arranged Marriage au, Contract Marriage au, Divorce au

Synopsis: When an accidental discovery has your perception of happy married life crumbling down, you do what you think is the best for everyone involved. Naturally, your opinion of the best doesn't cater to your husband's. So what happens when things spiral out due to unforeseen events?

Warnings: Reader is cold but also shy, Mingyu is gullible and impulsive, lack of communication, misunderstanding, miscommunication, reader is objectified once, hurt, crying, profanities, mentions of divorce, sexual intimacy, mentions of pregnancy, rest will be specified under the part when published

Main story out now checkout here!

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

"Let's get divorced."

When Mingyu came home late at night to see you awake and waiting for him, there was an uncanny feeling that settled within.

Your hands are crossed, face void of any expression. If not for your next words, Mingyu would think he's hallucinating.

"We can decide on the terms and clauses, all as per your convenience.", you stress, "I do not expect any trouble from your side."

Mingyu finally registers everything you have said till now and everything hits him all at once.

"W-What are you talking about? Why do you want a divorce all of a sudden?"

Your monotonous tone rather asks him another question, "We have been married for over two years, nearing it's third anniversary. Do you want to be tied in this marriage?"

Though Mingyu thinks he doesn't know you well enough but he knows you enough to catch the wind of your words.

His gaze turns towards his office room and his suspicion confirms to be correct when he sees the door opened ajar.

"Why did you enter my office? I had clearly warned you about not doing so.", he says in a strict voice.

"That doesn't answer my question.", you say getting up, "Anyways it doesn't matter anymore, I want you to move out of our shared bedroom right now and shift to the guest room. I'll get a lawyer, you get one too and proceed with the divorce."

As you turn back, you feel your husband's hand wrap around yours.

"How are you so calm? Why are you not asking me anything? Do I really mean nothing to you?", you hear a string of questions falling out of his lips, "We are married for almost three years now and your cool headedness after, I'm assuming, knowing everything makes me aware of the fact that I really don't know you."

You jerk your hand out of his grip and turn back to look at him, "And how is that my fault? Maybe you've never tried to know me.", your voice drops another octave, "You can stop with the doting husband act, now that I know the truth."

Mingyu doesn't miss the way your eyes show vulnerability for a moment. Your words strike a chord within him.

"I'll sleep in the guest room.", Mingyu says in defeat, "And we're gonna talk it out tomorrow morning.", he sounds sincere when he says, "I'm sorry. I hope you'll give me a chance to explain everything."

But little does he know, you've already closed the room for any diversions, that you've decided to part ways with the person who has betrayed your trust.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Handle With Care 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your work blurs the lines between professional and personal.

Note: I’m on a Bucky kick and can’t stop myself.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Bucky sighs and shifts in the seat, trying to see past the clog of traffic. He sits back heavily, enough to jolt the entire car. You glance at him as you steer away from the bottle neck.

"We're not going in the front, are we?" He smooths his hair and furrows his brow.

"Not unless you want cameras in your face," you pull into an underground lot and roll down your window to swipe your card in the fee machine.

"Mm, exactly my point," he brushes his palms over his stubble. You can hear the bristle.

"Look, we're both just trying to get through this. For Wilson." You slowly roll through and look for a spot.

"He doesn't need me--"

"Stop saying that," you snip. "You wouldn't be here if that was true. I didn't exactly wake up thinking I'd be crawling through your window."

"No one asked you to."

You veer into a spot and slam on the brake. "Actually, Barnes, he asked me to. That's why I did it, so let's cut the lone wolf schtick and grind our teeth through the pomp and ceremony."

He grumbles. You shift into park and kill the engine. You take a deep breath and search for your zen. He's undoing a lot of self-work right now. You undo your seat belt and get out. He mirrors you with reluctance.

"We'll circle around and head in through the rear," you shut the door and stomp in your heels, clasping your bag tightly as you check the time.

"Yes, Captain," he says sardonically.

"No, he's inside, waiting," you return.

He's quiet as he follows you. You don't fail to notice the looks he gets. You can't blame him for not appreciating prying eyes. Still, it's the least he can do for Sam. Just this once.

As you get around to the back doors, past the fervour and rush of attendees, he catches up to you. There's a man in a uniform keeping watch. You wave as you approach.

"Tito," you smile.

"Huh..." he squints at you as his burly arms tense in his jacket. "Oh, it's you? I didn't recognise you in that... thing."

You glance down at your dress, "special occasion."

"Mm, right."

"Come on, Tito, I got clearance," you argue.

"No one's in the back but personnel."

"I am personnel. Didn't I disarm that bomb way back--"

"Hmmm," he looks past you at Bucky. "Hey, it's you."

Bucky growls and shuffles closer.

"Look, my friend here is having a rough day. The front is a circus, please, Ti?"

"You still owe me that drink," he nibbles his lip.

You chuckle, "I got a flask--" You show him your clutch.

He laughs. "You know what I mean."

"I told ya I would. I'm a busy gal," you fend him off. "So, pretty please, Tito?"

He rolls his eyes and reaches for his belt. He scans his card and opens the door. You wobble through hurriedly and Bucky drags his feet. He follows you down the hall.

"You know a lot of people," he mutters.

"Some. My work takes me all around. Just like yours."

"Sure," he sniffs.

You slow as you hear noise. You'd rather not make a whole round of small talk. You grab Bucky's sleeve and drag him down a long hall.

"Where are we going?"

"Stage door. We can sneak down the stairs," you explain.

"Won't someone be watching?"

"Sure, and I'll get us through," you assure him. "Just like I've done everything else."

He sucks his teeth, "you're mad."

"I'm not mad, Barnes," you let him go. "Trust me, you would know if I was."

You meet another guard along the way. She stops you and asks for credentials. As you try to search out a suitable way past, she looks past you.

"Wait, oh, I know you," she points at Bucky, "no problem, go right through."

"Know me?" Bucky utters.

"The Winter Soldier," she bubbles. "Sure thing. Go on. Say hi to Cap for me."

He moves stiffly ahead of you and you follow. His metal fingers fidget at his side. You can tell he's uncomfortable. Hell, you are too.

You come out through the stage door and quickly snake around the distracted honorees and presenters, the crew scurrying around like ants in a hill. You get Bucky down the stairs and find the seats reserved for you. 'Guest of S. Wilson.' You sit and he does too.

He sets his feet wide and rests his hands on his thighs. His fingers rub up and down the fabric restlessly. You put your phone on silent and put it in your clutch. You wiggle in the stiff seat and crane to see the doors as guests slowly trickle in.

You peek at Bucky. His jaw is squared, his eyes are unfocused, he stares at the curtains over the stage. You know it's a lot for him. You realise that he's not doing this on purpose.

People line the seats behind you and around you. Their voices break the tenuous calm. You greet a few that are familiar but otherwise bide your time.

When at last the ceremony begins and the lights dim for the brighter ones over the stage, Bucky coughs and you can feel him jittering. His leg is bouncing and he's picking at the edge of his jacket. The host goes through their whole intro as his fidgeting intensifies. The sudden blast of horns makes him jump.

You reach over and put your hand on his. He locks up and squeezes your fingers, so tight he might crack your knuckles. You lean against him gently.

"Barnes, you're doing good," you say.

He doesn't respond. You don't expect him to. He's entirely still. You know he's not there anymore. You bring your other hand over his and rub his knuckles. You'll get him through this just like Lagos.

[kaiaelsher]

—color theory.

Summary: Surely the marks he's left all over your body, especially on your neck that is unable to be covered by your oh-so-charismatic Hunter Unform aren't going to disappear out of shame to follow common public decency by itself, so of course Rafayel is going to help.

Contains: rafayel/reader, grammatical errors, fluff, estabilished relationship(?), clingy and down-bad rafayel, but you're just as down bad as he is, suggestiveness (they were having it the night before), but nothing more, and ... self-insert?

Notes: i'm doing this because a scenario suddenly popped into my head so ... here's a kinda short fic? I guess?

Last night was the night.

It was when you truly feel like you've became one with Rafayel.

It doesn't mean like you feel disconnected from him before, but like two strings that was twisting around each other for what felt like an endless amount of time - the ends of the string finally tied together last night, bond that cannot be changed is no longer one-sided. That's how you feel, and you know for real that the Lemurian who is now half-sulking before you felt similiar.

"Should you really go today?" you can see how his straight pretty eyebrows - one of your most favorite features of him, by the way - is knitted together as his lips formed a thin pout. You are now sitting on the couch, hands working to button up your hunter uniform as you stared at the man before you fondly.

"I'll return here after work instead of my apartment," you offered consolation, and Rafayel crossed his arms.

Honestly, if it wasn't for Captain Jenna's urging for you to come, you maybe would have give in and said you were sick just to tangle with him within any area in this place, but unfortunately, the matter about aether core is not going to solve itself if there is no helping hand.

"It would be very mean of you if you don't after what we did last night," he replied, as sassy as he always have. If only you aren't feeling so loving towards him right now, you probably would reply with a sassy remark as well until he's left with silence filling his vocabulary, he took a peek of you through the corner of his eye, halfly mumbling, "of course you have to come back here."

God, you feel so cheesy, you know it, and maybe both your future and past self would immediately be cringed by how you acted as you smiled wider, barely holding back giggles, you acted like you are the side character from a rom-com drama who would worship the ground their partner walk on with all sorts of disgustingly cheesy words written all over your script for the sake of comedic relief, making the main characters be disgusted by how cheesy you are.

"Right, of course," you nodded, "I'll make sure to come back home as soon as my shift ends."

Home.

Just you so casually calling this place; in which he resides 'home' is enough to turn his mind into mush, Rafayel almost cursed himself through his breaths for being so easy for you, but at the end, it was and it has always been you, the girl who would recklessly stab then slice open her own chest to hand him her own heart if he says he wanted it.

He watched as you strode over the near-by vanity, sat yourself on it and grab a concealer, ready to dab them over the reddening small little circles on your neck - marks he's left all over you in exchange of how you have marked his very soul. Before his mind could muster up things, Rafayel immediately walked to your direction, his hand holding yours in place.

".... Rafayel?" you called out of confusement.

Does he want you to just walk around with these marks in your neck that screamed 'I just had a mind-blowing sex!' to everyone with eyes? You guessed.

Well, you considered it once more, it might be kind of embarrassing, but if Rafayel wants that to make people understand that you have someone (who is none other than him), then who are you to refus-

"Only concealer is not enough to cover that," he spoke, interrupting your mind, "you need a color corrector first."

-oh.

You cleared your throat and nodded in acknowledgement as you watch him walk over to some shelves.

Damn it. You feel so embarrassed with the way you're thinking things right now that you wish you could just smash your face to the mirror infront of you - at least the blood that would seep out through the glass' pierces would cover how you are blushing- are you blushing right now? Well, you don't know, you don't dare looking at the mirror after the embarrassment you brought upon yourself, you chose that you'd rather have your eyes locked onto Rafayel's direction.

Rafayel finally returned to your side with a green color corrector with its applicator in his hand, he lowered his posture to be face-to-face with your neck, and you yourself could feel the back ache he might be feeling after that. So this time it's your turn to wrap your hand around his wrist - holding his hand in place.

"Isn't it too uncomfortable in this kind of position?" you said in genuine concern, eyes meeting his, then it traveled to his back with the help of your tilted head, "your back might get hurt."

Rafayel almost feel offended. Hello? Do you somehow see him as an old geezer who can't even manage to bend just for a little amount of time? Do you forget how did he take you just last night? The man almost opened his mouth, but soon, upon realization of what kind of advantage could he take from this pure concern of yours, he feel a tug on the corner of his mouth, but he tried to resist.

"Hmm, you're right," he straight up his posture once more, his hand, that is currently holding applicator, touched his chin, displaying a fake consideration of situations. He furrowed his eyebrows, before then glancing at you with a new gleam in his eyes. "Then ..."

You were pulled up to stand from your seat before he sat himself on the plush of seat that was yours, then, you felt the familiar hands of his - but also the feel of product's packaging since he hasn't put them down on the table - on either side of your waist, lifting you (just to show how strong he is) and place you on his laps.

He looked up at you with mischievous glint in his eyes, juxtaposing the surprise in yours. Your hands reflexively placed on his shoulders.

"... this should be better, yeah?" the yeah came out in throaty whisper. "By the way, thanks for your very caring nature towards a very weak creature like I am, Miss Bodyguard."

".... I take it back," you said, expression changing. And Rafayel only chuckled.

"Uh oh," the man shook his head, "once someone have given me something, I won't let them take it back, and it also apply to you, don't think I would exclude you in any of my petty self-law just because I love you, cutie."

You scowled, but everyone in this room definitely know that the disdain you've been displaying since seconds ago were nothing but a mere pretense, you barely manage to conceal how much you actually like this situation, shown by how your hand now started to rub itself against his face, and Rafayel, as usual, tilted his head to follow your hand's direction, you know he knows.

You tilted up your head slightly the moment he started to apply the light shade of green- tea green? (you don't know colors' names, you'll start asking Rafayel later on) To spots on your neck attentively, luckily enough, your gaze still managed to find him through the lower corner of your eyes, from this angle, you realize how beautiful his lashes were. You've long known how fluffy his hair is, but your hand moved to touch it again to find out.

"Green cancels out red," he explained, "if you wanted to apply concealer on reddish marks like these next time, make sure to apply tea green color corrector first."

"Okay," you replied, "that means you'll leave reddish marks on me again next time, right?"

Rafayel blushed, and he cleared his throat.

"Pay attention," he warned.

"I am," paying attention to the blush on your ears, to the beautiful curl of your lashes, and to the beautiful tiny sways of your hair, you continued inwardly.

Gods, how you wished you could just stay like this forever until your bones might not recognize any positions beside when you're sitting on his laps.

[etherealily]

art // f.odair

My other Finnick fics, if you have the time.

Part 1 : Guilt Part 3 : Bets

[2/3] Long.

Finnick Odair + fem!reader. Warnings : Cuss words, SFW but discretion advised, mature themes, hurt/comfort

Desc. : The trauma card.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

═════════════════════ ⋆🎯⋆ ══════════════════

SIX WEEKS LATER

Finnick doesn't know when it happened.

His plan had been to basically only shift Snow's focus from his family to you. You, a random stranger he could have zero ties to and could afford to lose if times got tough.

But now? His focus had been shifted from survival to you.

He finds himself mulling about, wallowing in too much sorrow to have been unnoticeable.

He didn't need this. He was already dealing with his own problems.

Thankfully, you didn't seem to have taken the ordeal during the Games too seriously, and now he was back to having only an endless string of Capitol assholes in his bed every other week.

Thankfully, because he had no idea what the hell he'd do if you actually ended up getting attached, or looking to him as some sort of protection, or actually caring or loving him - his heart couldn't take that. His conscience couldn't take that.

Or maybe, he had it all wrong.

Maybe you weren't distancing yourself because you didn't give a shit about him.

Maybe his well-being had nothing to do with this.

Maybe you were distancing yourself because you hated that Faye had died.

Right. Made more sense. What a narcissist he is.

Worst part of all this, as mentioned, was that he was actually starting to give a shit. A thing, he'd been told, he did far too often.

In the week you'd spent at the Capitol with him, he'd grown to like far too much about you.

You cared about Faye? He liked that, a lot.

You got really worried every time he came back from 'filming promos' with bruises? He liked the way you tried helping the only way you could. Which was, apparently, trying to take his mind off of it by regaling him with the mundanities of a day in your life back in Four.

But what he especially liked was that you didn't absolutely lose your shit in laughter when he held your hand in his sleep. He figured you'd pull away. He figured you'd snort and call him a baby.

But you didn't.

You didn't just let him, you allowed him, which, in honesty, only Finnick knew best how different those two were.

And he loved you all the more for it.

Liked. He liked you all the more for it.

"Hey.", he says, looking up from his rope to you.

He loves when he gets to come back to Four, but what he loves most is when he gets to come back to you.

Because you understood. You didn't understand the full extent of what he went through at the Capitol, but you'd spent enough time there to know that it wasn't really a place you could miss.

"Hi, Finnick.", you reply, sitting by him. "You don't get rope burn?"

"I do. But check this out.", he boasts, baring his calloused, red palms to you. "Scars of a warrior. And...", he begins, tugging on the ends of the knot and tightening it, "...knot of a warrior. It's impossible to undo. Try, c'mon."

"I'll take your word for it."

He shrugs, gently tossing the rope down and listening to the soft shift of sand to make space for it. See, he'd always loved this about sand. Always, always made space for anything. No matter how pathetic. How broken. How sinful.

"I was thinking."

You look up from the rope on the sand beside your feet up to his eyes. "Mhm?"

"Maybe... y'know, only if you're interested... I mean, I'll teach you how to take photos.", he says, coolly, his dimpled grin coming in to save the day, his sea-green eyes running over your face desperately, and his sun-touched hair being moved by the wind and placed elegantly in front of those very eyes.

"With your camera?"

"What else?"

"I just... you're really protective over it."

"No, I'm not."

"You slept hugging it."

"Well, yeah, 'cause you were in the Viewing Room, and I-"

He decides it's best to shut up then.

"I'm not protective over my camera. Do you wanna learn or not?"

"Sure."

═════════════════════ ⋆🎯⋆ ══════════════════

That night sees him leaning back on the couch, welling up with tears of laughter as you struggled to hold the fucking thing properly. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!", he yells between laughs as he sees you pissed and threatening to smash the camera.

"How hard is it? C'mon, cradle the camera with your left, Y/N. Cradle, like a baby!"

"That's not how I would hold a baby!"

"How would you hold a baby?"

You demonstrate what you'd done when you'd had to babysit, and he bursts out into further hysterics, placing his glass of whiskey down as you pick up yours to take an irritated sip.

"That's very motherly, but it's not going to get you any photos."

"Well, fuck photos then!"

He raises a brow, watching as you come sit by him, placing his chin in your shoulder and looking down with you at the camera in your lap. "You sure? Don't you want to make art?", he asks, a wisp of wonder in his tone.

"Fuck art."

"Fucking can be art."

"Sex is not art, okay?!"

Who the hell were you trying to convince? Finnick 'Capitol Whore' Odair?

"What is it then?"

"I dunno, like, a way to have a baby?"

"Really? So that's the only reason you'd have sex? It's a means to reproduce?"

See in theory, yes, you knew that it wasn't, but you had never thought of any other purpose for it. Because when push came to shove, even if you were in District 4, the possibility of mortality hang over all your heads everyday. Not really top priority to think of fucking.

"Well, yeah! Why else would you? You need to keep population up or the Peacekeepers-"

He nods, closing his eyes as though he finally understood why you said what you said. "Ah. You're thinking of Panem."

"Don't we live here?"

"They don't do population checks."

"But I heard-"

"I know what you heard. Trust me, your service is not required. Other districts are doing a good enough job keeping the remains of humanity booming in number."

You sigh. You're not getting out of this until he's changed your take on sex, that's clear.

"You can't possibly think sex is only for giving birth."

"Finnick, stop."

"No, seriously. Imagine a canvas, right?"

"Okay."

"Paintbrushes. A curve of paint, a flick of your wrist, a deep stroke across the canvas."

"Mhm."

His voice drops to a barely audible whisper and it makes your toes curl. In a very good way. "Now", he breathes, "Imagine the canvas is skin."

That pretty much did it for you. He achieved it.

"Finnick."

He hums, almost laughing, but not quite. "Just listen. Eyes closed."

You obey, because when Finnick Odair asks you to listen to him verbally fuck you, you do.

═════════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════════════════

Yep. Sex is art.

And you were covered filthy with his words.

But to his credit, yes, they did help you take good pictures.

They also made you wonder why the hell someone who described sex so intimately and preciously would fuck everything with a pulse in the Capitol.

He frowns from the bed, where he sits shirtless with his arm on his knee, posing for you. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Okay, so, me."

Fuck.

"That's what's blocking your art, so just get it out. Ask me whatever."

"Okay, how many times a week do you have sex?", you scoff. Should serve him right for asking you to ask him a-

"Five."

"Five? FIVE?"

"Well, I mean.... technically zero." He tenses up.

"What? Wait, that doesn't make sense."

"Look, sex and fucking are different! Sex is more intimate! Okay, look, I just think if you don't see the art and the beauty in everything we do, then it's just... life becomes mundane! Painful, even."

"Yeah. Yeah. Okay."

He's about to riot. Why weren't you pushing?

"Seriously. I just can't... I can't be without assuming everything happens to eventually become art. It hurts if I don't."

You nod and he breaks. Boundaries are only required when he wants them to be. And right now, he's in the mood to spill his brains to you. He's in the mood to bare his soul to you.

"Uh... you know, uh, we should go back to-"

"NO, Y/N. Listen!", he pleads. He doesn't want your usually welcome distractions - not now - and he doesn't want a palate cleanser. He wants you, he realizes, horrifyingly.

"What?"

"I don't... I've never had sex. But I've fucked. You know what I mean?"

You... kind of seem to, but he's not sure. You look like you're treading ice, walking on eggshells around him, which he doesn't blame you for. He hasn't forgotten his outburst the first night you'd met.

"So... you get it?"

You shake your head, and he's mildly relieved. Good. You didn't get it. He'd spoken without thinking, and he didn't want to make himself filthy in your eyes. Not that he was some angel now, either - he saw the way you still looked at him. Sellout, your gaze scolded him.

"It's okay. I didn't really expect you to."

"Why not?"

He inhales and shakes his head, shrugging. "Context? Or, rather, lack thereof."

"I mean, why would you fuck people you didn't want to be intimate with?"

He's aware that the laugh that follows is only exacerbating your confusion, but you'd genuinely, genuinely, amused him. Because you were basically him before the Capitol. Wide-eyed, not entirely innocent, but definitely not well-versed with the world.

You were him and yet also the polar opposite.

Patting the spot on the bed next to him after shifting a couple of roses away, Finnick watches as you tentatively place the camera down safely first before sitting next to it. Fuck.

"Are you confused?"

You look up at him totally normally, unsuspecting, and trusting, worst of all, and he swears he's about to kill himself.

"What?"

"Are you confused?"

"Yeah, like, I don't know what this button does-"

"No, no, I mean... about what I said."

You pause. Yes. "I mean, slightly, but you don't have to talk if you don't want to."

"Do you want to hear it?"

You frown, and he tsks in urgency, his hands on your shoulders. "Do you want to hear it?"

You nod vehemently and he lets go.

═════════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════════════════

You're pretty sure it's three am by the time he's asleep. And it's in your arms. Tell twelve year old you that. She'd riot. She'd scream.

Finnick Odair's just bared his soul to you and now, he was utterly vulnerable.

You can't really fall asleep, not after that. Not after knowing that the lanky fourteen year old you'd hero-worshipped on TV when you were eleven had been forced into a room with a Capitol pervert two days later.

You look down. He's twenty-one. He's been doing this shit for seven years. Three years short of a decade. You look back up, at the wall in front of you, and although you can't help it, you get visions. Your mind conjures up its own versions of what happened to him, and you pull him just that much closer.

And that was impossible. Because he's only a couple rules-of-physics away from genuinely melting into you. He no longer seems to feel the need to hold your fingers, and instead, has wrapped himself around your torso and plans to stay there.

Fine by you.

You rest your head back against the headboard. He'd seemed to have struggled, opening up. He'd seemed to not know what to say at all and simultaneously not know where to start first.

You look down again, searching for the ocean in his eyes. Not there. Good, he's still asleep. You don't even feel the regret that you're supposed to feel for judging him, for insinuating that he slept around simply because he could. You can't feel that regret, not when so much anger overtook you.

The gold of his hair spews out from between your fingers, and you find yourself moving your fingers lower, down to the curve of his forehead, the dip of his nose, the plush of his lips, the turn of his jawline.

Beauty is rewarding to everyone else but its owner.

Your thumb rubs over his cheek and you sigh.

It all seems to make sense now, honestly. Why he chose someone from his District to photograph instead of from the Capitol. Why he hasn't been a complete asshole to you.

The white roses in every photo. You'd seen Snow wearing them before.

═════════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════════════════

Finnick wakes up much earlier than he usually does when he's at the Capitol, but then again, he preferred to relish every moment he could spend back in the District.

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is your hand.

He'd ended up sleeping in your arms, and you, being utterly, stupidly considerate, hadn't moved an inch.

He gently pries himself away from your arms, attempting to move your head down to the pillow instead of the neck-sprain-inducing position you'd assumed on the headboard. You seem more comfortable on the pillow.

His pillow, his mind notes, though he has no idea why.

The morning air outside beckons him to move closer to the sea. No one, not even Snow himself could stop him from this call.

He quickly freshens up, brushes, washes his face and then he practically soars out to the sea.

The water engulfs him, but it feels more like an embrace. An embrace that, not an hour ago, you'd had him in. He momentarily, terrifyingly considers basking in it for eternity. Letting the water hug him into oblivion. But no. His family's out there. You're out there.

He smooths his hair out, and squints out into the horizon. I mean, he could just go. Only if he managed to get past Panem borders, but if he did manage that? God, would he be set!

He could live out the rest of his days never having to see a rose again.

He could live out the rest of his days painting, photographing, he could maybe even build a boat.

He doesn't know how to build a boat.

But that doesn't matter.

Because he could do anything he fucking wanted. For once, his life would be his.

He turns his head shorewards, expecting the sharp disappointment of being ripped away from his fantasies, but instead, he finds you there. You wave and he basically sprints underwater to reach you.

"The water's amazing, come in!"

"I can't, not this early in the morning!", you call back out.

He almost asks why, but he doesn't want to pressure you. Not everyone can comprehend the beauty of an open, vast, unforgiving and unbiased sea. One that, just like sand, doesn't discriminate in its cruelty.

He'd rather unbiased cruelty than biased adoration.

Such comprehension only stems from trauma. Trauma that he would never wish upon you. He'd never wish it upon his worst ene- no. No, no. He wishes trauma upon Snow. 100%.

"What are you doing today?!"

"I've got to buy things for my home and then I've got tutoring!"

He loves the mundanity of it all. The way you almost grumble as you say it. The way it seems like you also want to just spend the rest of the day lounging with him.

After a moment, he asks, "Can I come with?!"

You look so pleasantly surprised by that, like you think it's a joke that you haven't understood, but his expectant look finally tells you it's not.

"Why!?"

He smiles, lifting his hands up in a comically exaggerated shrug that sends water droplets flying to his sides. "'Cause I can!"

It's mildly unsettling to him how normal you're being. He's pretty sure the whiskey and the tension of last night brought to light things he'd much rather muffle into the dark, but you don't seem affected.

In fact, you seem sort of relieved. Like you've finally understood something that had been bothering you for a while.

You probably think you know exactly why he'd suddenly brought you into his life, and that's what brings him back to reality.

He's still using you. The whole thing about his trauma? Wasn't that basically to get suspicion off him? Maybe that's why he did it.

His mood now soured by his own doing, he essentially stomps out of the water and slumps next to you, trying to ignore the familiar discomfort of wet sand on his skin.

Wet sand that you pick off for him. Fuck.

You couldn't be a bitch, could you?

If you'd been a bitch, this would be so much easier.

But no. You apparently had be fucking extraordinary, didn't you?

"You're actually coming to the market?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"And then tutoring?"

"I'm older and wiser, Y/N. I could probably tutor better than you. Also, I can actually hold a camera."

"Wow, so that's how it is. Ad hominem remarks."

It's embarrassing, to say the least, that after talking such a big talk about wisdom, he doesn't know what 'ad hominem' means.

"Yeah. That's how it is." Cop-outs are always effective in such situations.

You snort, moving your foot back and forth in an arch. "Finnick?"

He hums. "Have you ever needed Tesserae? Like, before the Games."

He nods. "Yeah. Once. It was a very bad storm, so fishing wasn't really going well."

"It's funny, Faye never needed Tesserae. I mean, her family did, but obviously they didn't want it to go into her name. So she was clean. But she still... y'know."

"I want to say something about fate, but I'm not sure it applies here.", he says.

"No, it does."

"How so?"

"I've been looking at it kind of... harshly, but it helps.", you say, turning to the sea in front of you. He briefly wonders whether the orange horizon reflected in your eyes brings forth the same daydreams that he just had, in your mind.

"I just figure... it's probably written in stone that she has to participate in the Games. Maybe it was just a matter of when. Maybe this was a kindness done by God, or the universe or something. So that she had less memories, less to leave behind."

He bites the inside of his cheek. "So you're saying that she died so young because it would have been harder if she had died when she was older, with more memories with the people she loved?"

"It sounds terrible, but it was something my elementary teacher told us, when we were first taught about the Games."

He nods, trying to plead with the horizon to give him something to say.

"That was a shitty way to start the morning. Sorry.", you mutter, and he aggressively shakes his head.

"Shit's on your mind, but it doesn't have to stay there, okay?"

You nod. "How is it we're not hungover?"

He raises a brow. "Sea air. Does wonders."

"I live way too far inland, then. Should just stay in the Victor's Village forever."

"Yeah, you should. You got kids in your family?"

"Yeah, my niece and nephew, why?"

"Bring 'em all here, they can actually have a childhood with the sea thirty paces away. I'll teach them stuff. Rope tying, swimming, shit like that."

You smile softly, and it makes the sea air sweeter for him.

The words are left unsaid on both your tongues. They can have a childhood until eleven.

"I'm sure they'd love it if you could teach them."

He tries not to notice the cameras in the distance behind you, but it's really fucking hard.

"We should go."

"Why? It's nice, and I've got...", you reply, looking down at your watch, "...like, a half hour left before I need to go."

"No, let's go."

You figure that, since this wasn't a common occurrence, there was a reason for the roughness with which he led you back inside.

"You gonna tell me what that was about?", you ask as he picks out an apple from one of the adoring fruit bowls someone has sent him.

You've become bolder, grown more of a spine, but asking him this terrifies you, for some reason. Probably because you know he'll tell you the truth.

"There were cameras."

"Aren't you used to it?"

He tosses the apple up in the air and catches it before he washes it in the sink, turning to you as he takes a bite. "But are you?"

You shake your head, catching the one he washes and then throws to you the next moment.

"Exactly."

Nodding, you take a bite.

"What? What else do you have on your mind?" He reads your mind with an unsettling talent.

"What are they saying? Y'know, about us?"

"Just... you know, what you already know. That we're in love. And shit."

"You didn't want the cameras to capture the lack of love, then?"

Whoa, you were hitting hard. "Uh, no, I just thought you'd want some privacy."

"You already got me to come to the Capitol and take fake pictures to pacify Snow."

"Yeah, but-"

"So what is private about my life anymore? I didn't even know I cared so much about my privacy until it went away."

He's been there, done that.

"You're saying you want cameras on you?"

"I'm saying that from now on, they're going to be on me either way."

His chewing slows, and he nods. "Right. Sorry."

"You don't have to - you know that isn't why I said that. Don't apologise."

Alright, now he's more sure than ever that you have some skewed idea of what's going on, one that paints him as someone who accidentally got you into this mess.

Licking his lips, he moves over to place what he wants you to construe as a loving arm around the shoulder. But it's actually a guilty one. A terrified one. A fuck-if-this-goes-south-I-will-lose-her one.

He squeezes twice. "I've got you."

It's hard to say that without scoffing. He's barely got himself.

---

Finnick realizes lots of things by the end of the day.

One, if you want to go somewhere where no one cares who you are and be shoved around, it's the marketplace.

Two, you were wiser than him.

Three, your trust in him, no matter how hard you tried to hide it, was blind. Blind, and infuriatingly so.

Which is why when he finally dropped you home, you said something that, if you didn't have blind trust in him, would have immediately sent of warning bells in your head that he was an absolute asshole who was using you.

"Peacekeepers seem to have multiplied around here."

And his instinctual reply should have been enough to make you realize his entire plan and scorn him to hell.

"Yeah, they used to circle around mine more."

Yep. His plan had worked. Snow had begun to send him silent warnings that now, if he didn't do as he said, the "love of his life" would be killed.

And he didn't know if it was relief or sadism, but momentarily, he found a slight bit of joy that his family wasn't the one under more immediate threat than you.

God, he was such a bad fucking person.

"Maybe they're there to protect me.", you scoff, and he laughs, following you into your house and locking the fucking door.

"Yes, President Snow is known for his extraordinary empathy."

"Is he going to threaten to kill me if you don't... y'know?"

He nods. "Yeah, but I'm used to it. And you'll be safe, trust me."

"I don't want to if you aren't. I can't live with that knowledge.", you say, pursing your lips as you place the items on the kitchen counter.

He looks around and his environment aligns with what he expected a house with two kids to look like. "Where's everyone?"

"There's some school thing. Something to honor Faye and Kai, so my family's not here."

"You didn't go?"

"I don't know if I can.", you respond, shrugging.

He sighs, sitting on the chair while you perch up on the counter, his forearm grazing the side of your knee. "She was lovely."

You nod. "She'd have loved this."

"Loved what?"

"Busy days. She was a tiny bit weird like that. She liked having something to do, and had a whole itinerary planned."

He chuckles incredulously. "Yeah, right. She was thirteen."

"No, she came by every weekend, knocking on my door and telling me the time slots for tutoring. I'm not kidding."

"Oh my god.", he remarks, shaking his head.

"She was so neurotic, in the best way. Said she loved being able to crash into bed after being productive the whole day."

He grins. "She sounds amazing. I wish I got more time with her."

You shake your head. "Wouldn't ever be enough."

He stands, pressing his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry."

The only two words he has the right to say to you, and the two you keep rejecting, cluelessly.

"What?"

"I should've done better."

"You did the best you could. Sometimes, even District 1 Careers die."

It kills him that you think he's talking about the Games.

You look at each other for a while, and he frowns softly before his eyes move to your mouth. His lips follow soon after.

He kisses you, and then pulls away, making sure you're not absolutely repulsed, and you don't seem to be, and so he keeps going, his hands on the back of your neck, in your hair.

You're kissing back. "That's all that matters", he thinks, rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

No repulsion.

Not yet, anyway. Because right before the kiss, he'd noticed something that you hadn't, right outside, pointing straight at you.

Cameras.

God, he was such a bad. fucking. person.

[edgeray]

Unknown anon again. I'll figure an emote soon. I guess for know I'll just say uh... ??? anon.

So in the latest dragon Arlecchino fic, reader took a nasty wound yes? And well, medical supplies are hard to come by. So reader gets an infection in the wound and Arlecchino has to find a way to take care of them?

Dragon Hunter Mother Part 3

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N -  Part 1 | Part 2 Guys. It is what you have been waiting for, the long awaited part 3 of dragon! arle. Hope this doesn't disappoint! Okay, um, wow, hi ??? anon, 🏹 anon, and ©️ anon. Guys, why are 5 of the asks in my inbox dragon-related. 5 separate ppl wanted more dragons. 💀💀 are you guys starved of dragon content? is this what this is? Is this a cry for dragon content? You can tell how late this request is and I really apologize for that. 😭. What's that? More worldbuilding? Unfathomable. Hehe. Tell me what parts of worldbuilding you guys want me to specify / go into into the next part, because there definitely is going to be a part 4 at least.  Content warnings / info - follows part 2's events immediately, arle's pov for the entire time, mentions of injury, sickness, may be medically inaccurate, 3.2k words

You promptly pass out after Arlecchino came to rescue you, the two of you not even registering the intimate gesture that Arlecchino had done in the heat of the moment. 

As soon as you lose consciousness, clinging onto her form, she lays you down, checking for your injuries. Miraculously, you haven't received many injuries: just a shallow cut on your side and a deeper laceration across the length of your forearm. She tears one of your sleeves from your shirt as well as rips the bottom half of your top off to access your wounds. You’re bleeding steadily, and Arlecchino knows that stopping the bleeding is a priority. 

Stripping the apparels of one of the deceased dragon hunters, she ties around the cloth around the wound on your forearm, the one bleeding more heavily, applying pressure to it. Her clawed hands tremble slightly, careful to not nick your skin as she continues her ministrations. The cloth is darkened by the red that seeps into it, and she growls, before searching for another piece of cloth, using that to secure the bleeding. Once she deems that your bleeding is no longer a pressing issue, she carefully lifts you in her arms, traversing by foot to her cave. 

Although there is no difficulty in carrying your weight–her draconic strength still remains in her human form–the journey by foot takes several hours and she has to rely on memory for partway of the trip. It's no help she can not run or leap, not if she wants to risk jolting you awake and disturbing your wounds. Eventually, her children finds her. She instructs Lyney to burn the corpses so that there would be no traces, while Lynette is to search and retrieve your belongings. Freminet leads Arlecchino back to the cave by flying overhead.

Once Arlecchino finally returns, she immediately places you in the nest, bundling the wool mat around your body. Around the second week, you ventured into town, gathering the fleece of animals and placing it along the bed of branches and stones to ‘insulate’ it. While Arlecchino is not aware of what that means, she notices that it made the nest considerably warmer to lay in. 

Lyney and Lynette are already in the cave when you and Arlecchino have arrived. Once she places you down, the two creep up beside you, croaking and cooing in concern as they observe your sleeping form. Lyney perches on your chest, while the other hatchlings nestle between your body and arms, pressing on each side.

Arlecchino observes the sight, her human heart pumping rapidly. Seeing her children curls around you, it's a sight that she can never imagine. She allowed a human close to her, into her home, around her children. She grew attached to a human despite her best efforts. Had it been just two moon cycles ago, she would have never considered the notion, fathom the ability of allowing such, of enjoying a human's presence. 

Not since Crucabena. That despicable woman. It brings her great joy at the memory of burning her alive. She shakes the memories away, focusing back on you. After all, you aren't Crucabena–you aren't like all humans. And perhaps that is exactly why she grew a fondness for you. 

How can she not, however, when you’re the first that doesn't tremble at the sight of her claws, or behave cautiously around her? Perhaps you are a fool, no, she is sure of it, you are a fool who didn't know better. But still… how could she not, when you've fed them, cared for them, protected them when you needn't?

Arlecchino sighs, raising your head tenderly so she can comfortably sit while you lay on her leg. Gingerly, her fingers make her way into your hair, caressing the top of your head. She regards you with a soft gaze. 

How can she not grow attached to the one her little ones call ‘Mother?’ 

Ah, she is having foolish thoughts again. She looks away from you, before falling asleep herself. 

Arlecchino stirs awake as she feels the sun's rays peak through the cave's entrance. She notices your still unconscious form, strange, as you must have been asleep for half a day, if not more. Then, the closer that she examines your body, she notices you tremble relentlessly while panting heavily. Concern immediately spikes through her body, and she none-too-gently shoves Lyney off of you to relieve the pressure on your chest. Lyney protests the movement and harsh awakening with a grunt before turning to your unwell person, croaking and whining pitifully. This agitates the other two hatchlings, and all four dragons surround you. 

Arlecchino leans over you, scrutinizing every muscle twitch in your form. You're ill, that much is clear, but with what, the dragon isn't sure. Illness is practically nonexistent for dragons, unlike other species; there is little that can penetrate a dragon's scales. Even in human form, little harm can come hhr way. Humans, she had learned a century ago, are quite vulnerable and susceptible to nearly anything. And you, you've always seemed so frail and delicate to Arlecchino, even when she knows better compared to human standards. No matter how formidable you were in the face of the other dragon hunters, even you are human. 

Freminet coos as he nudged his head against your head, rough scales against your face but still you don't wake. Arlecchino tries herself to stir you, shaking you by the shoulders, but it's unsuccessful. You don’t wake, and your body seems warmer than it usually is–then for what reason does your body tremor like it does now? 

Arlecchino's heart pumps rapidly, rapid thoughts running across her head. What if you were to never wake? What if you remained this way until you perished? The vivid image of her crying children croaking for their Mother as you lay cold and still gripped her tightly, fueling her with something she hadn't felt in a long time.

“Wake up, human, wake up,” she demands with a foreign desperation, her brows knitted and her teeth clenched. Lynette nips at your arm, a futile attempt. 

“Archons-damn it,” Arlecchino grunts, taking you by the shoulder again before stopping. Her clawed fingers scratch at you lightly, faint red lines across your skin before beads of red manifest from the shallow cuts. The dragon pulls away, her hands turning into fists. How can she help you? She can't, not when she is so ignorant of humans and their bodies. You're not well, and yet she cannot help you.

For a dragon, she has never felt more helpless and weak than she is now. For the first time, she finds herself wishing that she was a human. If she was a human, she would know how to help you. If she was a human, she would know more than how to hurt and destroy. If she were human, then maybe she too would know how to preserve and save life. If she was a human perhaps you wouldn't be like this. If she was human…

She needs another human’s help. The realization comes to her and she stands up immediately. It hurts her more than she would like to admit, resorting to a human's help, but… her pride as a dragon is not worth your life–it never will be. 

Arlecchino tells the children to stay in the cave and watch over you, before she takes off in her dragon form, heading towards the nearby town with a bag of coins in her hand in her claws. She perches at the edge before transforming back into a human, wandering the streets with a cloak to hide her other draconic features and eventually finding the town center. There, she shouts and cries out for a doctor, flailing the bag of coins but no one approaches her. Arlecchino can feel her dignity deplete with every bellow, and her hope draining as more time passes.

Doubt begins to creep up her mind, as she ponders what it’d be like to live without you. She's already so accustomed to your presence, to wake up to your warmth everyday, your brilliant smile, your care towards her and her children. What if Arlecchino can never find help? What if you truly die, and once more her children experience another maternal figure leaving them? What will she do then?  She is not ready to part with you, not just yet. 

Still, despair slowly sinks into her eyes until a figure comes up to her, a small, hooded woman, with long, dark strands of pink-tipped hair, and a white ribbon over her eyes. How the human is able to see is a fleeting thought before she scrutinizes the person, suspicion and reluctance present in her expression. 

“You can help my friend?” Arlecchino questions, though she is in no place to deny help. 

“Of course,” the woman smiles cryptically. “What are your friend's symptoms?” 

“She's breathing heavily, trembling, and feels warmer than she is usually.” 

“Has she received any injury or wound recently?”

“Yes.”

“An infection then. That is easy enough to treat. Yes, I can help you. Take me to her,” the woman states, and Arlecchino obliges, as she leads the other woman to the way. 

“She is outside of the village, she lives in the middle of the forest.”

“I suspected that. Guide me.” 

Arlecchino takes the woman to the edge of the town, now at the edge of the forest when the woman stops her. “Well, aren't you going to start flying?” 

The dragon pauses and turns to her, her brows furrowed. Did the human know that she is a dragon? If so, how? Arlecchino made sure to hide all of the signs, hence the cloak. The dragon attempts to hide the shock in her expression.

“What?” Arlecchino gruffs with a bit of edge in her voice.

“You know. Use your wings?” The human suggests, making a hand gesture to emphasize. 

“You know I'm a dragon?” Arlecchino growls, raising a clawed hand to threaten her as she narrows her eyes. If she knows, then she is a danger, a threat. She can endanger her little ones if Arlecchino brings her to her home. Should she kill her? No, she can't kill her now, not when Arlecchino needs her, or needs your life more. 

“Of course, I do,” she answers merely. 

“Then why are you helping me? Do you want to die?” 

“Dragons that's come this far are rare. I believe it's only right to help fellow dragons, no?” 

“You are not human,” Arlecchino says matter-of-factly. 

“No, I am not,” the woman states with a smile. A pink light emanates from her being and blinds Arlecchino, the vibrant outline morphing from that of human-shaped to something ten times larger. Arlecchino steps away, as a large dragon replacing the form of the human, nearly as large as her own dragon form. White scales crisscross her black scales like x's. But most noticeably is that she has four pairs of wings, each one faded from ink to rose color at the ends, the wing bones covered in midnight scales while the flesh of the wings are colored with a similar roseate color to its tips.  

“Let me reintroduce myself,” the dragon says, fuchsia eyes glaring back at Arlecchino. “Call me Columbina. It's nice to see another dragon such as yourself. I promise no harm will come to you or your ‘friend.’ It's more beneficial to make allies with one another rather than enemies, don't you think?”

Arlecchino can practically hear the smirk from her tone, but she knows better than to reject the offer. Arlecchino may be among the most powerful of dragons, but a four-paired-wings dragon is out of her capability. Columbina outmatches her by experience as well as magical ability, and she cannot fight, not when she doesn't know how severe your condition is. What Columbina can benefit from her, she would just have to see, but you need to be treated first. 

“How can I be sure you can truly help me? You may be my elder, but I will not hesitate to strike against you,” Arlecchino snarls.  

“Why don't you just show me to your human companion instead of waving around these useless threats? I swear on the dragon's oath no harm will come to the human or to any of your things.”

The untransformed dragon contemplates on her words before sighing. A dragon's oath is nothing to scoff at; draconic magic binds the swearer to the oath, and if the swearer breaks it, heavy reparations are placed on the dragon. Columbina is serious about not hurting her, though helping her is still in question. Nonetheless, little can be done. Arlecchino reverts back to her dragon form. “Follow me.” 

As the two dragons make their way to the cave, Arlecchino cannot help but prod the other with questions. 

“How do you know how to treat humans? Why were you in the town posing as a human?” 

“A dragon lifestyle can be so dull. We live so animalistically, driven by instincts and basic biology. Why must we degrade ourselves to living as we do when we have the intelligence and consciousness of a human yet none of their weakness? Humans have proven themselves to be interesting. Working as a ‘quack,’ or what the humans tend to call me, has allowed me so many intriguing insights.” 

“You're studying humans?”

“Yes, don't you find such an inferior species quite fascinating?” 

“They are something,” she mutters absentmindedly. Frankly, she doesn't care about the other dragon's maniacal obsession. 

“Their bodies and mind is something I can toy with for years. Humans lie on such a delicate balance of relying on their animalistic features and relying on their intellect and judgment for their survival.”

Arlecchino just nods along. The two finally reach the cave, where the hatchlings greet Arlecchino, clambering over her back and arms. 

“Oh, little ones? How adorable,” Columbina coos, but makes no attempt to approach them. 

“Don't touch them. The human is farther inside,” Arlecchino growls and Columbina follows inside, converting back into her humanoid form. She strolls up to your sleeping form, crouching, and examining your figure. She places a hand on your forehead.

“My, my, my, what a pretty mate you have here. It is no wonder you were so protective.”

Arlecchino halts, her brain freezing as she comprehends her words. Her eyes go wide at her proclamation, and she nearly stammers out her response.“Mate? A human?”

“No? Though, I suppose I assumed wrong. She doesn't have your mark. Though, it makes no sense why you've yet killed her,” Columbina hums, unwrapping the cloth around your arm to look at your wound. “Hm, just as I thought. It's infected.”         

“Is it even possible to mate with a human? We are separate species.”

“Why? Perhaps you are interested in it yourself? Then it makes sense why you are so taken by this human,” the dragon muses, and Arlecchino flushes, shaking her head.  

“No, I was just questioning the plausibility of your suggestion,” the dragon quickly retorts. “Do not state such a preposterous thing.” 

Columbina smiles and turns to Arlecchino. “Well, I guess you are too young to know. It is possible, in fact our ancestry says so. We all originate from the same bloodline at one point, though that is about more than a millennium ago. To put it simply, Our ancestor mated with a human blessed by the Archons, and that is why we are born with magic in our veins, and have our human forms.”             

So it is possible for dragons to mate with humans… still, Arlecchino cannot fathom such a thing. Even in her humanoid form, you still are so small… she shakes her head, ridding of the notion. Mate with you? She has no place of even considering it when there's no intimacy between the two of you anyways.  

Columbina pours some type of translucent liquid over the wound before dabbing some type of fabric into it. She manifests a bottle, opening it and applying the contents over her clawed finger, then rubbing it over the wound. Afterwards, she wraps a clean cloth around your forearm. 

“Come here,” she gestures to Arlecchino. Arlecchino approaches you, and the other dragon passes her a roll of cotton material. “As you must know, humans are quite fragile. Hence, this human became ill because the material around her was dirty. It's important for humans to be as clean as possible, as it's quite easy for them to attract impurities that can harm them internally. Use this to reapply the wrappings every day. Keep it clean.

“Make sure the human is properly hydrated, with warm liquids if possible. Do not be overly concerned with how much she sleeps. Humans use sleep to recover their strength. Keep her in preferable conditions, and make sure she is properly warmed. Do you understand?” 

Arlecchino nods. “She will be fine just like that?” 

“Do you not trust your elder?” 

“I am still wondering if I should trust you. But, I can do nothing else but trust you. Thank you for your assistance.” 

Columbina grins, the same mysterious smile she seems awfully fond of. “Of course. I look forward to meeting you more often. I am glad there are dragons nearby. I'll be off now. I do hope your human stays alive.”

The dragon heads towards the exit, altering into her winged-form before flying off. Arlecchino sighs in relief, her attention towards you. You’ve stopped shivering, it looks like the trio thought to cover you with your jacket. Although you're still warm, your forehead was no longer burning up. 

Arlecchino’s attention is steered away from you when Freminet grazes his body against her leg, before squawking, making his hunger known. Right, she completely forgot about feeding them. She tells the twins to look after you as she and Freminet goes to the nearby river, to collect fish. 

The dragon, in her human form, uses the fishing net just like you taught her, easily catching enough fish for the four of them, before returning back to the cave. As the two dragons return to the cave, they're met with a surprising, but not unwelcome sight. 

“Arlecchino. Freminet,” you greet with a grin, as you're sitting up right in the nest, the twins cuddling up around you as you stroke their heads. Your voice is different, strained and it clearly takes quite a bit of effort from you, but nonetheless, it makes Arlecchino's heart bound. 

Freminet all but drops the bag of fish in his mouth and dashes to you, charing into your stomach as pleased grumbles reverberate through his throat. Meanwhile, Arlecchino makes no rush towards you, simply strutting towards you with a faint smile. Hidden behind her eyes is relief. 

“You're okay,” is all the paternal dragon says. 

You beam brighter. “I will be. I still feel pretty bad, but…” You glance at your bandaged forearm. “I'll be fine because of you.” 

You gesture her closer, snaking out your arm from the hatchling's grasp and extending it out to her. Curiously, Arlecchino places her clawed hand. Intertwining your fingers with hers, you guide her hand towards your face before placing your lips on her knuckles.

“Take this as my sincere thanks, Arlecchino.” 

Arlecchino does not wrench her hand away, instead, scoffing in reply before looking away. Her tail flails behind her frantically, comparable to that of an excited dog. Her cheeks are tinged with red. “Getting better can be your thanks.” 

[leclercloml]

Blaugrana Girl | PG8

pairing: pedri gonzalez x modric!reader

summary: barcelona's golden boy and La Liga's starboy, who've been single for a while and have finally started dating someone, and that someone turns out to be none other than the daughter of the famous midfielder of their biggest rival and the 2018 Ballon d'Or winner, Luka Modric.

genre: SMAU

warnings: google translated spanish and croatian, grammar mistakes i guess, incorrect match dates (to match the storyline)

author's note: I can't believe this is my first time doing a footballer fic even though football is my favourite sport alongside f1, anyways hope you guys like it

ynmodric

liked by judebellingham , lukamodric10 , pedri and 4,789,629 others

ynmodric 🕶️🤍

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lukamodric10 moja prekrasna kćer 🤍 (my gorgeous daughter)

⤷ynmodric Hvala ti dad 🫶🏻 (thank you dad)

⤷username THE father and daughter duo.

toni.kr8s hermosa chica 😊🤍 (beautiful girl)

⤷ynmodric gracias, tío!! (thanks uncle)

⤷username she's basically daughter of every older player in rm 😭😭😭

⤷username it's adorable 😭🫶🏻

username she's so iconic for being a culer, I love her sm.

⤷username yeah the fact that her dad is a madrid legend but she's a culer makes it 10× funnier

⤷username she's a culer?

⤷username yupp, Luka said it himself in post match interview against barca "yeah we won, my daughter might be very sad, since she likes barcelona more"

username she's an icon, she's a legend and she is the moment.

username she's so beautiful 😭😭

username her fashion sense tho>>>>

fedevalverde Eres tan genial, ¿ser mi amigo? (You're so cool, be my friend?)

⤷ynmodric no.

⤷rodrygogoes 😂🫵🏻

⤷username rodryyyy 😭😭😭

⤷username i love these three so much 😭

username wifey.

ynmodric

liked by judebellingham, toni.kr8s , pedri and 2,749,730 others

yourinstagram no I still haven't forgave him for 2 goals against us but I guess he's kinda cool.

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judebellingham I have apologised 10 times already.

⤷ynmodric yes, and I do not forgive you, and that win was beginners luck

⤷username what a bitch hating on the team her father play for and calling our rivals "us" ungrateful bastards.

⤷username WOAH calm your horses, it's all joke when Luka, Jude and other madrid guys don't mind it, why is it bothering you sm, a lot of players kid support their dad's/mom's rivals, it's common in football world chill.

⤷username "ungreatful bastard" bro she is literally the most grateful person ever.

⤷username chill out, it's all joke and just because she supports barca doesn't mean she's "ungreatful".

username i love the mad madridistas in comments, cry more.

⤷username no but imagine hating on someone just because they don't support your favourite lmfao.

username Jude x y/n 👀

⤷username say another word and I'll finna throw hands

username pedri you ain't slick with that like.

⤷username homeboy thinking he can pull her.

⤷username he's can tho-

⤷username he can but I don't think Jude will miss his chance

⤷username this is exactly what I hate, she would post just one player and the shipping is there, first with Valverde (he literally had a girlfriend) and then Rodrygo and now Jude, can you all just stop?

⤷username fr fr, like her dad plays for that club, it's obvious she's gonna be friends with the players around her age and by these shippings you all are just ruining their friendship.

username pedri liked.....

⤷username he likes all of her posts...and vice versa....

⤷username and she's a culer....

⤷username yeah we know she's a culer you don't need to mention it every 2 seconds.

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⤷username lmao 😭

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⤷username did he told you that?

username ok but why do I ship.

⤷username kys.

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username alright can we stop talking about jude and pedri and talk about HER like she look so beautiful.

⤷username oh my god finally! Everyone is just "oh Jude and y/n i ship" , "oh pedri in the likes, I ship" NO! it ain't about them, it's about y/n.

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username mother. (she's 19)

username y/n i would lick the floor you walk on.

⤷username WOAH! now calm down there.

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username beautiful!

pedri

liked by pablogavi , _rl9 , ynmodric and 56,739,428 others

pedri força barça ye FUERZA TENERIFE!! 💪🏻💔🏝️

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pablogavi vamos hermano!! (Let's go brother!!)

⤷pedri Muchas gracias hermano ❤️. (Thank you so much bro)

⤷username brothers 😭😭🫶🏻🫶🏻

⤷username THE golden boys.

⤷username i love them your honour

_rl9 eras increíble pequeño (you were incredible little one)

liked by pedri

⤷username ahhhhh they're literally a family

⤷username mes que un club 💙❤️

username pedri potter 🎩🪄

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username you were amazing pedri! Praying for tenerife 🫶🏻

username força pedri y fuerza tenerife!

adidas magician 🪄

⤷username adidas admin is just like us fr.

ynmodric incredible performance! praying for tenerife 🇮🇨❤️

⤷pedri muchas gracias y/n, realmente lo aprecio ❤️ (thank you so much y/n, i really appreciate it)

⤷username ajssvakdbsnkshdksdj yes yes yes

⤷username screaming!!!!!

⤷username she have commented on Lewy's acc multiple times but this is the first time she have commented on Pedri's post, we're winning!!!

⤷username the red heart 😭😭😭

⤷username y/n baby come back home.

⤷username am I dreaming???

⤷username they'll be the power couple.

username y/n's comment is gonna make a lot of madristas mad 😭😭

⤷username who even cares about them.

username vamos pedri!!! Visca barca!

ynmodric

tenerife, canary islands, spain

liked by judebellingham, vinijr, pedri and 2,749,825 others

ynmodric no fire could ever burn the beauty of this place 🏝️

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username she's so beautiful wtf

username y/n adopt me please.

vinijr hope you're enjoying your vacation 🏝️

⤷ynmodric very much 🌚

⤷username excuse me? What's that emoji supposed to mean?

username canary islands?? TENERIFE??!!

⤷username what's wrong with canary islands?

⤷username nothing it's just she's in Tenerife!

⤷username yeah well then what's wrong with tenerife?

⤷username you're joking right? You do know who's from tenerife?

⤷username who?

⤷username pedri, the barca midfielder.

⤷username excuse me???!! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??

judebellingham spending summer alone? Might be boring af.

⤷ynmodric who said I was alone?

⤷username HELLO??? JUDE, VINI WHAT DO YOU BOTH KNOW?

⤷username WHOEVER is with MY wife, leave.

⤷username see I'm not trying to be delusional and all shit but whenever someone mention canaries or tenerife the only person i could think of is Pedri 😭

⤷username THEY would break the football internet.

⤷username i can already imagine the headlines 😭

username oh my god this was not on my 2023 bingo card.

username i always shipped them so.

⤷username me too 😭😭

username imagine pedri posting himself in canary islands after this

⤷username lmfao that would be iconic.

pedri

tenerife, canary islands, spain

liked by pablogavi , _ferminlopez, ynmodric and 26,739,198 others

pedri summer break 🏝️

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username ALRIGHT WHAT THE FUCK, PEDRO GONZALEZ LOPEZ, WHO GAVE YOU RIGHTS TO COME ON INSTAGRAM HALF NAKED??

username the muscles I'm on my knees.

username I PREDICTED IT! NO ONE CAN SAY OTHER WISE.

⤷username predicted what?

⤷username go check y/n modric's post, her and pedri are spending summer vacation together !!!

⤷username I JUST DID HELLO??!! SOMEONE EVEN COMMENTED SAYING "imagine pedri posting himself in canary islands after this" and he did 😭!!

⤷username he saw the comments and went like "alr let's give you all what you want" icon fr. 😭

pablogavi I wonder when was the last time I saw that location on a post 🤔.

⤷pedri keep wondering.

⤷username under y/n's post!!!

liked by pablogavi

⤷username he liked!!!

⤷username they're together 😭

⤷username Jude punching the air rn

⤷username they were just friends.

⤷username pedri and y/n THE power couple

username if they ever had kids yk the midfield genes are gonna be crazy

⤷username they've not even confirmed their relationship yet and you're already talking about kids 😭😭

username this is MY roman empire

_ferminlopez looking good hermano 😉

⤷username HE KNOWS.

username this was not on my 2023 bingo card

⤷username same 😭

⤷username it was on no one's 😭😭

username SO WE CAN SEE Y/N WEARING A BARCA JERSEY???

⤷username never

Twitter

Instagram

ynmodric

liked by pedri , judebellingham, vinijr and 3,638,629 others

ynmodric it was supposed to be a surprise or soft launch or whatever but y'all are literal Sherlock Holmes, so here it is, the love of my life, the most precious thing to me, MY beautiful boyfriend, te amo bebe ❤️ (AND don't worry y'all dad approves)

tagged; pedri

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pedri was the last pic really necessary???

⤷ynmodric what? you look cute!!!

⤷vinijr you really do 😹

⤷username lmao 😭

⤷username divided by rivalry united by y/n

⤷username el clasico gonna be more fun now

pedri te amo mucho ❤️

⤷ynmodric te amo mucho también❤️

_ferminlopez we're not sherlock holmes, you both are just stupid.

⤷ynmodric OK rude.

⤷pablogavi he's right tho, you both made it so obvious 💀

⤷pedri go away, both of you.

⤷username I'M DYING 😭

⤷username i mean they're not wrong, they both made it so obvious

lukamodric10 where did you get that picture from???

⤷ynmodric I have my ways don't worry.

⤷username I'm speechless.

pedri mi mujer 🫶🏻 (my woman)

⤷ynmodric yours only 🤍

⤷rodrygogoes gross 🤢

⤷ynmodric go away hater.

fedevalverde hermoso 😍 (beautiful)

⤷ynmodric thank you fed, but why tf do you comment like a 30 year old aunt.

⤷fedvalverde I do not??

⤷username you do 😭

⤷username I'm sorry valverde but you do 😭😭

username LUKA'S PIC I'M DYING, SHE'S SO ICONIC 😭

⤷ynmodric I mean you guys were so worried about his reaction and all stuff so

⤷username AHHHHHH!!!! SHE REPLIED

⤷username you won 😭

username Y/N IS WEARING A BARCA JERSEY, IN A MATCH!!?? WHY DIDN'T ANY OF US SAW THIS BEFORE

⤷ynmodric I'm surprised you sherlock people didn't found out earlier, guess i outsmarted you all.

⤷username outsmarted us fr fr

username they're the IT couple

username pedri you better treat my woman right or else 🤺

⤷username stop you're embarrassing.

⤷username 💀💀💀

lukamodric10 sviđa mi se, dobar je dečko 🤍(I like him, he's a good guy)

⤷ynmodric zaista je vrlo simpatičan (he indeed is very likeable)

⤷judebellingham @/pedri you have the approval from big man

⤷pedri appreciate it 🤍

⤷username never in my 1000 year of life i would've thought that barca players and real madrid players would have this kind of interaction

⤷username me too girl me too

pedri te amo ❤️

⤷ynmodric Yo también te amo ❤️

pedri

liked by ynmodric, pablogavi, _rl9 and 38,839,327 others

pedri my no. 1 fan aka the love of my life, te amo mucho ❤️

tagged; ynmodric

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ynmodric proud to be the no.1 of the most perfect boy known to mankind

⤷pedri hi this is fer, pedri just throw his phone across the wall and started sprinting in the entire house

⤷ynmodric help what 😭😭

⤷pedri not true!!!

⤷feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr he's blushing like a school girl

⤷ynmodric he do look very pretty with those pink tint on his cheeks

⤷feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr he died, dead.

⤷username this have to be the cutest most adorable-st and funniest reply chain I've ever read.

⤷username pedri is whipped 😭

pablogavi i had to watch you both make out infront of me to get that picture and in return i get no pic credits????

⤷pedri it's not about you.

⤷pablogavi it should be.

⤷ynmodric 📸; angry bird

⤷pablogavi I am not???!!!

⤷pedri you are

⤷ferrantorres you are

⤷_ferminlopez you are

⤷judebellingham you are

⤷vinijr you are

⤷username not Jude 😭😭😭

⤷username my man played 1 match against him and already looked devastated 😭

⤷username divide by rivalry united by yn and pedri

⤷username that rhymes 😭😭

username this is the most iconic thing ever happened after 18.12.22

ynmodric mi amorrrrr ❤️

⤷pedri ❤️❤️❤️

⤷username cutiesss 😭😭

ynmodric fuck it, imma pull a frenkie, 👵🏻❤️👴🏻

⤷pedri lmfao😭

⤷mikkykiemeny stop 😭😭

⤷frenkiedejong what's wrong with that emoji??!

⤷ynmodric absolutely NOTHING 🫶🏻!

⤷username she's so fucking iconic!!!

⤷username my favourite wags.

username they're literally the cutest and the best couple ever

username they're an absolutely icon

username do you want real love or do you just want what they have.... what's the difference actually??

username bro scoring on and off pitch

ynmodric Te amo mucho mi amor ❤️ (i love you so much my love)

⤷pedri Yo también te amo mucho mi amor❤️🫶🏻!!(I love you so much too mi amor)

⤷username GOD IT'S ME AGAIN

username they're the best fr

username i love them your honour.

[ysaefinn]

on the topic of knight suguru, I imagine that if you do have to get married, he'd be sneaking in your room the nights before the wedding and just gently watching you sleep, he gifts you a necklace to wear everyday, he's taking you to the medows to be alone together etc. he's soaking up as much time together, he's a little (a lot) bitter and sappy about it on the inside

(on the flip side, once he's adjusted to it all, he definitely tries to wedge himself in the marriage in all the subtle ways he can, and make sure that your knight is more important than your betrothed lol)

Anon, I'm gonna yap so hard i hope you don't mind.

I do think about this a lot actually, about how you'll eventually have to take a noble spouse buuuutt it won't be as bad as you think.

Suguru can't keep eliminating all of your suitors because he will at some point get caught, and in that case not even you can save him since he'd be at the mercy of the king.

The thing is, this does tie a lot to the characterization of reader, if you've noticed from My Sword Insures Your Crown (the yan knight!suguru fic) reader isn't exactly normal lmao, they're pretty nonchalant about the whole murder thing, what threw them off was seeing their typically calm and composed knight in that state. But they are very much aware of the guard dog/owner dynamic they have, despite that they're very much in love lol.

I never got to chance to fully showcase this so I'm gonna tell you this rn, royal!reader is a pretty controversial figure in medieval royalty standards, they're not gonna sit still and look pretty and nod at everything the king says like an obedient little princess, royal reader really really REALLY hates their father (for reasons I'll get into some other time) they're not straight up bratty either, very calm, composed and would much rather play the long game, with that being said, royal!reader isn't going to be obsessed with their image, so trust and BELIEVE their affair with Suguru is going to be an open secret. So what if their spouse finds out? They never had a romance to begin with so what exactly did they expect?

Suguru's perspective tho is different, his love for you isn't just tied to the crown, he does adore seeing you stand tall and shine bright but he will never join your admirers in reducing you to "the next in line for the crown" (by this I don't mean greed, I mean the image and appeal of a prince/princess) he loves you wholeheartedly, in any universe in any reality Suguru will love you, your raw unfiltered self, he got the chance to meet who truly wears the crown and it's all that clouds his mind. Of course, he treats you with the same respect as all your other servants, of course he takes his duty in protecting you very seriously, of course there's a power dynamic , but when it's just the two of you, it's truly just the two of you. All of this is to say that suguru's dream is to take you far far away and marry you, that way he can protect AND provide for you. He already considers himself to be your real husband because he called him that on multiple occasions, he knows only he holds your heart,

Suguru is not going to let you go anytime soon, he knows you'll protect him from your spouse so he won't shy away from subtly rubbing it in their face either lmao

[allwaswell16]

A One Direction fic rec of fics I think you should read twice as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers. You can find my other recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

🍒 This Multiplicity of Powers by @helloamhere

(E, 149k, X-Men au) Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside. But this isn’t that universe.

🍒 There’s Such a Lot of World to See by @crinkle-eyed-boo

(E, 125k, Doctor Who au) Louis has seen a great many things throughout his travels in time and space, but only one he can’t explain: He keeps meeting the same boy, who says the same thing to him each time.

🍒 And What If I Were You by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 109k, blind Louis) For Louis, will losing his sight give him the clarity to realise what is right in front of him? For Harry, will losing the love of his life give him the strength to finally open his heart?

🍒 ghost of you by beckywritesthings / @beckydoesthings

(E, 109k, Star Wars au) when Harry Styles, esteemed Jedi Knight, finds out he has to work with the hot-tempered Mandalorian Duke, Louis Tomlinson, he’s prepared for it to go poorly. But it doesn’t, testing both of their boundaries of what they deem acceptable for a partnership.

🍒 Black with Autumn Rain by whimsicule / @baroness-elsa

(T, 93k, magical realism) Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren't exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

🍒 Nothing But You On My Mind by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense

(E, 83k, royal) Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. 

🍒 Unveiled by @phdmama

(M, 65k, omegaverse) most surprising are the people. There is a crowd gathered, filled with men and women, some in what looks to be a military uniform, some in what must be the street clothes in this Land. There are no robes. And not a single one of them is veiled.

🍒 Old Photographs & Times I'll Remember by @jaerie

(E, 53k, time travel) H.S. was likely the man in the photographs as well as the owner of the suitcase. Who was he? Why had his suitcase found its way into Niall’s attic? Was he still alive and well somewhere in the world? A camera, a suitcase, and a relationship forged through time.

🍒 Tied to Fate by @littlelouishiccups

(E, 52k, ghost) After his estranged father’s death, Harry inherits a castle in England that has belonged to his family for generations and he knows nothing about. When he breaks up with his boyfriend, Harry decides England is the perfect place for a small vacation. He isn’t prepared to meet Louis Tomlinson

🍒 The Second Hand Unwinds by @kingsofeverything

(E, 51k, time travel) Louis Tomlinson is one of the first members of NASA's top secret Chrono Exploration Program. When things go wrong and he's sent further back in time than planned, he has no other option than to show up on his ex-boyfriend's doorstep.

🍒 Tied Down by HamPalpert

(E, 48k, crime) The most interesting case in Liam and Niall's careers falls directly into their laps, courtesy of an epic fuck-up of one Harry Styles, partner to the almost-infamous drug dealer Louis Tomlinson. 

🍒 take my hand (and my heart and soul) by bananasandboots / @anylessreal

(M, 45k, amnesia) the one where Harry hasn't spoken to his best friend in sixteen months and can't remember why.

🍒 And That's The Tea by @2tiedships2

(M, 27k, soulmates) the one where Louis loses his soulmate before even getting the chance to meet them, and he is in no way prepared for the kind of distraction his new friend Harry proves to be.

🍒 No One Like You by myownspark / @myownsparknow

(M, 19k, historical) Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.

🍒 I Am the Blinking Light by @dearmrsawyer

(G, 19k, ghost) There is a legend of a lighthouse far out to sea. It can’t be found on any map, and those who do find it never return. They say a ghost haunts the lighthouse, and you can hear it calling out in loneliness on the ocean waves.

🍒 Have Me And Hold Me by @letsjustsee

(NR, 5k, established relationship)  a wedding day AU in which Louis will let nothing stand in the way of a perfect day - especially a little rain.

🍒 No One But You Got Me Feeling This Way by runaway_train / @runaway-train-works

(E, 3k, camboy) The one where Harry has a particular desire that only Louis can fulfill

- Rare Pairs -

🍒 I Had Rather (series) by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

(E, 261k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) Nick and Louis like each other, but sometimes that's not enough.

🍒 Miss Missing You by harriet_vane

(M, 16k, Liam/Louis) Louis wakes up after an accident with a year of memories gone and something not quite right about his relationship with Liam.

🍒 Favourite Boy by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

(T, 8k, Louis/Zayn) Zayn and Louis have been hook-ups for the past three years and Zayn is getting frustrated with it, but doesn't know what to do about it.

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 52!

can you believe that this is the last rec list of 2024? because wow i can't. time flies... anyway, have a fairly holiday-heavy rec list to end the year with <3

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

benefits | rororowyourboat/@rosieposiepuddingnpie | 4.9k | E

When Eddie is crashing at Buck's place during the COVID shutdown, they start hooking up and... just keep going, even though they both insist to themselves and others that it doesn't mean anything. Unless... it does? literally nothing will ever hit as hard as buddie being friends with benefits but then being so dumb about it for being in love reasons <3 this captures that perfectly!

caffeine high | JessicaMDawn/@jessicamdawn | 13.9k | T

Before Buck was Buck, he was Stefan Everhart, member of a boyband called Caffeine High. His career as a celebrity lasted for only five years, and Buck has done his best to put it behind him, but those experiences still bleed into his daily life. It just so happens that there are some Caffeine High fans among the 118. i love the little peeks into buck's boyband days and how he grew up and turned into the buck we know and love in this au!!

cherry chocolate goodness on a gray day | the_milky_way | 1.3k | GA

Eddie has not a so nice day and all he wants is to snuggle up on his couch with a big tub of ice cream. Buck simply joins him. With his own tub of course. this fic makes me wish i liked cherries. so soft so buddie <3

dreams like a podcast (downloading truth in my ears) | iphigenias/@oatflatwhite | 1.3k | GA

Eddie chucks the tea towel over his shoulder and turns so his hip’s pressed against the counter and he’s facing Buck, who is wrist-deep in lukewarm dishwater and no doubt as bright red as he feels. “I think you’re cool, and smart, and hot, and I love you.” “Okay,” Buck says, stupidly. His fingers are starting to prune. “You know I—me too.” they're so cute <3 one of my favourite domestic fics!!

grief stays outside your house (until you let it in) | justhockey | 2.3k | not rated

Eddie is falling, falling, falling. His legs buckle underneath the weight of all this grief, and when he collapses to the floor the impact causes him to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. He grips the bat tighter still, even though the guilt of it is burning his palms now - even though the only thing in this room either of them need to be frightened of is him. i'm not a massive angst reader, but every now and then i browse for something in the angst and feels tag because i'm just in the mood for it, and this hit the spot perfectly the other day. so beautifully written <3

if we could be serious we wouldn't be us | BekkaChaos/@bekkachaos | 1.2k | GA

Buck gives Eddie baking lessons. Flour fight leads to laughter and kissing in Eddie’s kitchen. they get a little silly and soft and it's just so good!!

i'll be home for christmas | lecornergirl/@clusterbuck | 1.5k | GA

Christopher had messaged, two weeks ago, and said he didn’t want to spend Christmas in Texas. He’d said his grandmother doesn’t decorate the house right, that she won’t let him put popcorn garlands on the tree, that she’s trying to tell him snickerdoodles aren’t Christmas cookies. He’d said he wants to come home. Or— What he’d said was, can i come and spend christmas with you? the family feels are real <3 i love the hopefulness in this one!!

into it (you've got me tied up) | Snacks_4life | 7k | E

Eddie finds BDSM gear in Buck’s closet, leading to them discussing rope bondage. When Buck suggests they try it out together, Eddie can’t do anything other than agree, even if it’s supposed to be platonic. In the end though, it seems it’s not only Eddie who can’t keep his dirty thoughts to himself. buddie + bondage + getting together = one excellent excellent fic <3

like a dog with a bird at your door | fleetinghearts/@shitouttabuck | 51.2k | E

evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home. this is so beautifully written!! fantastic characterisation, gorgeous prose... truly all a girl (me) could want. i love the sequel as well!

my true love gave to me | scarmaddiewrites | 10.6k | T

Eddie’s plan to woo Buck at Christmas time. eddie spoiling buck around christmas time is just <3<3 so fluffy so good

rearview blues | clytemnestra/@clytemnestraaa | 16.5k | E

Eddie Diaz is not having a great time in El Paso. eddie might not be having a great time but i sure am <3 the torment nexus is real and i love it so much. beautiful fic!!

see the lights, and hang the stockings | wafflesofdoom/@capseycartwright | 2.6k | GA

Eddie finds out that Buck has never ever had a Christmas stocking of his own. He's very determined to change that and share a few Diaz family traditions. eddie going all in to make sure buck has a good christmas and feels included and loved and only good things my most beloved <3 exactly what i needed this holiday season!!

welcome back to the basement | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 18.4k | E

Buddie as The Basement Yard boys. the pet names!! i love their dynamic here, the dialogue feels so very them. it's just so so good!

[kesujo]

Please Rank these different Taeyeon scenarios from hot to I’ll go feral and we’ll fuck non stop for months. Thank you hehe. Also which ones are your favorites?

Mother

Step-mother

Mother-in-law

Older sister

Noona Taeyeon

Baby sitter when you were younger

Best friends mother

Older next door neighbor

Neighborhood MILF

Boss

Older coworker

Teacher

Random stranger you hook up with.

A voyeuristic/exhibitionist Taeyeon

Older Taeyeon but submissive to a younger male.

If you don't mind, I'll be taking your prompt extremely literally (without taking into account the fact that I'm demisexual). You'll see what I mean when I get there :D

This is going from most favorite to least favorite.

Older Taeyeon but submissive to a younger male. This one is goated for sure. Taeyeon is older than me, and I think I prefer to be dominant, so this pretty much perfectly fits my current situation (I guess I should put a disclaimer here to say that, of course, I don't ever anticipate, like, being able to have a chance with Taeyeon ever xD). Yeah, not too sure what else to say here.

Taeyeon is mommy, but she also gives off pretty submissive vibes sometimes. 😌

Also, look at that shirt. Even offering her youth to me. Very submissive, very breedable. I will be taking no further comments, thanks.

Older next door neighbor / Neighborhood MILF I know there's quite a big difference between these two, but honestly, they're both equally hot in my mind. One is just someone who lives nearby, while the other, I imagine, compensates for that by being more flirty and whatnot. Either way, this one is nearly tied with the above, and maybe in fact I would place higher if I thought about it more ... I guess there's something about the hot, older woman neighbor that's just dents my brain.

Cutie-pie, def gives next-door-neighbor vibes here, no?

And then, the neighborhood MILF ... yep, brain dented.

Older coworker Being a coworker invites lots of natural everyday interaction, which is always a plus. The only negative is if there's any fallout, then things may become awkward, but then again, didn't a lot of people meet by being coworkers before dating apps were a thing? But yeah. Being able to see her every weekday, or nearly every weekday, is a huge plus, and even more if there are company dinners and stuff. All of these 4 scenarios are very good ones in my book

Taeyeon walkin up to be like this, I will do anything you want me to do. Ma'am. Respectfully.

Noona Taeyeon Not too sure what this meant, so I just took this to mean, like, Taeyeon but she's your senior in something, like taekwondo classes or something. Taeyeon gives massive noona energy, and I feel like she treats her dongsaengs pretty well, so this one is also a pretty good scenario. Very nice. Would love to be in this scenario with her. (:

Some may recognize this outfit as the same one I used for the fic I dropped for her birthday this year. Gives some pretty serious Noona vibes though, no? Or, maybe this one, too

Yep. Would.

Boss This one is ... sorta troublesome? There's some power dynamic, but on the other hand, that's sorta hot? I don't know, man. Taeyeon can boss me around all day is what I'm sayin. I'd work so much overtime if Taeyeon was my boss.

I'm not really one to do overtime, but ... I mean, are you telling me if your boss looked like that, you aren't immediately complying with any of her requests to work overtime? And, in return, she'll grant me some favors...? 😳

A voyeuristic/exhibitionist Taeyeon Wasn't really sure where to put this one, tbh. On one hand, I don't really like the idea of the girl I'm seeing being seen by others, but on the other, you aren't asking about that. A Taeyeon who loves to show off her assets is almost nearly what we have in this timeline, which is to say, it is a very nice situation. A voyeuristic/exhibitionist Taeyeon would be showing off a little bit more, I guess? Showing off more of her ass maybe, the occasional nip slip, or perhaps some underboob ... 🤤

pretty much, technically SFW voyeur Taeyeon.

Random stranger you hook up with I said I'm not going to take my demisexuality in mind here, but in general, I don't really see much appeal to hooking up with strangers. BUT, IF THAT STRANGER IS TAEYEON ... I mean, I can make exceptions to the rule. Taeyeon is my exception to pretty much any rule.

Like, you're telling me Taeyeon walks up to me like this and smiles at me like this, that I'm not gonna smash? Nope, definitely gonna smash.

Teacher There's some power dynamics at play here again. Gonna sorta ignore the pedophilia thing, because even if you were to say it's an 18-year-old high schooler (and, since it's a teacher and not professor, I'm assuming this isn't a college teacher), that's still a little ... YEAH, SO IGNORING THAT, teacher Taeyeon is a pretty hot concept.

Point proven.

Starting here is the area of, well, I guess, 'no pretty much no matter what' kinda deal.

Best friends mother This one, although it's not wrong in any way, just sorta feels like you're doing something bad. Like, imagine finding out your best friend was secretly sleeping with your mother behind your back ... yeah, that wouldn't be too fun to find out. At least, for me.

Step mother This would imply that she's married to my father - this is a step removed from below, Mother-in-law, which I have below, but ... yeah, not too keen on helping someone cheat, especially if I know my partner's significant other, and especially if that significant other is someone I care about.

Mother-in-law Taeyeon being my Mother-in-law assumes that I'm married, which would mean that I would, presumably, be in love with my wife, which would not be ... very conducive to wanting to fuck her, I'd say :p

Baby sitter when you were younger This is basically pedophilia...? I mean, the hot baby sitter is a trope and everything, but ... yeah ... as I said, sorry, but I'm taking this extremely literally xD

Mother Everyone knows the Oedipus Complex that speculates that a man is most attracted to a woman that is similar to his own mother (there's probably more to this, but that's what's relevant here), but if I'm understanding this properly, it's not saying that the man is attracted to his own mother, just a woman like her. All that to say, yeah ... if Taeyeon was my mother, I'd maybe be a lucky boy because I don't have a reason to suspect that Taeyeon would be a bad mother, but I wouldn't want to have sex with her if I were her son.

Older sister In my books, older sister is definitely worse than mother, especially since I have an older sister and I'm pretty close to her. As much as both are pretty repulsive, I'd say siblings are more likely to be closer and therefore, it's weirder/worse in this scenario?

I guess the 'appeal' of Mother/Baby sitter is that this woman is your caretaker and that translates into sexual attraction, or something? Idk, tbh.

OK BACK TO WRITING

[makeyoumine69]

Hello dear people in my beloved American Psycho fandom! I couldn't force myself to write this post because I didn't know how to do it, but I think now is the right time. I promised myself not to bring personal stuff into my writing, but since one thing affects another, I think I should finally speak up.

This year started pretty bad for me, I was suffering from a huge apathy and my mental health was probably in the worst state in the last few years. I had to cut ties with a lot of people and distance myself, and I'm really sorry for doing that, but I had no choice because I was literally dying from the inside. When I came back to Tumblr in 2022, I was absolutely alone and I had no friends, no followers and in some ways I felt calm and peaceful. I always thought and probably still think that I should be alone and isolated from everyone, like a soulless writing machine just producing fanfictions for people to consume. Maybe this is not a bad thing, because interacting with people always carries the risk of getting bruised?

Anyway, the thing that broke me completely was the news I received in the last days of January that I would be fired in February because my company decided to close the project I was working on due to the high inflation and bad economic situation in Russia. So now I have to find a job within February because I have a lot of financial responsobilities like paying for the medical treatment my family is getting. My grandmother was diagnosed with kidney cancer and her surgery was paid for by me and my fiancé, but the medicine costs a lot, so… after I told my mom about my news, she blamed me for everything. I was not really surprised though, considering that I have been having fights with my whole family for the past few months over different topics, but mostly they hate me for my political opinions. Whenever I say that I am tired of the war, sanctions and all the other stuff that 2022 has brought, they call me a fucking traitor. My family is ready to cancel me just because I told them I was tired of living in isolation, that I had even forgotten what my life was like before the war. My fiancé is literally the only person in my family who supports me, and even though I'm going to lose my job, he told me he would do anything for me, for us, but I don't want to be a burden. I'm really scared about the future, I think I really am now.

So, I'm sorry for not finishing the Christmas fics I promised to post, I'll try to finish them soon. Also, I'm sorry for not being active with fulfilling the requests and replying to your asks. I'm really sorry. And I know some of you might think that why I keep writing new series and working on different stuff while I have WIPs I need to finish—I'm just trying to follow my muse and I can say that it's really unstable these days, but I'm really trying to do my best and deliver something good for all of you!

I also want to thank all of you who have supported me with your donations! It means the world to me! Unfortunately, my account on the platform I was using for donations has been suspended because of… DOLLARS! They think I'm a scammer or something because the dollar is such a cursed currency in Russia right now, so I don't know if they'll unban my account, I hope they will.

Okay, that was longer than I thought it would be. To end this crazy rant, I just want to thank you guys for sticking with me no matter how fucked up I might be! I believe that one day I will find my way back to myself so that I can come back strong and refreshed!

[lara4eclipze]

›› Ghostface

sypnosis ›› what's supposed to be a night filled with relaxation quickly turns into horror — as you come face to face with your stalker

warnings ›› suggestive , almost smut...(i think) , swearing , creepy shit , stalking , trespassing , obsessed!lara , she kinda mean too , slight bondage , kissing , hickeys , choking

talks ›› finally rewriting old fics!! , anyways hope yall like this better than wtv i first wrote!! love yall mwamwa

taglist (open) : @nyssalvr @ohmyhaely @vrtualstar @jellaaa @nakylvr @chuugetmesohigh @c-yerim

the night was peaceful, semesteral break was finally here and all of your roomates were either with their family or partners — which you had neither , besides it's better to bed rot anyways

you had planned out your night pretty well — watch a horror movie , cook popcorn , possibly buy a drink and get drunk , and finally pass out on your bed that you oh so conveniently have just changed into new sheets

tonight was supposed to go to plan — now sitting on your couch watching scream , a classic horror movie that you can get behind

"ah fuck!" you wince as you drop the remote on your feet , you bend down to pick it up but right as you stood up your phone started ringing

"weird it's like 11 am who the fuck calls at this hour" you mutter, but you walk up to your phone and answer the number — you thought maybe it was one of those prank calls or maybe someone who got the number wrong

"hello?" you ask on the line slightly irritated that your time was possibly wasted by answering the call

the line was silent for a few beats, until you hear this distorted voice speak "hi enjoying the horror movie?" , how the fuck did it know you were even watching one

"who is this?" you started getting worried and scared, like said previously you are alone in your dorms right now — and it's not like it is hard to break into this place

no answer — but yet again you asked "who the fuck are you?" you almost scream into the phone, mainly pissed off but mostly scared

"oh you'll see" the other person snickers, and just like that the line dies left with the eerie feeling of someone watching you and a static noise

you felt your body get goosebumps—as you try to calm down , when suddenly the electricity went out

"okay what the fuck, what is this timing?!" you internally screamed as you reach for your phone that was tossed carelessly on the sofa

you navigate and run to your room as you open the flash feature on your phone — you sigh out of relief

"you're so cute when you're scared" you hear a familiar voice behind you, you scream out of panic until said familiar voice covers your head with this sack like material

"finally, I was starting to get annoyed by your screaming," the person says, you felt it make you sit down on your bed, thoughts raced through your head

"shit! get away from me!" you try screaming ever so loudly until you feel your hands being tied, your heart feels like it is about to explode any second from now with how terrified you were

"shh, no one will hear you— remember they all are not home" the person says, in a condescending tone, reminding you that if not every student within this dormitory has gone to go to their vacations

you silently obey not wanting a single piece of your being to be hurt, the last thing you want is to end up dead on the very night of your supposed "relaxation night"

were you gonna die?

were you about to get your guts cut and torn up?!

"now , I'll give you a few chances to guess who i am — and if you're right I might just leave you with no scratches," the person says again — it felt like a sick joke, was this just a prank? and who is this person

"are you a g-girl?" your voice trembled, trying to pinpoint who exactly was torturing you and possibly may kill you

"hmh yes! — now quick up i don't have much time" she responds her voice laced with venom daring you to go against her

you tried thinking of anyone sick enough to even do this to you, but no one came to mind — surely not sophia nor manon they were your friends and practically would die for you, yet you didn't know someone who knew you well enough to even know where you live and when your alone at that

"sophia?" you ask after a slap delivered to your thighs making you audibly gasp out of pain

"no!" she replies in a playful tone , like a child playing a game

"i uh i don't know! m-manon?" you ask yet again uncertainty tainting your voice , another hit

and then another hit , this went on for six more hits and six more wrong people

"gosh don't you know me? — i thought we were close" she said her voice was one like a defeated child which made your stomach churn

"lara?" you awaited another hit but as seconds pass nothing came , your heart dropped at the realization

"ding ding ding!" she cheers, removing the sack from your head, you were greeted by lara she looked psychotic to say the least, her hands were covered with these leather gloves meaning she left no traces on your body

"what do you want?" you ask, you both never interacted enough but you don't know if you have ever crossed her line or accidentally hurt her

"you darling" she responds her hands now on your jaw cupping it with surprising tenderness, at that moment you knew that something had to be wrong with you too , you felt comfortable yet confused with her

"I've been watching you, following you even keeping you safe— yet you never even tried to lay your eyes on me," lara says a playful pout forming on her lips

"what do you mean keeping me safe?" you ask

"oh you know... when people get too close with you it makes me angry , and a lot of people get too close to you for my liking" lara says her voice sinister

"what did you do lara" you were mad just trying to fathom what has she done

"ugh fine you're so persuasive, i bleached emily's eyes , i didnt like how much she looked at you" lara says as if it was so casual to hurt another person , you felt like puking at the thought

"why would you? do that?!" you scream, but the smile quickly fades from laras face, replaced with something more annoyed or mad even — she reaches for your jaw forcing you to look up at her as she roughly kisses you

her teeth nibble on your lower lips leaving them swollen and red — her other hand closes around your neck making you gasp for air — it makes you feel too dizzy and guilty for liking it for liking her

"thank god you're cute or else this precious neck would've been slit," she says in between breaths

her lips made their way to your neck, you lean into her letting her leave small hickeys around it — you moan silently as she explores more

"you are so perfect," she murmurs into your skin — her eyes were dazed over with desire , desire to make you hers

it was too much , you felt so dirty letting her do this , knowing what she had done to emily , and maybe to others too

yet even with that nagging feeling you didnt stop her , nothing could she was perfect and made for you

"you're enjoying this too huh?" she husks , as laras hands snake to the hem of your shirt slowly lifting it up , her hands met your breasts as she gently massages them

you gasp when she suddenly covered your head again with the same sack , you felt the knot that tied your hands loosen , when you removed it she was gone — you glance at your night table that had a note

"you're mine — don't ever forget that ♡" written using a red pen with a heart at the end

[maelstrom-of-emotions]

Could you recommend some SasuNaru fics?

SASUNARU FIC RECS

Alright, so here's a collection of some of my favorite, re-read worthy SasuNaru fics of all time. The list is bound to expand, but for now, we have these gems.

i'll let it grow wild in my veins by thunderpoint

Summary:

“That’s good, right?” He feels somewhat out of his mind. It's a rush he's not used to, something he doesn't particularly like, and it leaves him wondering if this is what he should have felt when this whole thing first started. “When your future brother-in-law says shit like that it means that he approves of you, right? Fuck, I’m getting married to Uchiha Itachi’s little brother, Shika. What the fuck-” Shikamaru’s face twists, “Naruto-” The kitchen door bursts open, and Temari steps into the living room, gaping at them both. “Naruto’s getting married?"

Status: Currently Ongoing, 11/?

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Slow Burn.

Thoughts: One of the best arranged marriage fics ever, the writing is amazing and out of this world, and if you haven't read this masterpiece what are you even doing with your life?

(You can also find the author on tumblr @thunder-point.)

2. everybody knows that you cradle the sun by Lyxxie

Summary:

“Y’know—before mom passed—she used to tell me about my dad. She'd tell me the kind of person you wanted to end up with, someone you kept around. She'd tell me about opposites, about calming the other one down and bringing them back up, about how they'd do the same for you. She'd say that you wanted someone who remembered things about you, not just the big stuff. Mundane shit that doesn't need to be remembered, but they do anyway. She'd say 'keep those who chronicle your life because it's theirs, too'." OR: Naruto challenges Sasuke to a game of “who knows the other person better.” Sasuke panics when he realizes that he might be the winner because what in the actual fuck does that mean? He doesn’t know. Naruto tells him.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Roomates, College/University. Humor. Domestic. Explicit Sexual Content.

Thoughts: A fic I would sell my soul for. You haven't lived if you haven't read this fic.

3. Waiting for an Answer by KinomiAkai

Summary:

After eight years of struggling, Naruto finally caves and confesses to Sasuke. But it's okay; nothing is going to change between them. Everything will be the same. ...The moment Sasuke stops bringing it up every twenty seconds, it'll be the same.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Roomates. Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love.

Thoughts: Sasuke is an Asshole and I am here for it.

(You can find them on tumblr @kinomiakai)

4. It's All In The Kiss (And Bondage) by Dhampir (Dhampire)

Summary:

Sasuke never looked at Naruto as anything more than an annoyance like all his other peers, but a kiss, and a little bondage, is about to change all that. Reddit Crack Fic Idea: After getting kissed in the academy and then attacked and tied up by Naruto, Sasuke realizes he has followed all the steps of the traditional Uchiha ninja courtship(An old process inspired by the kidnapping of a rival clan kunoichi). Sasuke feels really touched and starts acting like a Yandere, being really nice to Naruto in his withdrawn way and getting really mad whenever someone says something bad about Naruto.

Tags: Accidental Engagements, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Humor. Tsundere to Yandere.

Status: Completed, 11/11

Thoughts: Anything by this author is an absolute masterpiece, so do check out their other works! They manage to perfectly balance humor and fluff!

5. you and me, that's my whole world by cloudyheaven

Summary:

“If you wanted me to be your Valentine this bad, you could’ve just said so,” Naruto said. The cheeky grin he was giving him made Sasuke want to kiss him again just to wipe it off his face. However, he wasn’t one to waste a good opportunity. “That’s exactly what I want,” he said, matter-of-factly. The grin fell off Naruto’s face. “Shit, are you serious?” The one where Naruto and Sasuke have been in an unofficial friends-with-benefits arrangement for months, completely unaware of their feelings for each other.

Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Jealous Uchiha Sasuke, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentines Day, Love Confessions.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: A perfect fluffy fic for grey days. Always makes me smile whenever I read it.

6. wear my heart on your sleeve by cloudyheaven

Summary:

Sasuke coughed into his hand and simply looked down at his ass. Naruto followed his gaze and found another uchiwa sown on his left buttcheek. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” he said. “Wait, is this why people have been looking at my ass so much lately?!” He turned to look at his boyfriend again. “Is this why you have been staring at it more than normal?!” Sasuke simply avoided his gaze again. “Not like I need an excuse to look at your ass.” Or, how possessive boyfriend Uchiha Sasuke found a way to mark Naruto and make it sociably acceptable.

Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Chapter 699, Fluff and Humor, Fluff Without Plot, Soft Uchiha Sasuke.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Perfectly balanced fluff and humor fic by the godsend cloudyheaven.

7. all the small wild things by GreatLoversLieInHell

Summary:

Naruto doesn't like to be touched. Sasuke asks him why. (To be loved is to be changed)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Child Abuse, Touch-Starved Naruto.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: A fic that makes my soul ache. The author is simply amazing.

(You can also find them on Tumblr @greatloverslieinhell)

8. the vines that grow by GreatLoversLieInHell

Summary:

After getting discharged from the hospital, Naruto returns to a home that’s no longer standing. Sasuke, who doesn’t do well in cages, flees the first chance he gets. Unmoored, unsettled, Naruto looks to his motherland for answers. Uzushio calls her son home. The road to Uzushiogakure is long, but Sasuke walks it with him. Sasuke, who looks at him, hungry. Sasuke, who sees him, wherever the light gets in.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-War, Uzumaki Naruto-Centric, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Angst With Happy Ending, Uzushiogakure | Hidden Eddy Village.

Status: Completed, 14/14.

Thoughts: I shall create a shrine for this fic one day, for the adoration is not nearly enough as it deserves.

(You can also find them on Tumblr @greatloverslieinhell)

9. A Thousand Summers More by bluelikeskies

Summary:

Sasuke has seen a million sunrises, a thousand summers, but he has never seen anything like the way Naruto smiles at him, brighter than all those sunrises and summers combined.

Tags: Pining Sasuke, Soft, Prose, Mythical Beings and Creatures.

Status: Complete, 1/1.

Thoughts: Beautiful. Simply and utterly beautiful.

10. syzygy by glassedplanets

Summary:

In which Sasuke comes home, an errand needs to be run, several people tell him things, and he realizes just what home really is, for him.

Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Reunions, Homecoming, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending.

Status: Completed, 6/6.

Thoughts: Ethereal, I adore the writing style of this author.

11. kiss me (under the moonlight glow) by ashmes

Summary:

“You count what happened in the Academy as a kiss?” Naruto’s gaze snaps towards him so quick when he asks, “You don’t?”

Tags: Post-Canon, Post-War, Post Chapter 699, Soft.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: I would sacrifice anything for this fanfic. It is utterly amazing.

(You can also find them on tumblr at @sapphicvevo.)

12. Let me help you (this time) by Here_to_procrastinate

Summary:

Sasuke really kind of loves his boyfriend and wishes the idiot would start looking after himself at least a little bit. ~ After the war Naruto can't stop helping everybody and is slowely but surely running himself into the ground. With a bit of help from others Sasuke tries to finally be what Naruto needs.

Tags: Whipped Sasuke, Jealous Sasuke, Everybody Loves Naruto, Fluff, Humor, A Bit of Angst, Post-Fourth Shinobi War, Protective Shikamaru & Sakura.

Status: 1/1, Complete.

Thoughts: Perfect feel good fic.

13. Overcoming Distance by Athqh16

Summary:

It starts with a bento box. Black with a white cover and a red strap to keep it together. There was nothing actually pernicious about it except for the fact that the person who'd suddenly placed it in the middle of Naruto's lonely cafeteria table was his one and only rival, Sasuke motherfucking Uchiha

Status: 7/7, Completed.

Tags: Modern Au, Angst, Love Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Friends To Lovers.

Thoughts: An absolute classic, I adore this!

(You can also find the author on tumblr @atqh16)

14. homeward by mnee

Summary:

Sasuke returns to Konoha. Or, more accurately, to Naruto.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Chapter 699, Soft, Boys in Love.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: Utterly divine, it's so soft I want to cry.

15. a public display of affection by fiveandnocents

Summary:

In the three hours since their arrival, Gaara has stumbled across them kissing no less than seven times. Considering that they are all ninja, he is very aware that this is no coincidence. Or, five times Naruto and Sasuke get caught (plus the first time no one was around).

Tags: 5+1 Things, Possessive Sasuke, Kissing, Post-Canon, Not Boruto Canon.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: This story could not be any more perfect.

16. The Way To A Man's Heart by littledust

Summary:

Sasuke has no idea how to woo Naruto.

Tags: Fluff, Humor.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: Perfect fic for a pick-me-up. Makes me smile everytime.

17. the time traveler's husband by blind_io

Summary:

Throughout his life, Naruto travels to different moments in Sasuke’s timeline. It changes them both.

Tags: Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe, Inspired by The Time Traveler's Wife.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Brilliant. Simply and utterly brilliant.

18. The sun is too bright, it hurts by waywardfacegarden

Summary:

The first time Sasuke sees Naruto, they are six years old. Sasuke is not stupid, he learns fast, and there are three basic things about Naruto you can know after being five seconds in the same room as him: first, he’s noisy. Second, he talks a lot. Third, he’s annoying. Years later, Sasuke thinks the same, but Naruto is much more than that to him.

Tags: Childhood Friends, Enemies To Friends To Lovers, Everyone is Alive, Modern AU.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: chefs kiss Magnifique. Deserves all the kudos in the world.

19. i want you to want me (i'd love you to love me) by Aethelar

Summary:

Five times Naruto kissed Sasuke and he left, plus one time Sasuke kissed Naruto and stayed.

Tags: 5+1, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: This fic is something to live for. It is just so beautiful.

20. Red or Blue? by ReleasedFromHisCage

Summary:

Naruto took over his godfather's store so he could retire and creates a safe space for his regulars and one-time customers alike, mostly his regulars though. Sasuke Uchiha is one of these regulars.

Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Mild Hurt/Comfort.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: It's everything I've ever wanted in a fic.

21. don't stay away for too long by kintou

Summary:

With Naruto living there Sasuke's apartement has finally turned into a home. So what he doesn't quite get is that Naruto is here, in his pyjama's, telling him he's going to move out.

Tags: Modern Au, Roomates, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Breakfast.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: And they were roommates. Oh my god they were roommates. I am a puddle on the floor. This is simply too precious. It's not good for my heart.

(You can also find them on Tumblr @soft-fics)

22. Killing it by dawnstruck

Summary:

A year after Jiraiya's death, a new Icha Icha volume gets published. Self-declared Number One Fan, Hatake Kakashi, grows suspicious, but keeps buying them anyway.

Tags: Humor, Mid Crack, Mind Angst, Kakashi POV.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: From the summary to the last line this fic had me hooked. Witty and charming and just the best.

23. The Color Of Your Heart by RedRemember

Summary:

The Uchiha were blessed ninjas who possessed demon-like abilities and demon blood. Their race had been wiped out almost to extinction, but a survivor sat in Kakashi’s midst. Kakashi felt apprehensive about training such a child, not wanting to train a bloodthirsty creature how to be a better hunter. & “You’re experiencing your first heat.”, and “You’re an omega.” These were phrases his caretaker kept saying to him. Naruto felt extremely weak, but he understood one thing, and that was he would never be an alpha like Sasuke.

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Naruto, Alpha Sasuke, Personal Growth, Blood and Violence, Mating Bond.

Status: Ongoing, 7/12

Thoughts: When I tell you I hit that subscribe button so fast. Simply perfect. All my hopes wrapped into a beautiful fic.

24. Bouquet of hate by FoolishFortuna

Summary:

Sasuke confesses his feelings with an unusual bunch of flowers. Humorous fluff!

Tags: Fluff, Flowers, Humor, Getting Together, Confessions, First Kiss, Sasuke's a Dick but he's adorable.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Hilarious, sweet and amazing - a perfect fic to cheer you up on bad days, sad days or just any day in general.

25. Bare by KinomiAkai

Summary:

He's too bare. Too awake. Too used to the night and too desperate to leave it. Naruto's hand is a lifeline.

Tags: Sasuke POV, Love, Poetic, Romance, Ficlet.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Simply gorgeous, ethereal, beautiful. Short and Sweet. It's perfection to the very T.

26. Just kiss me, you idiot. by yes_iamafrog

Summary:

Ino decided to have the annual New Year's Eve party at her house. Or: Naruto and Sasuke kiss at midnight on January 1st.

Tags: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Pining, Idiots in Love, Domestic Fluff, New Year's Kiss.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: The sweetest way I have ever been destroyed.

(You can also find them here on tumblr at @whatisgrass!)

27. i love chaos, i love toxic by minttens

Summary:

Sasuke cannot handle the gossip that Naruto is in love with someone, and he makes it his mission to find out who.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Post-War, Jealous Sasuke.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: I'm gonna be honest, I cried. This fic is absolute perfection, someone please build a temple in it's name.

(Also, you need an AO3 account to read this fic!)

28. unforgivable by eloquentstars

Summary:

Lesson one in Dating Uzumaki Naruto 101 is: Never get between a man and his food.

Tags: Fluff Without Plot, Modern Au, Cute, Tooth-Rotting Fluff.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Sobbing for the tragic ending of Naruto/Pizza, but Sasuke/Naruto are too cute for me to mourn too long.

29. Blue Oceans and Summer Suns by orphan_account

Summary:

“Stop fucking lying to me.” He knows he isn’t, but it’s difficult for him to accept that it’s Naruto’s genuine feelings. “It isn’t a lie,” Naruto insists, leaning in once more to peck his lips as if to prove a point. He’s half on top of Sasuke now, who lays flat on his back staring up at him. “You should see yourself right now. You look as if you’re looking at something worth more than your own life.”

Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Sleepy Cuddles, Smitten Sasuke.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: I’m, like, one hundred percent super duper unbelievably in love with this fic.

30. Inevitablity by Sanauria_Maldhun

Summary:

Naruto's stressed and pining after a man who views him only as a friend. Deciding to get married to Ino isn't the best decision he's made (ever), given that they had been absolutely drunk while making such a declaration, but it's... a decision. Besides, what does he have to lose?

Tags: Background Sakura/Ino, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mutual Pining, Angst, Jealous Sasuke, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Status: Completed, 4/4.

Thoughts: It's like a cup of coffee/tea that perfectly hits the spot. I love this fic, I've re-read this so many times and it always make me feel. I love Ino & Naruto's friendship.

31. Armistice by surveycorpsjean

Summary:

Sasuke is still here. Or maybe; love hasn't passed them yet.

Tags: Fix-It, Getting Together, Pining, Takes Place Three Years After The Boruto Movie, Where Naruto Gets Divorced and Sasuke never gets married.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: Best of the best. Like, the best.

32. speak now or forever hold your peace by frogsterz

Summary:

Will the ceremony be over by the time Sasuke makes it back? Is the news even accurate? Maybe Naruto’s not getting married, he’s getting…carried, somewhere. On a palanquin. Or he’s getting buried. No, that’s worse. (Sasuke is convinced by a passing rumour that the love of his life, Uzumaki Naruto, is about to throw the biggest and most extravagant wedding ceremony in Konoha's history...but he's not the groom. How could such a disaster have happened to him?)

Tags: Misunderstandings, Idiots in Love, Sasuke Has The Emotional Intelligence of a Wet Loaf of Bread, Post-Canon, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: These idiots, I love 'em to death.

33. symbol of the uchiha by humdrum_hummingbird

Summary:

Sasuke can't sleep, which, even after the war, is pretty typical. Instead, he stays up and watches Naruto sleep, and tonight, like most nights, Naruto is wearing a shirt with the Uchiha fan emblazoned on the back. You can't really blame Sasuke for being a little possessive after everything they've been through.

Tags: Sasuke Returns To Konoha, Possessive Sasuke, Naruto is a Ray of Sunshine, Comfort No Hurt, Soft Fluff, Boys in Love.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: This is so soft and gentle and tender I'm crying.

34. Final Destination by chaosxxx

Summary:

“The future is never set in stone. Even the smallest decision can alter its course. One action, be it accidental or intentional, can result in you meeting the love of your life! Or it can leave you alone and miserable… or dead. What I have here in front of you are the cards that show what lies at the end of each broad road.” There's a festival in Konoha, and Sasuke and Sakura visit a fortune telling booth. They just wanted a bad palm reading, not this disturbingly accurate nonsense! (SasuNaru fic. Pre-timeskip. Happy Ending)

Tags: Fortune Telling, Humor, Romance, Happy Ending, Confused Naruto, Pining Sasuke, Flirting, Cute.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: Everyone needs this fortune teller. Where can I meet her? Simply amazing and precious. Confused Naruto is just so adorable.

35. You Taste Like Coffee by itadakimasu

Summary:

All Sasuke really wanted was his nightly caffeine fix. How did it turn into this?

Tags: Coffee AU, Barista!Naruto, Confident!Sasuke, Oneshot, Sexual Content, Cute, Fluff.

Status: Completed, 1/1.

Thoughts: Perfect, like a good cup of coffee. Kicking my feet giggling throughout the entire thing.

36. Curiosity killed a cat by LydiaClairvoyanne

Summary:

Naruto realizes Sasuke behaves like a cat, and in his last attempt to make friends with the Uchiha, he tries to treat him like he would a scared, lone, traumatized, stray kitten. (I wonder what can go wrong with a plan like this.) (Nothing, the answer is. Nothing, because the plan works.)

Tags: Sasuke Behaves Like A Cat, Naruto Notices This And Treats Him Like One, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Angst, Sleepy Cuddles, Traumatized Boys, Soft Boys.

Status: Completed, 13/13

Thoughts: One of the best fics, it manages to give such a good character study without even trying. I love this fic, I would like to marry it.

37. in his arms by loverofgaydragons

Summary:

Naruto was there the night Sasuke left Konoha.

Tags: Angst, No Happy Ending, Hurt No Comfort.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: I sobbed so hard while reading this. It's just so beautiful, it's so beautifully written, it make me choke on sobs, I had to clean my glasses due to the tears, it's amazing. A heartbreak that hurts so good I will let it continue.

38. Time to Smile by hinata22

Summary:

Sasuke is on the verge of leaving the village forever. Naruto has other ideas.

Tags: Boys Kissing, Confession, Happy Ending.

Status: Complete, 1/1

Thoughts: If you thought the last one was sad, here's a happier version. I read this fic back when I didn't have an AO3 account and would desperately keep the tab open as to not lose it. This fic is heartbreaking in it's beauty and lifting in it's sweet moments. A blessing, this fic is a true blessing.

39. The Master Plan of An Uchiha Husband-To-Be by Watermelonsmellinfellon

Summary:

Uchiha Sasuke is determined to marry his new best friend Naruto so he can share his family with the blond boy. He'll be the best husband ever and Naruto won't want for anything ever again!

Tags: Humor, First Crush, Pre-Relationship, No Uchiha Massacre, Fluff.

Status: Complete, 2/2.

Thoughts: Simply adorable, from start to finish.

40. Unrequited: sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't by KizuKatana

Summary:

Naruto hates to hurt people's feelings. So when Hinata puts him on the spot about dating her, he doesn't want to come straight out and tell her he doesn't like her that way. Instead, he comes up with a poorly thought out idea to tell her he is dating someone already. All he needs to do to convince her is to show her a photo of the guy. He just needs to get a picture of someone so ridiculously hot she will know it's hopeless. He actually has someone in mind, a guy he'd had a one-sided thing for from his gym. Although, the guy is sort of an ass and probably wouldn't agree to posing for a picture. Naruto decides to ask him anyway. What's he got to lose?

Tags: Fluff, Unrequited Love Or Is It?, Humor, Cute.

Status: Completed, 1/1

Thoughts: Absolute blast, had a lot of fun reading this!

Aight, that's it for now.