#and in game... him saying well that was easy! and just CLOSING UP. locking down. pretending it's all solved now

[milkywayes]

what's your preferred choice for garrus' loyalty mission? i love that mission a lot...on one hand i want shepard to trust garrus' judgement the way he trusts hers, and when you push him about killing sidonis he points out the people sidonis got killed, and the unfairness of him getting to walk away. on the other hand he is so upset and acts so aggressively during the mission. even tho i do watch him beat up harkin everytime without interfering LOL. harkin had it coming (and it's hot shhh) it's more that garrus is obviously devastated and probably not thinking straight. i do love how shepard and he can argue it out and how much pain he's in for his percieved failure on omega, and his need to find justice. and how much it pains him that there may be a grey area where justice is not clear

My Shepard doesn’t go into the mission expecting to interfere. 

She has her concerns, but ultimately if Garrus asks for her help, her number one goal is to give it. On this suicide mission, he is more than her lieutenant. They both experienced recent, traumatic upheaval, and he is the only thing left that she can derive comfort from, even when he’s not quite the man that she knew. He’s volunteered for her mission, her suicide run, and the least she can do is return the favor and help tie up his one loose end. There might even be a little voice in her head that says, this is the source of his pain and everything about him that’s off and unfamiliar to her, and once it’s excised, she’ll have her crew-mate back how he was.

But then they’re on the mission, and he is less himself than she’s ever seen him. They’re on the mission and he is breaking apart. And she learns exactly how much his team meant to him, and there is no way to forget for even a moment that Sidonis was one of them too.

If he had kept his cool throughout, not let anyone see the emotional state he was in, she would have let him put a bullet in that turian’s head. 

She’s a commander; she understands the position he was in and what he owes his team. She doesn’t give a shit about Sidonis. They’ve all killed people for less. But when Garrus asks her, what would you do if someone betrayed you? Sold out her squad; her friends, for personal gain—betrayed their common goal—left them there to die—

She’d want that vengeance too. But she is far enough removed from that scenario to know that she’d wish someone would take that responsibility from her hands. That dealing with that particular loose end is not something that should be her task. That vigilante justice is well and good until it gets personal, and that as commander, the traitor would have been her subordinate too.

Killing a subordinate and worse, a friend, in cold blood is not something that you can come back from. It’ll stay with you for the rest of your days. Justice served—and you’re the one who pays for it to happen. Every time you close your damn eyes. The exploding head of a person you once swore to look out for.

The price is steep. She doesn’t want to see Garrus pay it. That death, and the deaths of his squad—of his idealism, his dreams—that trail behind it like offal would be an open wound forever. If she interferes, he can be angry at her for breaching his trust and crossing that boundary, but at least he would be hating someone other than himself. 

It’s not really her place. There are turian social mores and particularities at play here that she can’t even pretend to understand beyond simple keywords like loyalty and accountability. It might destroy their relationship and leave her all alone on that facsimile of a ship again. But on this suicide mission, Garrus is more than her lieutenant, and he’s more than just a comforting presence too. 

He’d have to be a hell of a lot more for her to willingly place her skull between the muzzle of his prized sniper rifle and the target that gives him tunnel vision and a twitchy trigger finger.

And he must be, because that’s exactly what she does.

[moon-fics]

Pepper Spray Lovers

Pairings: Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: You're a well-known bartender at the Hard Deck and friends with most of the pilots who enter through the doors. However, you've caught the eye of one specific weapon systems operator.

A/n: I'm going to need a break after this one. Holy shit.

It was the same every night for you. Serve drinks, clean cups, chat with pilots, and never give out your number. It was a loop that you found comforting and easy to follow. At the Hard Deck, there was a guaranteed safety with the amount of trained pilots around.

You never have to memorize names because the call signs they have are way too ridiculous to forget. They stand out, and based on their personality, you can match them easily. For Hangman, you chalk it up to him always talking to a woman at the bar, but never taking her home. For Rooster, it's because his mustache sometimes looks like a beak to a bird.

You treat each customer the same and smile when they order. You highly doubt any of them know your name, but why should they? You serve them drinks, and they pay their tab. That's all you need or want from them.

"Can I get a water?" A soft voice asks from behind you. You're cleaning a pile of cups while Penny takes orders. You aren't supposed to be bothered, but you assume Penny is busy. You can fetch some water and return back to your cleaning.

Without even looking at the person who ordered, you grab a clean cup and fill it with water from the water dispenser. You spin around and place the cup on the bar top. You only look up for a second but you immediately stop on him.

It's his smile that catches you off guard. It's almost silly how adorable a Top Gun pilot can look by just smiling. His hair is gelled back neatly, and his glasses are a little lower than where they should be.

"Thank you," He nods while taking the glass. His fingers graze yours, and you realize you're still holding the cup. Your hand flinches away automatically. "Busy night?"

You force yourself to speak because you cannot just stare at him. "Yeah, it's definitely busier than usual," You say while clearing your throat. He nods and takes a sip of his water. "There must be something huge happening for so many Top Gun pilots to be here." You glance around the room to see it practically filled with people wearing navy uniforms.

"I'd tell you if I could," He chuckles. "I'm Bob," He holds out his free hand to shake. You gladly take it, and there's a shiver that goes up your spine at how nice his arms look. Before you can respond, someone is calling him over. He gives a little wave as he parts from you.

Throughout the night, you catch him staring at you. Usually, you'd find it creepy or enough to cut him off, so he leaves. Instead, you try to catch him. It gives you some enjoyment to watch when he nervously looks away after getting caught. After a while, he understands the game and begins playing along.

--

It's closing time, and by now, everyone has left, including Penny. The beach waves are all you hear as you check the register and count the cash left over. There's still a smell of alcohol in the air, but it's mixed with salt and sunscreen.

After shutting the register and turning off the lights, you lock the doors. Right as you pull the key out, you hear rustling. No one should be out this late on base. So, either you have a wild animal nearby or someone is stalking you. Either way, it could mean trouble.

Silently and slowly, you reach for your pepper spray. You unlock the safety feature and press your thumb over the top of it. The rustling gets louder, and your body trembles from anxiety.

"Do you need someone to walk you to your car?" A familiar voice rings from behind you. On instinct, you swing around and aim the spray at them. "Hey, hey, wait!" The person yells while putting their hands up in surrender.

Your eyes adjust to the darkness to see Bob standing in front of you. You don't put the pepper spray down, but you remove your thumb from it.

"What are you doing? That was so scary!" You scold. One corner of his lips turns up in a half smile that is still charming.

"I just wanted to make sure you got home alright," He explains. He lowers his hands and puts one in his pocket. He looks concerned that you're going to spray him anyway, but you decide not to. "It's late, and I know that sometimes it can be dangerous on base." He mumbles.

"So, you waited out here for me to close up? It's been like an hour since I saw you leave the bar." You raise an eyebrow. There's no way he waited that long for you.

"I waited," He admits with a nod. You suck in your cheeks at how honest he is. It's refreshing but also a bit odd. "Sorry that I scared you. I thought you heard me walking up to you." He chuckles to himself.

"It's alright. Just, next time, announce yourself or maybe wear a bell." You smile.

He pushes his glasses up his nose, "I'll think about tying a bell around my belt next time."

"Next time?" You tease. You aren't sure what he means by it, because it could simply be a joke. You don't know if he'll be back at the bar because sometimes people show up once and never return.

He seems caught off guard by your repeating his words. "I mean, it's a popular bar. It's the best one on base, so I just assumed I'd come back," He clarifies while scratching at the top of his lip nervously.

"Would you walk me to my car every time?" His eyes practically twinkle at your question. As if your offer has brought a genuine joy inside him. "You did say it's dangerous on base at night."

"I'll walk you to your car as many times as you'd allow."

It takes longer than you expect to get home. Mostly because you're enchanted into a conversation with Bob way past curfew. Once you walk through your door, you get a sense of excitement for your next shift.

--

The music is loud, and so are the pilots. After a long day of training and sweating their asses off they've returned to the bar. Not that you mind anymore.

You get to continue your favorite game with Bob as he plays pool. Every time he makes a shot, he looks for you to see if you saw. When he gets a ball in one of the pockets, he waves. When he scratches, he talks to you until his turn again.

This continues until the end of the night, until he walks you to your car.

[grimmsbride]

▒ ❀ ̭͡⠀ ❛ SOME ENCOURAGEMENT. NAM-GYU / PLAYER 124

nam-gyu attempts to recruit beloved, timid reader into thanos’s world. all it takes is a little encouragement.

𖥔 ࣪˖ TAGS, nam-gyu is a little pushy (but everything is consensual between him and reader) | unconsensual voyuerism (again everyone is asleep but i don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable) | ooc characters (first time writing for nam-gyu) | minor degradation & praise (+humiliation(?)) | use of the words slut, good girl, etc. | fingering | minor dacryphilia | just a silly little imagine | nam-gyu is lowkey manipulative | reader is a freak with a thing for fingers/hands | etc.

𖥔 ࣪˖ NOTES, writing smut on company time is actually hilarious, idk why i got this idea during work. but anywho — i hope you enjoy, i tried my hand at his character. as always please ignore any grammar mistakes or typos.

Imagine Nam-Gyu attempting to recruit someone without the advice of his beloved purple-haired leader. Surprising, right? Despite his own issues with inferiority; the ex-club worker just seems to follow behind Thanos like a hungry puppy desperate for a bone— or drugs, for that matter. But no, just this once, Nam-Gyu takes the lead. The numbers are growing closer and even more scarce, fear lacing people’s minds and causing them to hit that dreaded X button. Thanos’s World’s dream is to continue the games to pay off their debts, right?— so it only made sense for Nam-Gyu to turn an X over to the O side.

He couldn’t just pick anyone. Someone far too strong-willed would definitely tell him no, and someone far too weak would just be a curse rather than a blessing.

Who to choose.. Who to choose..

Soon enough the man’s eyes are locking on to you— a contestant he has seen around, yet hasn’t heard much from. Not only were you easy on the eyes but you just seemed like the perfect person to shape into a worthy teammate.

Within minutes he’s approaching you, an easy-going smile in place as your name falls from his lips. Nam-Gyu had heard it said before by someone close to you, another random that he hadn’t bother to think about.

“Yes..?” Your words are slow, lips pursing as you take in the man before you. You were beyond nervous; this was the lackey of that purple-haired lunatic after all. Watching the two fight on the very first day was enough to tell you to avoid them at all costs. Yet here you were, a few feet away from one of them, under his gaze that trailed over you like a pretty piece of jewelry behind a display case.

You couldn’t help but bring your hands closer to yourself, teeth dragging across your cheek nervously.

From your head to your toes, Nam-Gyu’s eyes soon landed on that big red patch residing just under your bosom. With a breathy chuckle he reached over, allowing a single finger to press and trace the X.

“You wanna get out of the games that bad, huh? You voted X twice already.”

Your eyes flicked down to his hand, before traveling back to his face. “Yeah well..” You dragged slowly, watching that harsh gaze return to your features.

“I—I want to get rid of my debts.. but putting my life on the line for it just seems..” You hoped you got your words across perfectly, even without continuing your sentence. Sure, it was hard being hounded for your debts, but death looming over your head just didn’t seem worth it.

Still, Nam-Gyu only shook his head at you, a sigh full of pity escaping his lips.

“Well, that’s where you’re messing up.” Nam-Gyu hummed, stepping just a bit closer, finger still tracing that damned patch. Your attention kept flicking between his face and finger, wondering why exactly warmth was pooling throughout your entire body.

“Worrying too much about dying is what’s gonna get you killed, not anything else.”

Your eyebrows knitted close, a look of confusion plastered across your face. Worrying seemed like the right way to keep yourself alive.. right? Not worrying just seemed, well— stupid. Not that you would say that to his face, obviously.

“I have to disagree..”

Just barely did you hear the sound of the man sucking his teeth, watching the way his face turned to the side, clearly searching for his next few words. You debated on walking away from this conversation, it was clear what his objective was. And whether ordered by Thanos or not, you didn’t really want to know— nor figure out.

Yet for some reason you were practically glued to the spot, blinking up at him and waiting oh, so patiently for his next spiel. And as you watched his face turn back to you, your breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay then.. worry all you want, but you wouldn’t you want someone to look out for you?” Nam-Gyu’s other hand was reaching to your patch at this point, using both thumbs to trace it. “Being on this side, there’s no unity.. it’s every person for themself.”

The two of you locked eyes, a sickeningly sweet smile crossing his face.

“Come with us, and we’ll look after you. I’ll personally see to it too.”

Slowly did your teeth sink into your bottom lip, struggling to maintain the eye contact that he seemed so keen on keeping. The only thing you could hear was your racing heart and the gentle sounds of his thumbs sliding across that red patch. His words were.. tempting. You wondered if he rehearsed what to say, like a video game with multiple endings; did he have it all figured out before he even walked over? Was he so prepared to convert you, using every rejection you had as some silly obstacles the man easily hobbled over?

So caught up in your thoughts, you hardly realized Nam-Gyu had gotten even closer until his breath fanned across your ear in a simple;

I’ll let you think it over, let’s talk again later..

When you thought of later, you initially believed in thirty mins or so. Maybe this time he would bring over his beloved leader to really get the point across. But no, later seemed to be during lights out; when you all should be sleeping, tucked away in the rare bliss these murderous games brought.

And the only talking that was happening was the soft words Nam-Gyu continued to whisper into your ear and the even softer moans of passion that slipped from your swollen lips.

See, Nam-Gyu wasn’t an idiot despite what Thanos seems to think. Quickly he caught on to two things whilst speaking to you.

The first being, you were quite cute when nervous. And two, you just loved looking at his hands.

So what better way to really stretch his point across but using his beloved fingers to stretch you open just how he liked?

“Should have done this from the start, look how cooperative you’re being..” The smile on Nam-Gyu’s face was permanent at this point, the corner of his mouth twitching with each pitiful moan you released. His rings were tossed lazily to the side, his bare fingers now pushing into your sloppy cunt so perfectly. Longer then your own, they pushed and prodded; opening you up and rubbing against your soaked walls. With each breath you were clenching, causing the smile on his face to only grow deeper.

“Scared of dying but not of some stranger finger-fucking you, huh? What a joke.”

You wanted to tell him off, how he was so mean and so wrong. But you couldn’t, not with how your mind was getting complete lost from his movements. Your teeth were grinding into your bottom lip, a metallic taste filling your mouth as time progressed. Deep moans thundered from your throat, muffled by your harsh biting. You couldn’t imagine having your little recruitment interrupted by some poor contestant just trying to get some rest.

But with the way Nam-Gyu was practically ruining you, it didn’t seem he cared much either way. He was so hellbent on coaxing you, his lips right against your ear as that damned thumb came and circled your swollen bud.

“I told you I’d look after you right, where’s my thank you?”

Your eyes widened the moment his free hand rose, pushing at your cheeks and basically forcing your lips to part. The sound you let out was a strangled mix of a moan and gasp, quickly clasping your own hand against your mouth.

Nam-Gyu chuckled on his breath, thrusting a third finger into your wet cunt as he spoke; “What? You scared of the other contestants realizing how much of a slut you are? Shouldn’t worry too much; this messy cunt is making enough noise for you.”

Your eyes were meeting the back of your skull, so fucking mean he was— yet you couldn’t help but enjoy the attention. His digits were curling inside, brushing across that special spot that caused you to shake. Your thighs were clenching harshly around his arm, rushed breaths escaping as your chest rose and fell.

“Th—thank you.. fuck— please…!” You whimpered as softly as you possibly could, glossy eyes staring up at the man. You felt accomplished the moment he drew closer, feeling the cold metal of his chain brush against your heated skin before a gentle kiss was pressed right against your cheek.

“What a good girl.. You wanna come, hm?” The hand was lowering to your throat, fingers simply wrapping around it yet not squeezing. Nam-Gyu watched in pure enjoyment at the way your head tossed back and forth in a rushed nod; how needy you were for him. What a palpable little thing, is what he thought.

“I can make that happen, you just gotta do something for me.”

More words, whispered, tempting; drifting right into your ear and hitting the same pleasurable spots right between your legs. Speaking of, you felt your peak drawing closer; a tight band resting deep in your tummy— ready to burst.

You knew what he wanted, you weren’t an idiot nor were you too fucked out to forget. Your mind was screaming at you, telling you an orgasm wasn’t worth pressing that cursed button.

Yet, for now, you weren’t thinking with your brain, but with your pussy instead.

“P—please let me join! I’ll press the button— I promise!” Another whisper-yell escaped you, desperation clinging to every word as they fled those pretty lips.

With that final confirmation Nam-Gyu was quickening the pace of his fingers, eating up the way your body convulsed, a lost look invading your eyes as you came undone. Your essence trickled down his fingers all the way to his wrist, a sticky residue that he would make sure you clean up later.

For now.. his hand rose from your throat to instead cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb right under your eye so tenderly— so sweetly.

“I knew you could do it.. just needed some encouragement, right?”

[starsenha]

CHALLENGE / N.R

Pairing ◊ reader x bf!riki

Genre ◊ established relationship, suggestive

Warnings ◊ kinda heavy make out sesh, marking, lots of cursing, lowk dom riki

Word count ◊ around 2k

Summary ◊ you saw a challenge on tiktok and wanted to try with your boyfriend

a/n: literally saw someone doing that on tiktok and thought of riki immediately. not proofread, enjoy!

You had been dating Riki for a few months now, and to say he was confident would be an understatement. Riki was cocky, always walking with that proud smirk plastered on his face, the kind that could make anyone fall for him. He was also playful—a tease in every way possible, constantly challenging you, whether it was playful banter, jokes, or that look in his eyes that always seemed to suggest he had something up his sleeve.

One lazy afternoon, you were scrolling through TikTok when you came across a viral trend that caught your attention. The challenge was simple: couples stared at each other, their faces close enough that they could kiss—but they didn’t. You couldn't help but smirk to yourself as you imagined Riki’s reaction. This challenge had him written all over it. You could already picture how smug he’d be, certain he wouldn’t give in.

You lifted your phone and called out to him. "Riki."

He was sitting on the couch, lazily flipping through channels. His sharp eyes flicked up to meet yours. "Hmm?" His voice was deep, casual, almost bored, but the way he looked at you made your heart flutter.

"I want to try something." You walked over and sat next to him, holding up your phone. His brows raised slightly in curiosity.

"Oh?" he asked, that familiar cocky grin spreading across his lips. "What is it this time? Another dance challenge?" His tone was teasing, like he was ready to poke fun at you.

"Not exactly," you replied, leaning closer. "It's a challenge where we stare at each other, faces close, but we don’t kiss. You think you can handle it?"

Riki’s grin widened. He laughed softly, shaking his head. "You really think I can’t hold back?" His tone was full of confidence, and he leaned back on the couch, spreading his arms lazily.

"You up for it, or are you scared?" you teased, knowing full well he’d never back down from any challenge.

He narrowed his eyes, then straightened up and leaned in closer, eyes flicking to your lips for a brief second. "I’m never scared. You’re on."

You positioned your phone to record, setting it on the coffee table. The camera captured both of you as you leaned in, faces inches apart. The air between you felt charged, thick with the tension of anticipation.

At first, Riki was calm, relaxed, his eyes locking with yours with ease. His usual smirk lingered, as if he was already claiming victory. "This is too easy," he muttered, voice dripping with arrogance.

But as the seconds passed, his gaze slowly changed. His eyes darkened, and his smirk faltered just a little. You could see the flicker in his gaze—the way it wavered slightly before it dropped to your lips. You raised an eyebrow, daring him to give in.

"You’re staring, Riki," you whispered playfully, a soft challenge in your tone.

His jaw clenched, that confidence suddenly faltering. "I’m just looking," he retorted, voice a little huskier than before. You could feel the shift in the air between you. What started as a game had quickly turned into something else. His breaths were getting shallow, and you could see the tension building in his muscles as he fought the urge to close the gap.

"You sure?" you asked softly, your voice almost teasing as you leaned in just a fraction closer. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your lips, and you swore you saw his eyes darken even more, his pupils blown wide.

Riki’s eyes flicked up from your lips to meet yours again. His smirk was gone now. He licked his lips, his composure cracking. Finally. "You’re fucking with me," he muttered, his voice rough.

"That’s the point," you whispered, barely holding back a grin.

And then, just as you thought he might break, his hand shot out, grabbing your phone. Without even glancing away from you, he stopped the recording, tossing the phone aside with a dismissive flick of his wrist.

"Fuck the challenge," he growled, and before you could even process his words, he crashed his lips against yours.

The kiss was intense, desperate. His lips were hard and demanding, like he had been holding back for far too long. You gasped against his mouth, your hands instinctively reaching out to grip his shirt as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer.

He wasn’t gentle, not in the slightest. His kisses were rough, full of need, as if he was trying to claim you, to erase the teasing tension you had built up between the two of you. His tongue parted your lips, and you couldn’t help but moan softly, overwhelmed by the heat of the moment.

"Fuck," he muttered between kisses, his voice low and laced with a kind of frustration that made your heart race. "You’re such a tease, you know that?"

You barely had time to respond before his lips were on yours again, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, deeper into the kiss. His other hand slid down your waist, gripping your hip tightly, possessively.

"All this time," he growled, breaking away just enough to speak, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, "acting all innocent, and you think you can play with me like that?"

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but before you could respond, he kissed you again, harder this time, his tongue sliding against yours, sending a rush of heat through your body. Every kiss felt desperate, like he was trying to make up for the restraint he had shown just moments before.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were swollen, and his eyes were dark with desire. He stared at you, his breath ragged, and you could see the way he was barely holding himself back from diving in again.

Without warning, his hands gripped your hips firmly, his strong fingers digging into your sides as he guided you over him. His movements were fluid, confident. In one swift motion, he pulled you onto his lap, and you could feel his strength beneath you as he settled you across his thighs. His hands didn’t let go, though—they held you there, tight, possessive.

"Come here," he muttered, voice thick with desire. His tone left no room for argument. His eyes bore into yours as he pulled you in closer, his legs spreading slightly beneath you so he could adjust your position, making sure you were right where he wanted you—straddling him, your knees pressed into the couch on either side of his hips.

Your body reacted instinctively, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. His eyes flicked down to your lips again, lingering, but this time there was no hesitation, no teasing restraint. He reached up, his fingers brushing your jaw before tangling in your hair, guiding your face closer until your lips met his.

The kiss was fierce—more intense than before. It was as though pulling you into his lap had unleashed something in him. His lips moved against yours with a kind of desperation, his tongue sweeping past your lips, claiming you fully. You couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped, the sensation overwhelming as his hands roamed up and down your sides, pulling you impossibly closer.

Riki’s grip tightened as he deepened the kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, sending a shock of heat through your body. "Fuck," he groaned against your lips, breaking away just for a second to catch his breath, but his forehead remained pressed against yours. His hands slid down to your waist, fingers digging in as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of you in his lap.

"You feel so damn good," he muttered, voice low and rough, almost as if he was speaking more to himself than to you. But you heard him clearly, and the raw need in his voice sent a thrill rushing through you.

Your hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breathing, his heartbeat pounding beneath your palms. You leaned in again, capturing his lips with yours, this time with just as much intensity, your body pressing against him fully as you kissed him deeply. The taste of him was intoxicating, and the way he responded to every touch only made the heat between you grow.

Riki's hands roamed your body freely now, one hand slipping under the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your waist. His touch was firm, yet the way his thumb lazily caressed your skin sent shivers down your spine. He pulled you tighter against him, guiding your hips to press against his. You could feel how much he wanted you, you could feel it underneath you.

"You're driving me fucking insane," he breathed against your mouth before capturing your lips again in a kiss that was nothing short of hungry. His hand slipped further up your back, under your shirt, his fingertips trailing over your skin in a way that made you arch into him.

"Riki," you gasped softly as his lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, leaving a trail of heated kisses along your skin. He chuckled against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear before biting down gently, enough to make you gasp.

"You like that?" he whispered, his voice rough and teasing. His lips ghosted over your skin as he continued to kiss his way down your neck, his hands never stopping their slow exploration of your body.

You nodded, biting your lip as you tugged at his shirt, wanting to feel more of him. Your hips shifted instinctively in his lap, and the low groan that rumbled from his chest sent a shockwave of heat through you.

His hand slipped back down to your hip, his grip tightening as he guided your movements, pressing you harder against him. "Fuck," he groaned, his breath hot against your skin. "You're such a fucking tease, and you don’t even know it."

You couldn't hold back your response, your voice coming out in a breathy whisper. "I think you’re the one teasing."

He paused for just a second, pulling back to look at you, his lips curled into a wicked grin. "Oh, I’m just getting started." His eyes were dark. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against yours, but this time he didn’t kiss you immediately.

Instead, he whispered, "I could kiss you like this all night." His voice was a low growl, full of raw need, and the way he spoke sent shivers down your spine. "But you know what I want even more?"

You swallowed hard, breathless as you stared into his eyes, feeling the weight of his words. "What?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he growled softly, "I want to hear you beg for it."

His words sent a shock through you, and you couldn’t help the way your body responded, pressing harder against him. The heat between you was overwhelming now, and your mind was spinning, caught up in the intensity of the moment. But Riki didn’t stop. He tilted your head slightly, his lips returning to your neck as he nipped at your skin, leaving a trail of marks down your throat, each one making you gasp.

"Come on, baby," he muttered against your skin. "Say it."

Your breath hitched, your mind racing as his hands continued their slow, torturous exploration of your body, his lips never leaving your neck. "Riki," you gasped, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone the words he wanted to hear.

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "That’s not what I asked for."

Finally, you broke, your voice breathy and desperate as you whispered, "Please, just… kiss me."

In that instant, his lips were back on yours, kissing you fiercely, as if he had been waiting for those words. His hands tightened their grip on your hips, guiding your movements as you ground against him, his lips never leaving yours.

"That’s my girl," he muttered against your mouth before kissing you harder, deeper, pulling you completely into him as the heat between you built to a fever pitch.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Can we have more of “Demon and Angel Brat”? I love those demon twins so much, also I’m wondering how the Phantom family is hadling this, are Sam and Tucker also in to this? Does Jazz approves this prank? (Wondering how Dani or Dan will fut in this too)

Danny gets a phone call.

Damian knew his brother's real life would eventually burst the bubble on their fun, but he was not expecting it to be broken this soon into their prank.

The Fentons, of course, knew of their little joke and had been fine with having to speak to Danny in secret. Since their cover story was that Danny was too sick to be anything but support for the Bats- and even then, he would sometimes head to bed early if he wasn't feeling well- it was easy to find a little corner of the Manor for Danny to call home. Though that was usually at three in the morning, the Fentons didn't seem to mind.

Mr. and Mrs. Fenton even gave ideas to have Danny act out in order to scare the Waynes. Mr. Fenton's favorite was making Drake panic by making Danny suggest they do "Dark Magic" then have it turn out to be harmless fun.

Like claiming to want to make love potions for Dowd and then just making some homemade juice for the teenager. Drake looked like he was having a heart attack when Danny busted out potion bottles and edible glitter.

Mrs Fenton, on the other hand, wanted to focus more on logical details. She asked Danny to make wild claims about what he was allowed to do in the Manor. Since Danny supposedly didn't go out much, she felt that he needed to create great memories around the Manor, and thus Danny convinced whoever happened to be walking by to play games with him.

Thomas had pushed Danny on an office chair for almost four hours while his brother pretended to be an airplane pilot. Damian had later seen Thomas, Brown, and Cain pretending to be a prince and two princess trapped at the top of the stairs as if they were locked away in a tower while Danny fought imaginary knights down below.

He thinks Cain only went along with it because she got to wear a big puffy pink dress. Father had ordered costumes for Danny to play with after his brother got back from the history museum with Todd.

Damian knows Todd and Father were also still attempting to pressure the history museum into installing fake historical events that Danny made up. It wasn't going well, but they were making a decent effort.

Still all this fun had only been over the course of two weeks and that seemed to be far too long for Danny's friends.

Thus, the phone call arrived in the middle of dinner with the entire family twisting towards the "sick" twin. Danny stared at this phone, looking as if he had forgotten it could ring before he clicked the call to connect.

""Excuse me I need to take this." He held it up to his ear while standing from table. "Hey Tuck. What's up?"

Damian watches his brother walk out of the room, tugging along his gas tank and heart pack like it was second nature. The large dining room door closes behind him with a soft click, and a few blissful of seconds follow, before everyone starts demanding answers.

"Who's Tuck?" Ricard accused as Damian dabbed his mouth with napkin "Why is this Tuck calling Danny?"

Now Damian could say the truth, could make it easier on his brother and the family, even he liked a laugh every once in a while. After all he was a twin to a mischievous prankster.

"Tuck, is Danny's ridiculous nickname for Tucker Foley. He's Danny's ex" Damian revealed with a hand wave. The family's faces darken (except for Cain and Alfred. One because she knows he's lying, and the other because he thinks it's healthy to date) "Danny broke up with him after their summer fling, and now Foley is dating their other friend, Samantha Manson. Between you and I, Foley and Manson are carrying a torch for Danny and are likely attempting to include them in a throuple."

"I want everything you can find on Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson," Father snaps at Drake, who already had his tablet out and typing a storm on his travel keyboard. Thankfully, Danny had gotten Gordon to fake a Gotham tech camp so his two friends could visit him in the city soon.

It was so Damian could get to know his friends and so that all three could have a break from ghost hunting, but this would be entertaining to watch.

Damian sips his tea, watching Brown and Todd hiss threats under their breaths while Thomas actively cracks his knuckles. He only did that when he was feeling particularly violent.

Drake lets out a noise that he has only ever heard him make when he's about to blow up a building. He twists his tablet around, banging his other hand on the tabletop aggressively. "Bruce, I think things with Foley were more serious than is appropriate for Danny. He's only fourteen!"

It took every ounce of his training not to burst out laughing. On Drake's tablet is a photo of Danny and Foley cuddling while asleep on the floor. It was posted by Manson with the caption "We made some interesting discoveries tonight!"

He knows she meant the purple back gorilla, but the poor girl just didn't have a way with words like she thought she did.

It's that moment that Danny wanders back in, wearing his normal bright and innocent smile. "Tucker and Sam are coming to Gotham. They want to hang out with me at Lover's Lane!"

Damian slams a hand over his mouth, just barely stopping himself from spewing his tea across the table as his family bristles. Lover's Lane was the best spot in all of Gotham to see the city's lights and had some of the best public gardens. A sight people from a small town like Amity Park would adore to see.

It also earned the nickname Lover's Lane for a very obvious reason, but Damian feels Danny has forgotten that part.

"You are not-"

"-Going to want to meet them wearing the same old clothes. Why don't I take you shopping after you finish eating Master Danny" Alfred cuts father off mid rant, sending everyone a stern glare when the family's all look ready to argue "After all, if your friends who clearly remember how much fun they have with you, it would be a pity to have them erase those good memories with a wardrobe malfunction."

Damian should tell his father to give that man a raise.

[charmedimsure]

PARTNERS IN (BUSTING) CRIME || hwang jun-ho

pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x f!reader

summary: You bond with your new partner Jun-ho

word count: 2.5k

warnings: drinking. i think that's it

A/N: gotta write something with my OG squid game boy 🫶. if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

You smirk as a motorcycle rounds the corner, holding a man without a helmet and a girl on the back. "This one's all your's, newbie."

He sighs, a small grin on his face. "You know, I've been a cop longer than you have."

"Well, you're new here, so that makes you the newbie." You practically push him out of the squad car.

Jun-ho rolls his eyes, approaching the pulled over vehicle. "You're not wearing a helmet. Your license, please."

"Damn it," the man groans. "Isn't this entrapment? Hiding to catch people is shady. You want to squeeze money out of broke citizens?"

"Your license, please."

The man hands it over. You watch as the girl behind him gets off the bike.

"Hold on." She walks up to your partner. "Look can't you just let us go. I'm wearing one."

Jun-ho looks at her. "No, ma'am."

The girl smiles at him, bending to get a better look at his face from under his hat. "Hey, you're really hot."

You nearly choke as she squeals, crossing your arms and leaning against the back of the squad car, an amused smile on your face.

"I could charge you with obstruction," Jun-ho says, not even looking at her.

"You're a tough cookie," she says. You need to hold yourself back from bursting out laughing, feeling actual pain from your efforts when she pulls out her phone and starts posing for selfies with your partner, who is still ignoring her existence.

The ticket prints from Jun-ho's vest, and he walks to the man on the bike, the girl following him. "The fine for not wearing a helmet is 20,000 won. Pay it on time."

"Hey, can I post this picture online?" The girl asks.

"Yes please," you say under your breath, a few chuckles escaping your mouth.

"Are you on Instagram? Let's follow each other!"

The man starts his bike and drives off, leaving the girl standing there. She chases after him, and this time you can't hold back your laugh as she curses him out and throws her helmet at him.

Jun-ho laughs at the scene before turning to you, already knowing what's about to come.

"Why didn't you follow her on Insta?" you ask, a teasing smile on your face. "That could've been the start of something beautiful."

Your partner rolls his eyes, a smile on his face as he walks to the driver's side of the car. "She's not my type."

You walk to your side of the car. "I don't understand what's not to like. She could be your own personal fan girl." You mimic her squealing, jumping up and down and clapping your hands. Jun-ho laughs and gets in the car, you following him.

Jun-ho had been transferred to your precinct for traffic about a month ago, and you had been assigned as partners two weeks ago. So far you've enjoyed having him as a partner. For one, he's competent, which is definitely a good thing. He also has a sense of humor, something that your last partner lacked. He had requested a new partner when you put childproof locks on everything in his cubicle. When you pulled the same prank on Jun-ho, he just laughed it off. And, of course, that girl wasn't wrong - Jun-ho is very easy on the eyes.

"Alright, Officer Picky," you say as you close the door. "What is your type, then?"

Despite trying to quell it, a feeling of nervous hope bubbles inside of you.

"Definitely moms," Jun-ho says with a smile. "The older the better."

You let out a loud laugh. "What about grandmas?"

"Even better," he chuckles.

You smile fondly at him, and he gives you a confused look.

"What?"

"I'm just so happy you're not lame like my last partner," you chuckle. You slap the dashboard of the squad car, leaning back in your seat with a mischievous smile. "Let's go! Crime doesn't wait for us!"

Jun-ho playfully rolls his eyes as he starts the engine, pulling off the side of the road and back onto the street.

<>

Jun-ho smiles as you point the radar gun at the squirrel running down the street in front of the car.

You turn to him, an amused smile on your face. "That squirrel is going 32 in a 25. Should we bring him in?"

"He's getting away, it'd be a lost cause," he says.

You curse under your breath. "We'll get him next time."

Jun-ho laughs. He's been on traffic for six months now, and he's been enjoying it much more than he thought he would. There's definitely a lot less stress on him than there was as a detective. It's much less dangerous, so his mom is happy with the change.

He also has to give credit to you for making traffic enjoyable. Your humor keeps patrol from getting boring. And he'd be lying if he said he doesn't enjoy being around you. Watching the smile bloom on your face when one of you makes a bad joke is highlight of his day. He's not sure when your laugh became his favorite sound, but he does know that he doesn't think he can go a day without hearing it.

"So," you say, dragging out the O. "Some of the guys are going to grab a drink tonight. Are you coming?"

Jun-ho feels his heartbeat quicken just a bit. "Uh, yeah, I think so." He feels heat rushing to his cheeks. "Are you?"

You smile, biting your bottom lip as you nod. Jun-ho is startled by his urge to pull your lip free with his thumb. Instead, he grips the steering wheel.

"I'll see you there, then." He looks back at the road. "Oh, there's the squirrel!"

You gasp, flipping on the siren. "Let's get him!"

Jun-ho quickly turns the siren off, scolding you through his laugh.

<>

You step into the bar, immediately locating your coworkers based on the amount of noise they're making. With a small laugh to yourself, you walk over to them, clapping one on the back as you come up from behind them. "I have never met a louder group of people in my life."

They all cheer when they see you, raising their beers in greeting. One of your coworkers orders one for you, and you thank the bartender as they put it in front of the stool you're getting on.

"So what have I missed?" you ask, raising the bottle to your lips.

"Da-hae was drooling over that girl by the window," someone says, making everyone burst out laughing.

The man in question's face turns red. "Was not!"

"Yeah, he wasn't drooling," your friend Sun-hi says. "He was just staring like a psychopath."

You nearly spit your beer out, leaning on Sun-hi's shoulder to laugh.

Yong-gi, another one of your coworkers, looks toward the back of the bar, waving for someone to come over. "Jun-ho, come on. Your partner just got here."

You turn to see Jun-ho approaching your group with a bashful smile on his face. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. He's wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt that perfectly hugs his biceps. He picks up his beer, giving you a teasing smile. "Nice of you to finally join us."

You put your hands up in fake surrender. "Considering I had to stop home first, I actually made it here in record time."

"So Jun-ho tells us you tried to arrest a squirrel today?" Yong-gi laughs.

"He was breaking the speed limit and I took a sacred oath to protect this community. Jun-ho's the one who let him get away!"

<>

After about an hour of laughing and joking, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, Sun-hi following right behind you.

Once you're done and come out of the stall, Sun-hi smiles at you through the mirror. "So, are you finally gonna make a move on Jun-ho tonight?"

You look up at her, startled, making her laugh. "Please, you looked like you wanted to fuck him right there in the middle of the bar." She takes her chapstick out of her bag, reapplying. "You should go for it."

You shake your head, turning on the sink and getting soap. "Yeah, because it's such a good idea for me to try to hook up with my partner. He definitely won't request a transfer after that."

She smiles. "I don't think he would. That boy wants you just as badly as you want him."

You roll your eyes, turning off the sink and grabbing a few paper towels.

"I'm serious!" she defends. "You guys remind me of me and my husband before we started dating."

You sigh. Sun-hi and her husband are absolutely perfect together. You can only hope to have a relationship like their's someday.

"Look, if he says something, I'll say yes, but I'm not gonna mess this up. He's the best partner I've had and I'm not going back to another lame one."

Sun-hi groans. "Fine."

<>

Jun-ho takes a sip of his beer, nodding along to the story Da-hae is telling him, though his eyes are on you. He watches you bend over the pool table, subconsciously sticking your tongue out as you focus on the striped ball you want to get into the socket. You hit the cue ball and it knocks the 10 ball right into the hole, and the triumphant smile on your face as you add to your lead against Yong-gi has Jun-ho breaking out in a smile of his own.

"Are you even listening to me?" Da-hae asks, breaking Jun-ho out of his little trance.

"Yeah, man," he says.

"What was I just talking about?"

"Uhh, crime?"

Da-hae rolls his eyes. "You have got to ask her out already."

Jun-ho raises an eyebrow at his fellow cop. "And why would I do that?"

"Because you've been looking at her like a love-sick fool ever since you transferred here." Da-hae points towards the bar. "And because if you don't, someone else will."

Jun-ho follows his finger and sees a man standing with his friends, his gaze on you in a way that ties Jun-ho's stomach in knots.

"She's a good person, and so are you," Da-hae says, clapping a hand on Jun-ho's shoulder. "Don't miss out."

Jun-ho nods, taking another sip of his beer. Another coworker of theirs comes over and changes the subject, but his mind stays on Da-hae's words.

<>

The clock hits midnight, and most of the cops have left, needing to get up for another shift tomorrow. You and Jun-ho are two of the last to leave, both having off the next day.

Jun-ho feels a hand on his shoulder and turns his head to see you standing next to him. "I think I'm gonna head out. I'll see you Monday, though."

Jun-ho turns to you. "Let me drive you home. I was planning on leaving too and that way you won't have to pay for a cab."

You smile, nodding your head. You both say goodbye to the few that are left and head out to Jun-ho's car.

The ride to your apartment building is uncharacteristically quiet. Not uncomfortable, but quiet. You've driven with Jun-ho more times than you can count, it's literally your job, and usually the car is filled with chatter and laughter. Tonight, however, a peaceful silence envelops you like a nice, fluffy blanket.

He pulls in front of your building and an idea pops into your head, making you turn to him. "Hey, while I have you here, can you come take a look at my thermostat? It's been acting up."

"Yeah, no problem," he says, following you out of the car and up the stairs to your floor.

You unlock your door and step inside your apartment, letting Jun-ho walk in after you. He smiles as he sees your place, the comfy throw blankets messily hung over your couch, obviously used very often. This isn't the first time Jun-ho has been in your apartment, but he notices new things every time he comes.

Your digital picture frame catches his eye, smiling as he sees pictures of you and your friends and family. His face softens when another picture pops up. You're sitting in the squad car, smiling at the camera and throwing up peace signs as Jun-ho face-palms in the background at a bad joke you had made. He laughs at the memory, getting your attention.

He smiles at you, pointing to the frame. "I didn't think I'd make the frame."

You feel your cheeks heat up knowing that he saw that. "You're one of my closest friends, of course you're on there."

His heart flutters knowing that he's an important person in your life. You lead him over to the thermostat, leaning against the wall by it. Jun-ho removes the cover, checking the wiring.

You take the opportunity to admire the man in front of you. His hair falls perfectly over his forehead, his face scrunched up in concentration. Jun-ho may be the most perfect person you've ever met, both in terms of looks and personality. It's crazy that he's single. And here you are, doing nothing to show him your feelings.

Jun-ho lets out a small "aha", snapping you out of your thoughts. He holds the rubber around one of the wires, carefully pushing it into the socket. You hear the air turn on and smile.

"Good work, Officer," you tease.

He puts the cover back on with a smile. "You're welcome, ma'am, anything to help a citizen."

You lightly slap his arm, making him break out laughing. "What have I said about calling me 'ma'am'?"

"To call you it as much as possible."

You slap him again, making him laugh harder. "I said don't call me ma'am." You continue hitting him.

"Okay, okay, stop assaulting me," Jun-ho chuckles, catching your wrist before you can hit him again. You move to hit him with your other hand but he catches that wrist as well, smiling down at you. He examines your face, memorizing every detail. Da-hae's words from the bar echo in his mind. Finding his courage, Jun-ho releases your wrists, cupping your cheeks with his hands and pulling you into him.

You gasp in surprise as his lips land on yours. You quickly recover, though, running one hand through his hair and putting the other on his chest, feeling his muscles.

Jun-ho pushes you against the wall, smiling against your lips. He pulls back, keeping his forehead against your own. "You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that."

You smile up at him. "Me too."

He leans back in, kissing you again, enjoying the feeling of you against him. You happily kiss him back, opening when he darts his tongue out to trace your lips.

You pull back this time, looking at the man with a smile on your face. "Y'know, the others probably had bets on when this was gonna happen."

Jun-ho lets out a laugh. "We should mess with them. Ruin all their bets."

"I knew I liked you for a reason," you say, kissing him again as he chuckles on your lips. That can wait for Monday, though. All that matters right now is that he finally got the girl.

Squid Game Tags: @thebiggestigurosimp @vvnbxz @lov3yy @miltzzy

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

48 / 1.1k / shark mermen Ghost and Soap + lionfish mermaid reader, courtesy of @porcelainpot :)

...

The moment you and Soap lock eyes, you push yourself up off the soft sea floor. Tendrils of sand, gold in the sun, trail after your tailfin all the way back into the tangle of reef coral you’ve claimed as your home.

Soap laughs behind you.

Why is he so obsessed with this? This stupid game he plays. Ghost—who rolls over near the sunny patch where you were just lazing together—doesn’t care when you’re around. You don’t bother him; he doesn’t bother you. But Soap won’t leave you alone. He all but ignores the clear warning signs all over your body—the auburn striping your tail; your bright, fanlike fins; the enormous fuckoff venom-coated spines running the length of your dorsal line, arms, and ear fins.  

You scowl. Every time you think he won’t find you when you venture out into the reef, every time you let yourself relax after the day’s hunting is done, he turns up. Watching you the same way he’s looking at you right now: too fucking closely. His eyes flash with mischief and lock onto your fins through the sparse gaps in your coral cave.

“Think she bites?” he asks Ghost.

Ghost grunts. “Most things do.”

“Saw her lookin’ at you like she might want to take a piece home.”

“Doubt it.”

“Doubt you’d feel it if she did. Could hardly kill a minnow with those wee teeth. Don’t know how she hunts with ‘em.”

You duck down back into the entrance of your cave with a flick of your lacy tail. He’s talking loudly enough for you to hear on purpose. “You’re never getting close enough to find out,” you snap.

Soap’s smirk stretches into a grin. You took the bait. “Can’t hide in your cage forever, can ya?”

Ghost rolls back over. “She’s got more sense than the ones who swim toward you.”

“Oh, piss off. Fleein’ from a predator is what prey fish do. It’s a natural response.”

You lurk a little further outside your cave. “I’m not prey. I’m just as much a predator as you sharks.”

This time, Ghost is the one who scoffs. “Sure you are.”

Soap swims up closer to your hiding spot, eyes roaming over your form. You bristle instinctively and raise your spines in warning as he drifts closer. But it doesn’t drive him away. If anything, it seems to draw his interest even more.

“Ya’ve got an impressive display, I’ll give it that,” he says. “But you’re a scrap compared to us.”

“So? I don’t need size to defend myself.” You fan your fins up higher, emboldened as you rise with the current.

Soap grins even wider at the threat display. You’re all barbed fins, colorful scales, and angry pout. His gaze reflects the challenge you’re issuing him. “Careful sayin’ that. I’ll chase you if you tease me.”

Ghost lets out an irritated growl at Soap’s flirtation, knowing very well Soap only says these things to get a rise out of you. “Those spines aren’t just for show, Soap. You know what lionfish venom feels like. Bet hers is worse. Might kill you. You think it's worth dying just to prove a point?"

“I think spines break as easy as they sting.”

Anger surges through your chest. “Brute,” you snap.

Soap laughs. You don’t seem to notice you’ve drifted some distance away from your hiding spot, but he has. Ghost shifts, side-eying both of you more closely.

“I’m just curious, gorgeous.” His senses sharpen with the thrill of your threat display and your anger. Of course he thinks it’s sexy. The more you insult him, the more he wants to see what it takes to earn more than just that sharp tongue of yours. “Think touchin’ you might be worth the sting.”

“You’d be wrong.”

“You’re cute when you’ve got a problem with me. Gnashin’ like a miniature barracuda.”

You puff up a little more, daring to swim closer. You’re smugly satisfied when he backs away a little in response.

“Try it,” you bluff.

Soap’s eyes drop down, tracing the length of your fins, and he grins. He’s just as aware of the lethality of any lionfish's wicked barbs as he is of their beauty, but he doesn’t seem particularly deterred by the threats of this particular mer wielding them. “Bet you wouldn’t bite me too hard.”

“Soap.” Ghost’s voice is calm, but a warning lurks in his tone. “Don’t provoke her.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Soap replies without looking away from you. “Bet those spines are brittle.” He reaches forward to touch one.

You hiss and whip your tail away on instinct, darting back. Your spines are still raised in defense. But your rational mind doesn’t want to risk him getting any closer. You don’t want him to know what happens if he's stung--that your venom is a faulty mimic of a true lionfish. He needs to think you're dangerous and keep his distance. And you need to keep your pride intact.

Soap hardly notices how upset you are. He’s thrilled to provoke an interesting new reaction out of you. Before he can reach out again, though, Ghost grabs his wrist and jerks him back, forcing him out of your personal space.

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re not fast enough to avoid a sting.”

“You’re no fun, Ghost.”

“Fuck off,” you snap. Your heart is pounding. He got too close, way too close.

You retreat while Ghost has ahold of him, slipping down into your small den and out of sight. Soap calls after you, but he’s not surprised when you don’t come back out.

Soap rips his wrist out of Ghost’s claws with a muttered curse. At Ghost’s hard look, he snaps, “Like you wouldn’t do it too.”

“That’s not the problem. She’s a pincushion. You go pissing her off too much, you’re going to wind up full of poison.

“Aye.”

“And it'll probably kill you. Hurt the whole time doing it. It’s all fun and games until you’re dying because you just couldn’t help but poke a pretty fish.”

Soap scoffs. “You’re exaggerating. No sting can kill me. It'll hurt a little an’ I’ll be fine.”

Ghost gives Soap an unimpressed glance. “And if you're wrong? You think you’re strong enough to fight off a neurotoxin.” He snorts. “You want to test that hypothesis?”

Soap glances back at your den with a frown.

“Keep your bloody distance,” Ghost mutters, giving Soap a shove back toward the center of the reef. “She’s no prize.”

Soap gives in and turns back toward the reef, turning a restless corkscrew in the water. Still, the smirk reappears on his face. “Aye. Little nightmare, isn’t she?” He sighs. “All bite and no kiss.”

...

[part 1 ] / part 2 by porcelainpot here!! <3

more mer au / more Soap / masterlist

[life-is-more-than-just-a-game]

♠️ AiB males playing "7 minutes in heaven" ♠️

A/N: A friend of mine and I came up with this topic very randomly. Still, I think this can get interesting and also kind of funny, so I wanna give it a try at least. Are you in? of course you are, hehe! 🤭

Summary: Everyone knows The Beach and of course next to parties, there will be enough time for some funny games you and the other members can play together. Beside dangerous games, someone mentioned "7 minutes in heaven".

7 minutes in heaven- Rules: Two chosen people are getting into a private, dark room. Doors are closed and now the both have to find a way to pass the time- that's it.

Characters: Aguni, Arisu, Chishiya, Karube, Niragi

POV: gn!neutral

Warnings: Not given.

A g u n i

Tatta: "..." Chishiya: "..." y/n: "... So ... you are playing with us?"

Literally everyone is in shock and irritated when Aguni is joining the group for playing this dumb game.

Niragi would like to say "How pathetic" but since Aguni is not only his leader, but also attends the game himself, he prefers to keep his mouth shut.

It should come as no surprise that hardly anyone don't want to be locked in a dark room with him.

He always exudes something threatening and the fact that he is extremely radical in some situations doesn't really make it any better.

Arisu and Karube aren't keen on spending seven minutes alone with him- that's how everyone feels, except maybe Niragi, "Last Boss" and you.

He never did anything to you.

However, you don't have much to do with each other either.

Which doesn't mean he didn't notice you.

He can tolerate your presence and you can tolerate his.

This is also the reason why the two of you are ultimately put in the room together.

An: "Sorry." y/n: "Don't be, I'm really fine with that."

You are not afraid of him, just very respectful.

The fact that he is so quiet and says so little about himself makes you believe that there is more to his character than most people would probably believe.

It's risky, but once you've arrived in the room - where you've both found a place to sit or lie down - you just ask him.

y/n: "Tell me … what actually made you the person you are now?" Aguni: "You really try to start a conversation with me?" y/n: "Sure. I have nothing left to lose."

It gets quiet between you for a moment.

Aguni: "Me neither."

Well, that hits differently, but:

Aguni: "Not interested in idle Chit-Chat. I don't need someone listening to me." y/n: "Alright ... I'm sorry." Aguni: "No ... I am."

You don't exactly know what he is sorry for but you can tell by his voice that he means it.

Deep down he would like to talk to you.

And he is pleased that someone is interested in him and his story.

But he doesn't want to show weakness- and anyway, it's just not the right time to open up to anyone about it.

A r i s u

He's a clever boy, but one has to explain the rules for him twice ...

It's so easy but, what? He? Alone in a room with someone who is allowed to do everything he wants?

Arisu: "Didn't you guys say this game isn't dangerous at all?" Kuina: "I ... don't think someone wants to kill anyone here." Niragi: "Uh-" Chishiya: "Please, do us a favor and keep your fantasies to yourself."

*Gulps*

However, he breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes that he is being put in a room with you.

And after that ... he gets nervous.

Damn, he thinks you are so beautiful/handsome- you make him literally SPEACHLES!

Speaks to himself in his head: it's only seven minutes, time will pass quickly.

So, the both of you go in the room ...

Aguni: "Don't forget, the room is next to us- we will hear everything."

Yeah, actually, they will hear nothing, because Arisu and you are just sitting there, towards each other, in silence.

You both are so shy, that's cute! UwU

But he tries his best to start a conversation with you at least.

Arisu: "Well, this ... uhm ..." y/n: "I can't hear you, it's too dark ..."

With that, you finally got him- like, he's going to laugh, because he knows that quote exactly.

Arisu: "Did you seriously quoted Spongebob?!" y/n: "No, I quoted Patrick Star."

And that's it.

Yes, you guys are sticking to the Spongebob references and holy, time suddenly goes by so fast.

The others are simply shocked and can't believe the conversation they're hearing …

Well ... you can't take another fandom if you want to if you can't relate with it but, hm ... shame on you ...

C h i s h i y a

The calmest and most composed of all.

If you're nervous, rest assured: he's not.

Kuina wouldn't have put you two in the same room if she didn't know he had a thing for you- but don't expect him to show.

Kuina: "Have fun you two!" Chishiya: "Be sure we will have." y/n: "Uh- will we?" Chishiya: "We will see."

Well, luckily everyone defines “fun” differently.

He laughed at you when you bumped into something as you entered the room.

y/n: "Ouch!" Chishiya: "Watch out." y/n: "IT'S DARK INSIDE HERE, I'M NOT AN OWL!"

He would be willing to help you, but he's no more an owl than you are.

Chishiya: "Ouch!" y/n: "Watch out." Chishiya: "Maybe I deserve that."

Once you have settled down somewhere, peace and quiet return.

For a very long time.

Chishiya doesn't speak if he doesn't have to.

And he is patient.

A person with lots of time.

But you aren't in here with him to remain silent.

y/n: "Haven't you told me we will have fun in here?" Chishiya: "Question is, what kind of fun you think of."

Thanks god it's dark inside here so he can see how your face is turning red now.

Chishiya: "Did you know: Owls can turn their heads by up to 270 degrees, as they have twice as many neck vertebrae as humans." Kuina: "You should give y/n compliments instead of boring them with your knowledge." y/n: "UP TO 270 DEGREES?!" Chishiya: "You know, Kuina- you aren't in the room, so leave us alone."

K a r u b e

The brother has no inhibitions. When he hears that you should go into the room with him, he stands up, grabs you by the wrist and pulls you behind him, no hesitation.

The other players already have a premonition of what's going to happen with you two, which is why they deliberately stay away from the door.

The only thing is, they are wrong.

You aren't about to start a wild make-up-session.

Instead, Karube simply leads you to the window of the room, where he quietly and secretly draws the curtains.

y/n: "You know, this is against the rules ..." Karube: "Rules are made to be broken."

In any case, the little romantic has a plan for how you can make the seven minutes pass quickly together.

Karube: "Have you ever noticed how brightly the stars shine outside at night in this world?" y/n: "Honestly, no. I … I've never really felt like looking at the stars in this world. I never had someone to do that with, plus ... it kinda makes me sad, 'cause of all the people we have already lost and kill ourselves." Karube: "But the deceased can be better remembered in the dark and in peace."

That leaves you speechless.

You know that Karube can be a bit of a jerk.

But you also know that he's not stupid.

And you really love like how kindhearted he can be if he wants to.

Karube: "So, seven minutes to just stand here and watch the stars getting brighter together- will you join me?"

You smile at him and this is your answer, before you turn your head in the direction of the window- whispering a quiet "Wow" while your eyes are getting a litte teary.

y/n: "You are a blessing, Karube ... you really are ..."

N i r a g i

Niragi is the most annoying partner you can get from any player.

Unlike Chishiya, he wouldn't talk about any 'useless' knowledge, but he would be nagging and complaining.

And above all, he would be offended because he doesn't get what he wants from you.

Niragi: "Come on, seven minutes would be enough for a-" y/n: "I said no and no means no!"

But who would he be if he just accepted it.

y/n: "And anyways, it wouldn't be much fun if we aren't able to see each other ... right?"

You can then hear a choking noise from outside, which is uttered by Tatta.

Nevertheless, Niragi gives you the point and just sits back from that now on.

At least for a while until he gets bored again.

Niragi: "And now? Are we just sitting here, doing nothing at all?" y/n: "We can play “I see something you don't see”." Niragi: "Are you fucking kidding me?" y/n: "Alright, then let's call it "Guess what I see"." Niragi: "Stop it." y/n: "Well, than stop nagging, you can't be bored enough then."

Just be happy about the fact he do like a lot.

We all now Niragi is none who is listening to a "no".

If he wouldn't care about you … just think about what he did to Usagi …

Still, he is happy when things are finally over.

Karube: "So, how does it feel like to be dumped?" Niragi: "You should know the best." Karube: "Sorry boy, none has ever rejected me."

[sunshineangel0]

beach trouble 𓆉 . ݁𓇼

pairing- Lee Felix x Reader summary- What starts as an innocent sunscreen application turns into a full-blown game of teasing and tension when Felix decides to test just how much you can handle. The problem? You refuse to lose. genre- fluff, friends to lovers word count- 1.2k warnings- Felix being a menace, pet names, thigh-grabbing, almost-kissing, mutual pining but so much denial, your heart rate skyrocketing because LEE FELIX IS TOO HOT FOR HIS OWN GOOD, jisung and changbin being cockblocks, felix saying one suggestive word a/n- i cant wait for summer to come!!! so happy that its finally WARM where i live and the sun is shining

The sun hung high in the sky, beating down relentlessly on the golden sand beneath your feet. The beach was alive with laughter, waves crashing in a steady rhythm, and the scent of salt filling the air. It was supposed to be a normal, chill day—just you, Felix, and your friends.

But, of course, Felix never makes things easy for you.

You sighed, setting down your towel before rummaging through your bag. Sunscreen, sunscreen… There. You pulled it out and flipped open the cap, only to feel a familiar presence settle beside you.

"You need help?" Felix’s voice was smooth, casual—but something about it sent a shiver down your spine.

You looked up at him. His skin was already glowing under the sun, damp from the ocean, tiny droplets of water rolling down his chest. His black swim trunks clung to his hips just right, and his freckles—God, his freckles—were scattered across his nose like a masterpiece.

You swallowed. "I—uh, yeah, sure. Just uh— my back."

The moment you said it, you immediately regretted it.

Felix grinned, taking the bottle from your hands. "No problem, sweetheart."

Oh, no. Not the pet names.

You turned around, exposing your back to him as you sat cross-legged on your soft beach towel. The sunscreen felt cool against your skin as he squirted some onto his palms. And then—

His hands touched you.

You were expecting something quick, efficient, platonic.

Instead? Slow. Deliberate. His hands glided over your shoulders first, fingers pressing in just enough to make you exhale a little too sharply.

"You’re tense," Felix murmured, his voice dipping into something lower, almost teasing.

You clenched your jaw. "It’s because you’re making this weird."

Felix chuckled, but he didn’t stop—his palms smoothed down your shoulder blades, thumbs pressing into the knots near your spine like he was giving you a massage instead of just applying sunscreen.

And then, his hands dipped lower.

Your breath hitched.

"Relax," he whispered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "I gotta make sure you don’t burn, right?"

Right. Right. That’s why he was doing this.

Not because he was enjoying it. Not because he knew damn well what he was doing to you.

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped when his fingers skimmed over your sides, his touch lingering too long, moving too slow.

"Felix." Your voice came out as more of a warning than anything.

He hummed, still dragging this out, his fingertips barely brushing the curve of your waist.

"Problem?" he asked, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You turned around so fast that he barely had time to pull his hands back. Your eyes locked onto his, and—yep. That little menace was definitely smirking.

"You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?" you accused.

Felix blinked, feigning innocence. "Enjoying what?"

You huffed. "The way you’re—ugh. Never mind."

Felix bit his lip like he was holding back a laugh. Then, he leaned in, so close you could see the golden flecks in his brown eyes.

"If you wanted me to keep going," he murmured, "all you had to do was ask, love."

Your brain short-circuited.

Okay. That’s it.

You grabbed the sunscreen bottle and squirted a generous amount into your palm before smacking it directly onto his chest. Felix yelped, jerking back as you rubbed it in way too aggressively.

You thought that would be the end of it—just a harmless bit of revenge for all the teasing.

But Felix? Oh. He had other ideas.

His expression shifted—still playful, but now something darker flickered behind his chocolate brown eyes eyes. His lips curled into a slow smirk, and before you could even react, he grabbed your wrist.

"Oh, so that’s how we’re playing?" he murmured.

Your stomach flipped.

Before you could pull away, Felix dragged his fingers along your arm, slow, warm, calculated. And then—

He pushed you down onto your towel.

Your breath hitched as he caged you in, one knee sliding between your legs, his hands planted on either side of your head.

"Felix—"

"You started this angel," he mused, his lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear.

Your pulse thundered. You could feel the heat radiating from his bare skin, his toned arms tensing slightly as he held himself above you. His chest hovered just inches from yours, his breath warm as he exhaled.

And the worst part? That bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

"You’re such a menace," you muttered, shifting beneath him.

Felix chuckled, his hips pressing just slightly into yours before he pulled back. "Hmm, you dont seem to mind," he murmured.

You tried to glare at him, but then—

His fingers ghosted along the inside of your thigh.

Oh, fuck.

"You good?" he asked, his voice too innocent for what he was doing. You clenched your jaw. "You’re ridiculous."

He just smiled. But instead of backing off, he dragged his fingers higher, his touch featherlight but so damn deliberate.

Too close. Too slow. Too much.

"Relax," he murmured, fingertips barely skimming over your bikini strap. "I gotta make sure you don’t burn, right?"

Your breath caught in your throat.

This wasn’t fair. This was not fucking fair.

Felix had always been a flirt—but this? This was an entirely different level of teasing.

Your thighs twitched, your body instinctively reacting to his touch. And you knew he noticed, because he let out the softest hum.

"You’re awfully quiet," he murmured, tilting his head. "What’s wrong?"

Your jaw clenched. "You know exactly what’s wrong, Felix." He grinned. "Do I?"

You couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed his wrist, halting his slow, torturous movements. His eyes flickered with something unreadable—a challenge—as he stared down at you.

"You keep touching me like that," you said, voice low, "and people are gonna start talking."

Felix froze for a second. Then, his grin turned downright wicked.

"So?" His fingers tightened slightly on your thigh. "Let them talk."

Your breath hitched. Felix had been playing this game for weeks—teasing glances, lingering touches, flirty little comments that never went anywhere. But now?

Now, he was testing you. Your body burned, your mind racing as he leaned down, his freckles just inches from your lips.

His next words? Almost sent you into cardiac arrest. "You could just tell me to stop," he whispered. But you didn’t.

Instead, you wrapped your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Felix inhaled sharply.

Oh. Oh.

"Something wrong?" you murmured, throwing his own game back at him. His jaw tightened. "Trouble," he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

Felix suddenly dipped his head, lips grazing just below your ear. His voice was low, almost a growl. "You, angel," he whispered, "are fucking trouble."

Your stomach dropped.

And then—

"HEY, LOVE BIRDS! ARE YOU GONNA MAKE OUT OR WHAT?"

You jerked away from Felix so fast you nearly whacked your forehead into his.

Felix groaned, flopping onto his back beside you as Jisung and Changbin cackled from a few feet away.

"RUDE!" Felix shouted, throwing a handful of sand in their direction.

Your heart was still racing. Your thighs still tingled from where Felix’s hands had been. You turned your head toward him—he was already watching you.

He smirked.

"This isn’t over, angel."

And you knew—from the way his eyes darkened, from the way his fingers twitched at his sides—he was absolutely right.

You were so, so screwed.

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

skz general: @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789 @estella-novella

(if you want to be added to my taglist, please comment under the post.)

[rafeskai]

Opposite — Rafe Cameron

Part Two

She looks nothing like me So why do you look so happy?

Summary: After seeing her ex-boyfriend Rafe Cameron happily flirting with his new girlfriend Sofia at a party, the reader confronts the painful reality that Sofia is everything she’s not—quiet, effortless, and seemingly perfect for him.

Pairings: ExBF!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: Y'all really wanted part two, I had to deliver :)

First Part Here

It had been six months since that night at the Kook party, six months since you’d finally walked away from Rafe Cameron. It hadn’t been easy, but you’d found something you didn’t think you’d feel again: peace. Or at least, something close to it.

Your new boyfriend, Noah, had been a big part of that. He was different from Rafe in every way—kind, steady, and, most importantly, honest. He never made you feel like you weren’t enough, never looked at you like he was waiting for someone better to come along.

So when he invited you to dinner at a cozy waterfront restaurant, you thought it would be another perfect evening. The two of you sat at a table on the deck, the ocean breeze sweeping through your hair as the sun dipped below the horizon. You were mid-laugh at one of Noah’s terrible jokes when your eyes caught movement across the patio.

And then you saw him.

Rafe.

He was sitting at a nearby table with Sofia. Her laughter rang out, soft and melodic, as she reached across the table to touch his hand. Rafe leaned back in his chair, his signature smirk plastered across his face.

Your stomach twisted painfully. You hadn’t seen him since that night, and now, here he was, looking as infuriatingly perfect as ever. His gaze shifted, almost like he could sense you staring, and for a brief, agonizing moment, your eyes locked.

He froze, his smirk faltering as recognition flickered across his face.

“Hey, you okay?” Noah’s voice pulled you back to the present.

You tore your eyes away, forcing a smile as you turned to him. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But you weren’t. Not when you could feel Rafe’s gaze lingering, not when you could still hear Sofia’s laugh cutting through the air like a knife.

The rest of dinner was a blur. Noah kept the conversation light, unaware of the storm raging inside you, but you couldn’t focus. When the check came, you excused yourself to the bathroom, desperate for a moment to breathe.

You had barely made it to the hallway when a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N.”

You turned slowly, your heart pounding. Rafe was standing there, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his expression unreadable.

“What do you want, Rafe?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

He hesitated, his blue eyes scanning your face like he was searching for something. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” you said, folding your arms across your chest.

Rafe took a step closer, and you instinctively took one back. He frowned at the distance. “You look... good.”

“Save it,” you snapped. “I’m not interested in whatever game you’re playing.”

“I’m not playing a game,” he said quickly, his voice low but urgent. “I just... I needed to say something.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms tighter. “What could you possibly have to say to me, Rafe? We’ve already been down this road.”

“I screwed up,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I screwed up,” he repeated, louder this time. “I pushed you away because I was too much of a coward to deal with my own crap. I thought... I thought being with someone easy would fix things. But it didn’t. It doesn’t.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, the raw honesty in his voice throwing you off balance.

“Rafe...” you began, but he cut you off.

“I see you with him,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “And I can’t stand it. I hate that he gets to make you laugh like that, that he gets to hold you, to love you. It should’ve been me.”

You shook your head, the tears stinging your eyes. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to come here and say these things after everything.”

“I know,” he said quickly, stepping closer again. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I... I miss you, Y/N. Every day.”

The sound of footsteps behind you made you turn. Noah was standing at the end of the hallway, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Everything okay here?” he asked, his gaze flicking between you and Rafe.

You wiped at your eyes, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

You brushed past Rafe without another word, grabbing Noah’s hand as you walked back to the table. But as you left the restaurant, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Rafe’s eyes on you, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest.

Even as Noah laced his fingers with yours, offering the kind of steady warmth you knew you deserved, part of you couldn’t help but look back.

————————————

 The drive home with Noah was quiet, the silence in the car thicker than usual. You stared out the window, the streetlights flashing by in a blur, but your mind was stuck in that hallway, with Rafe’s words looping endlessly in your head.

“I miss you. Every day.”

Noah must have noticed your distraction. He reached over, placing a comforting hand on your thigh. “You’ve been quiet since we left. You sure you’re okay?”

You hesitated, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I’m fine,” you said softly, though the words felt hollow.

When Noah dropped you off, he kissed your forehead and promised to call you in the morning. As his car pulled away, you stood on your porch, staring at the empty street. The quiet of the night pressed in, but your thoughts were anything but calm.

Rafe’s voice haunted you. His confession had cracked something open inside you, something you’d buried deep to protect yourself.

It wasn’t fair. You were happy now. Weren’t you?

But deep down, you knew the truth. You hadn’t been happy—not completely—since Rafe.

With a shaky breath, you unlocked your door and stepped inside. You barely made it to the couch before your phone buzzed. For a moment, you thought it might be Noah, checking in again. But when you looked at the screen, your heart dropped.

Rafe: I know I shouldn’t have said anything. I just needed you to know.

You stared at the message, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. You knew responding would only complicate things, but your heart had other plans.

You: Rafe, I can’t do this right now.

His reply came almost instantly.

Rafe: Please. Just give me five minutes. If you don’t want to talk after that, I’ll leave you alone.

You closed your eyes, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. Against your better judgment, you typed out a response.

You: Fine. Five minutes.

————————————

Rafe was on your doorstep less than fifteen minutes later. He looked hesitant, his usual confidence replaced with something you rarely saw in him: vulnerability.

“You really don’t waste time, do you?” you said, your arms crossed as you leaned against the doorframe.

He gave a weak smile. “Didn’t want to give you a chance to change your mind.”

You stepped aside, letting him in. The air in the room was heavy as you sat down on the couch, leaving a noticeable gap between you.

“Talk,” you said, your tone guarded.

Rafe leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor. For a moment, you thought he might not say anything at all. But then, he took a deep breath.

“I’ve been an idiot,” he began, his voice low. “I thought I could move on, that being with Sofia would make me forget you. But it didn’t. Nothing does. I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you for months, but every time I tried, I just... froze.”

You stayed silent, your arms tightening around yourself.

“I know I hurt you,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly. “And I know I don’t deserve a second chance. But I’m asking for one anyway.”

You looked at him, your heart aching at the raw emotion in his eyes. “Why now, Rafe? Why wait until I finally moved on?”

“Because I’m a coward,” he admitted, his gaze meeting yours. “I was scared of how much I needed you. But seeing you tonight, with him... it made me realize I can’t keep pretending. I love you, Y/N. I never stopped.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and overwhelming. You felt tears prick at your eyes, but you fought them back. “You don’t get to do this,” you whispered. “You don’t get to break me and then come back like this.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to fix it. I’ll wait as long as you need. Just tell me there’s a chance.”

The tears finally spilled over, and you turned away, wiping at your face. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to let you go? To try and move on?”

“I do,” he said softly. “And I hate myself for putting you through that. But I swear, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

You looked back at him, your chest tightening as you saw the sincerity in his eyes. You wanted to stay strong, to protect yourself from the pain he’d caused. But the truth was, you still loved him.

You always had.

With a shaky breath, you closed the gap between you, your hands trembling as you reached for his. “If you hurt me again, Rafe... I won’t survive it.”

His hands enveloped yours, warm and steady. “I won’t. I promise, I won’t.”

He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t. When his lips finally met yours, it felt like coming home. The kiss was soft and full of unspoken promises, his hands cradling your face like you were something fragile, something precious.

When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “I love you,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes, letting the words wash over you. For the first time in months, the ache in your chest began to ease.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe in a future where love didn’t have to hurt.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[ellieslittleburrow]

What it's like being Jack Reacher's girlfriend.

Pairings : Reacher x girlfriend!reader

Warnings : none

Jack Reacher-the man you've been traveling with for a while-also dating and umm..you know, jumping whenever you get the chance. He's not an easy man to be around, neither is he too high maintenance. And he's a lot of things, one of them being annoyingly vigilant.

His face is so peaceful when he's sleeping. Although the scars etched across his skin tell all the horrific things, his eyes tell so much more, always blank and never serene. His ability to remain emotionless and seemingly calm always gets to you but- there's not much to do in those moments, other than live with i-

"Will you quit staring at me while i'm sleeping?"

His hoarse and sleepy voice snatches you from your thoughts and you find yourself biting your lip in irritation-This man-

"Would you-shut up?" You retort and lean in to place a tiny a kiss on his lips.

There's the outside Reacher and the Reacher only YOU know.

The more time you spend with him, the more he softens around you and the more demeanor changes. You'd watch him as he walks over to you from time to time, relaxing as the distance between you closes. A slow kiss to his cheek and all of a sudden, his eyebrows rest and his shoulders almost unnoticibly slouch. And he is no longer the cognizant warrior he forces himself to be.

There's also the Reacher who only speaks through actions!

"What's this?" You inspect the box, a thrill running through you when you realize what was inside, a mobile game controller. "Reacher-where'd you get this?" You ask him, cocking your head to the side when another question pops into your head. "Do you even know what this is?" You squint your eyes at him and he just rolls his eyes.

"I know that would help you!? Plus-It'll keep you intertained while we're travelling. You're stupidly addicted to those games of yours."

A smile tugs at your lips and you watch him from afar, the man who'd never had it in him to be emotional. But there he is, doing just that-drowning in emotions to the point where he'd shyly need avert his eyes and look away.

You walk up to him and wrap your arms around his waist. He doesn't stop tidying up the bed but you wouldn't want to embarrass him anyway. "Thank you.."

And finally, the sassy Reacher

"I remember the way she looked at us-i've never seen someone more horrified in my life."

Laughter pierces the room but- what's making YOU smile is that rare sight of the man's teeth. He's being normal-he's laughing.

"What?"

You supress a smirk. "Nothing.." You teasingly shrug. "It's just that-I didn't know you even knew how to smile."

You tease him and he nodds. "Oh you're lacking the sight of smiles? You wanna see a smile? You wanna see some teeth?"

Reacher hovers around you and you-you're not sure what to expect, suspense kills you when he stops behind you. His hands playfully trail down your body, causing a warm sensation to tickle at your lower stomach-until he stops at your waist and suddenly, your body is bouncing on the bed and your feet are locked in place.

"REACHER NO-"

You beg him when the realization hits you but he's already be-begun as his fingers dance at the soles of your feet, you jerk and squeal.

"You wanted a smile-ooh-There's a smile-well-here it is-oh look at that-"

"Jack-J-Jack-Please-Stoop" You gasp between your fits and when he finally let you of you, you collapse onto the bed and your roll your body away from him. "Oh my god-fuck you-that was-" you're wheezing and he's smiling-and despite the abdominal pain, you can't help but smile as well.

Reacher may never say the words but his actions are clear enough. And for now, that's all you need.

----------

@nerdynarrator28

I had to force myself to post it ahahaha but its here ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀

[shineesbackbitches]

Lip Tint Stains and Hair Ties

౨ৎ summary: “He locked his gaze in front of him, unable to gather the wits to gauge your reaction. His round glasses had slipped further down his nose than he preferred them, but he made no effort to correct their resting place. Wonwoo’s vision had always been complete garbage, and the time he spent focused on video games had not served his eyesight for the better. His glasses were cute though, and you’d told him as much the first time he wore them around you. Overall, he felt neutral about his frames, but being able to clearly see the board at the front of the classroom, the leaves on trees, and the smaller details of your face he hadn’t noticed without them were enough to convince him to wear them consistently. (“Since when did you have like, individual eyelashes?” “You mean like, how everyone does?” “… Huh.” “You knew people have individual lashes. Wonwoo, you knew people have individual lashes, right?”)”

౨ৎ pairing: Wonwoo x Reader

౨ৎ genre: childhood friends to lovers, school, college, slow burn, fluff, one shot, peachesndreams

౨ৎ word count: 11.5k

౨ৎ warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, insecurities, high school sports (repulsive I know), orientation week bullshit, kissing, pretty tame making out, one gross incel, reader really grows into her menace (good for her), the tension between these two is enough to make Mingyu cry, fluffy hair Wonwoo our collective beloved, two brief mentions of choking but not in the sexy kinda way, Soonyoung and Jihoon bickering

౨ৎ author note: a little love letter for my fellow Carats <3 There, there Besties

From the time you began attending school, you always walked back home together— you and Wonwoo. Coincidentally, when clubs became a mandatory thing (something about the school administration promoting ‘holistic, well-rounded, there’s-more-to-life-than-grades-but-we’ll-pull-you-out-of-participating-in-your-club-activities-if-you-fall-below-a-B-minus-in-a-class’ students), you ended up in clubs that finished at the same time. You even ended up attending the same university, and would shuffle back to your dorms from late night library camp outs.

Wonwoo had always been a quiet kid, preferring to listen rather than contribute to conversations. He had no trouble entertaining himself either. You’d learned that it wasn’t that he lacked a personality— the guy was fucking hilarious— it just didn’t come out unless he was comfortable. He was just introverted and making friends wasn’t as easy for him as it was for other kids.

But were you really one to talk?

If you were in a self-reflective mood, you’d cop to being an eighth of a teaspoon more extroverted than Wonwoo. Large crowds were a major turn off, as were loud places. You needed to mentally prepare for a hang out with more than two other people. Going home immediately after school to co-exist in a room with Wonwoo was more appealing than joining a group of classmates to venture into the busiest shops your hometown had to offer for trendy Insta pics. It was safe to say you were as much of an introvert as he was— plus, the two of you lived nearby and there were no other kids close to your age in the neighborhood. It was only natural that you would gravitate toward each other. So you grew familiar with the little boy with rounded cheeks, rumpled dark fringe, and chubby yet abnormally nimble hands (probably from the hours he spent immersed in gaming).

The difference between the two of you was that while Wonwoo wholeheartedly embraced his withdrawn nature, kept his tight-knit circle of friends, and basked in the comfort of frequent solitude, you made the effort to become more extroverted. What if people thought you were standoffish if you repeatedly declined their invites to outings? Would your classmates not like you anymore? Would they distance themselves from you?

The fear convinced you to agree to more spontaneous ventures far outside your comfort zone. You admittedly had fun with your friends, but it didn’t diminish the dread curling in the pit of your stomach leading up to the outing or the absolutely wiped daze in your eyes when you returned. The brutal cycle of social gathering followed by exhaustion repeated at a pace that completely obliterated any opportunity of recharging from the realm of possibilities.

You lasted a little over two months before retreating back to the familiar routine of walking home with Wonwoo to decompress after the long school day. The frequency of your adventures out with your friends reduced to a few a month, which was way more manageable for your limited social battery. Wonwoo hadn’t brought up the short-lived attempt, instead resuming the pattern of meeting up at the side entrance where towering trees cast shadows that spilled out across the concrete, the occasional splatter of sunlight poking through the branches. The conversation always flowed naturally with him, from goofy things your classmates did to the books you were reading lately (“You already bought it? Nice! Can I read it after you?” “Yeah, just don’t tell Jun I gave it to you. He already asked to borrow it, but you read faster than him.” “You’re my most favorite person in the whole world, Wonwoo.” “I know.”)

It was here that you determined that you and Wonwoo were each other’s safe space.

Not long after, Wonwoo’s baby fat disappeared from his face nearly overnight, replaced by a sharp jawline and a thin, long nose that accentuated the intensity of his eyes. He sprouted up at an alarming rate in comparison to his peers and, despite his willowy bone structure, he began to unintentionally intimidate others. It could be attributed to your shy disposition, but if you hadn’t already known Wonwoo before, you didn’t think you would have had the courage to approach him either. A laughable notion, really, considering how timid and gentle-hearted he was. Still, while he didn’t comment on his newly-perceived scariness, you knew he wasn’t exactly fond of his reputation.

You had the kind of friendship where you did small favors for each other all the time, so you decided to work your magic.

If your classmates saw a little bit of his less guarded side, maybe it would help him seem more approachable. After all, fear comes from the unknown, and Wonwoo didn’t readily disclose much about himself. No matter; you figured things could only go up from here.

“Do you want to eat lunch together tomorrow?” You glanced to your side where he was walking at a comfortable pace, carefully observing for slight changes in his expression or body language that indicated he wasn’t feeling up to it.

“I need to finish my Korean homework.” The subject wasn’t difficult for either of you, but Wonwoo tended to leave it until the class period before it was due. While you admired the confidence, you couldn’t stand the apprehension repeatedly ringing the doorbell of your subconscious when you had an incomplete assignment.

“We can work on it together.” You tried again, this time earning Wonwoo’s mildly suspicious gaze. Despite recently getting a hair cut, Wonwoo’s fringe grew at a quick pace and was already a few inches shy of completely concealing his forehead. Due to his grown out fringe, you couldn’t see his eyebrows, but you knew there was a furrow to them that wondered what you were up to.

“I guess we can do it tonight then.” He relented despite knowing you’d completed the assignment in class today. Wonwoo studied your face for a few beats, not understanding your unusual demand to spend the lunch period together. Were you overwhelmed by your rowdier friends? Was someone being an ass to you? Sure, you were pretty bashful when given attention, but you weren’t the type to let someone walk all over you. If it was too much, you’d tell someone before it escalated. Wonwoo decided to drop the matter and wait until tomorrow’s lunch period to press further.

You sat on the floor of his living room that evening, Wonwoo’s gangly legs folded crisscross on a plush floor pillow while you laid on your stomach just out of arm’s reach. He used a textbook as a flat surface to write on and you pretended to double, triple, and quadruple check that your answers were, in fact, correct for a subject you had a perfect grade in. In reality, you were performing mental gymnastics to solve Wonwoo’s predicament. You doubted eating lunch together would really improve his reputation significantly, especially since you were far from being the poster child for outgoing. Inviting him to join your friends was out of the question—they were too much even for you sometimes and you would never subject him to that. Maybe there was something he could at least enjoy doing that would earn him some positive PR.

“What?” He demanded, lips pursed slightly as he caught your attention on him and not the homework spread out on the floor before you. You just smiled in response, a cheeky little grin that Wonwoo could not for the life of him discern meaning from. All he knew was that you were definitely plotting and that he’d just have to accept that he was going to be along for the ride.

“You should check number four again.” Wonwoo advised.

“It’s right.” You responded blithely, not bothering to glance back at the worksheet.

“You sure about that decimal placement?” He prodded further, pressing his lips together in a thin line to stamp out the smile that threatened to break out.

“Uh-huh,” You insisted, just as unshakable as always. You batted your eyes a few times before grinning a little toothier than usual. “Are you done yet? You swore you’d play New Leaf with me.”

The impatient tilt of your head and the thrum of your fingers on your folded up arms was entertaining. Wonwoo smirked before turning his attention back to his already completed assignment. “Did I?”

“I’m gonna go play with your brother.” You pushed yourself up to your knees, already bouncing up to stretch out your ankles. “Bohyuk! Wanna pl—“

Just as quick as you’d called for his brother, Wonwoo’s hands flung out, palms up in surrender and nose scrunched up in distaste. “I was kidding! Don’t invite that.”

Lunch the following day was peaceful— uneventful even— as you spread out the contents of your lunchbox as fair game and Wonwoo followed suit. You peeked up at him while he helped himself to the meat in your container, fidgeting with the strap that held your lunchbox closed and twirling it around your pointer fingers. Just before you could open your mouth to begin the conversation, Wonwoo beat you to it.

“How are your friends?” He questioned, expression trained neutral, seemingly in the interest of making small talk. Wonwoo fishing for information was about as subtle as a brick wall, but you seemed to perk up at the topic. Unknowingly, he’d made this much easier for you to bring up. The lanky fool had played right into your hands.

“Great!” You chirped, eyes bright as you leaned across the table towards him. “One of them asked about you actually! Wants to know if you’d play basketball with him.”

This is so not where Wonwoo thought this conversation was going. Still, he decided to entertain the idea since you seemed excited about it.

“Which friend?” He asked tentatively, utensils resting on his lunch box. He fought the urge to scrunch his nose up in distaste, lest he clue you in that he was planning on declining.

You blinked a few times, buying yourself a couple seconds to formulate your answer so it wouldn’t result in an immediate refusal. “Um, you know the tall, goofy one who choked when he tried to drink milk through his nose becau—“

“Mingyu plays basketball?” Wow, Mingyu had really made a name for himself and hey! That wasn’t an outright no! Sure, he was a bit of a dumbass at times, but he was a good friend and fun to be around. In small doses. Spaced out. Super spaced out.

He’d love Wonwoo!

And Wonwoo would… probably be okay.

“Yeah! He really wants another person to play with and you’re pretty good.” You were laying it on thick with the compliments, fanning the flame of his ego to convince him that this commitment would result in absolutely no regrets. Your hands balled into tight fists as you stared at Wonwoo hopefully, the reflection of the sunlight gleaming in your eyes.

His mouth pursed in contemplation and a thick silence blanketed the air in the room. Then, he retrieved his abandoned chopsticks from their place balanced on the edge of his lunch box and breathed out, “Alright” before digging back into your lunch.

With a satisfied nod, you scooped up your own set of chopsticks and immediately delved into the spinach salad Wonwoo packed. You hummed appreciatively, the corners of your lips tilting up in a satisfied smile.

In the following weeks, Wonwoo joined Mingyu a few times a week on the basketball court. Just as you suspected, learning that the tall, reserved, and intimidating looking Wonwoo enjoyed basketball was enough for your classmates to drop the narrative that he was unapproachable. That said— his social circle didn’t expand much, but he was quite compatible with Mingyu. The slight tension in his shoulders relaxed and the tightness of his jaw released once he wasn’t overly conscious of how other people perceived his choice to keep to himself.

Another unexpected outcome of this development was that when club activities became mandatory, Wonwoo didn’t have to agonize over what club to choose. He and Mingyu signed up for basketball together without much thought.

Meanwhile, you joined the volleyball club. In all honesty, Wonwoo hadn’t seen it coming. Absolutely zero shots fired about your athletic abilities, but he hadn’t seen you play. Like, ever. His loss apparently, because the team captain was over the moon about the talent you brought to the team.

“When did you start playing volleyball?” He inquired on your journey home. There was an oddly shaped jumble of unease that fought for space in his chest against his ribcage at the realization that there was something about you he didn’t know. He was an observant person. How could he not know that he had been friends with an ace volleyball player for this long? It was a major blow to his pride.

“I never really played,” You began your explanation with a light shrug of your shoulders. “Like, I helped a friend practice a ton and learned something I guess.” You reasoned uncertainly, a contemplative tilt of your head as you didn’t quite comprehend this skill you possessed out of left field.

Oh, okay. So he wasn’t inattentive. You were just a fucking prodigy. Good to know.

“Let me know when you have a match.” Your eyes darted to his at the unexpected request and Wonwoo curled his hands into the long sleeves of his jacket before continuing. “I want to see you play.”

He locked his gaze in front of him, unable to gather the wits to gauge your reaction. His round glasses had slipped further down his nose than he preferred them, but he made no effort to correct their resting place. Wonwoo’s vision had always been complete garbage, and the time he spent focused on video games had not served his eyesight for the better. His glasses were cute though, and you’d told him as much the first time he wore them around you. Overall, he felt neutral about his frames, but being able to clearly see the board at the front of the classroom, the leaves on trees, and the smaller details of your face he hadn’t noticed without them were enough to convince him to wear them consistently. (“Since when did you have like, individual eyelashes?” “You mean like, how everyone does?” “… Huh.” “You knew people have individual lashes. Wonwoo, you knew people have individual lashes, right?”)

“Okay.” You agreed easily, pressing your lips together lightly to stamp out the smile threatening to curl the corners of your mouth.

The attention awarded to you for joining club volleyball came from not just your own class, but others too. If you were aware of any of it, Wonwoo noted no indication of it— as far as he could tell, you loved the purely recreational sport and that was that. He didn’t doubt that you were a wonderful player, but a lot of the attention had been created by your team captain who missed no opportunity to boast about his team in general. According to other classmates, you more than lived up to the hype and Wonwoo wanted to see this unexplored side of you and support it.

It quickly became evident that other people were interested in seeing unexplored sides of you as well.

In a completely unsubtle way that only Mingyu could manage, he asked Wonwoo during basketball practice if you were talking to anyone.

“How would I know?” Wonwoo scrunched his nose in bewilderment. “She’s in volleyball now, not here.” He lunged for the basketball in Mingyu’s possession, fingertips just grazing the bumpy texture before Mingyu pivoted out of reach. While Wonwoo was one of the tallest at your school, Mingyu had hit a major growth spurt early on as well and stood a couple inches above him. Where Wonwoo was more lithe in frame, Mingyu was slightly broader. It was an interesting dynamic for basketball— Wonwoo’s speed and coordination against Mingyu’s strength and stamina— but it made the game entertaining.

An impatient groan ripped out of Mingyu, his head tossed back in irritation. “No, you—“ He sucked in a grounding breath, gathering his remaining shreds of sanity. In this moment, Wonwoo nabbed the ball from Mingyu, tauntingly bouncing it close enough to lure him to make a grab for it. “I mean like, does she like anyone? And I mean like like.” He quickly added on the clarification, unwilling to sit through Wonwoo’s journey of comprehension.

Wonwoo ceased dribbling, straightening up. He lifted a hand to dab at the sweat pooling around his temple and slicking his hair to his forehead to process the question. “How come?” He inspected Mingyu, a defensive edge narrowing his eyes and hardening his gaze. It was different from the steely quality he possessed while playing— while that one was impartial, this one was more personal and unnerving.

“A guy— well, a couple guys wanted to know.” Mingyu shrugged off the imposing weight of his stare, carefully noting Wonwoo’s reactions in turn. Wonwoo could tell by the twitch of his mouth and the rigidness of his spine that Mingyu wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. Smart.

“She’s not interested.” End of conversation. Wonwoo resumed dribbling, faking the intent to try and weave past Mingyu’s arm that belatedly stretched out to block him, only to take the shot from right there over Mingyu’s head.

A clean shot.

“Man!” Mingyu whined, shaking his head in a way that spoke of betrayal and heartbreak. “Cold blooded.”

At least— Wonwoo thought you weren’t interested.

“You go on ahead,” You waved him forward, the strap of your school bag slipping off your shoulder and into the crook of your elbow. “I have a quick thing to do.”

Wonwoo turned back to face you, fists squeezed deep in his jacket pockets where his hand warmers were nestled. You hadn’t made plans with your friends— you would have left from school with them if you had. Were you meeting someone?

“I’ll come with.” Your eyes shifted nervously to the side and your teeth dug into your bottom lip. The tip of your nose was bitten red from the wind and your entire form quivered from the sting of the cold.

“It’s okay, I’ll be quick.” You tried again, gesturing over your shoulder toward the way you were headed. Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed at your blatant attempts at evasion. It was fine if you were going to see someone, he just would rather you be upfront about it instead of hiding it from him. You didn’t keep each other in the dark and you certainly didn’t avoid each other either.

“Then let’s be quick.” Wonwoo insisted, already striding in the direction of your detour. You begrudgingly relented, huffing irritably and shuffling quickly to pass him and lead the way.

Wonwoo blinked at you, really wondering if his vision was actually bad enough to flat out hallucinate. He anxiously glanced around at the (blessedly) mostly empty store and back to your form seated on the tile floor in the aisle. Like, not even crouched to look at something stocked at the lower level— no, ass fully sat on the linoleum.

“What are you doing?” He breathed out, weight shifting back and forth between his feet nervously. You scrunched your long sock as far down toward your ankle as it would go, a handful of display products balanced in your hand in addition to a dozen q-tips. Wonwoo shuffled closer to you in an attempt to conceal your at best questionable behavior from the sole employee occupied with her phone at the checkout counter and the few wandering customers. From above, he observed you pop the lid of a tester, carefully collect some product with the q-tip, and hunch over to swipe it just above your ankle bone.

“Hey,” He hissed then, jerkily nudging you with his knee as a demand for your attention and answer.

“It’ll leave a stain on my wrist and I’ll get caught.” You explained, unwilling to be more cooperative with the guy who refused to let you make this trip solo. You tried to get him to go home, and now he had to live with his conces quencing. Neither of the two colors you tried so far stirred anything in your heart. You discarded the q-tip in the waste bin stationed near you and repeated your process.

“It’ll leave a stain when you wear it and you’ll get caught.” Wonwoo reasoned, a desperate clip to his tone.

“Not if I find one that’s close to my lip color.” You denied reality. Wonwoo paused for a brief moment to consider whether or not you heard yourself. There was nothing really wrong with shopping for a tinted lip balm (even though he would prefer you to do it standing— you know, be socially acceptable and all that), but your school didn’t allow students to wear makeup. When were you even going to use this? You’d never even expressed interest in makeup until today. Once again, nothing criminal, but completely out of the blue.

“Why do you want that?” Wonwoo prodded in an effort to understand the mental gymnastics of it all. If he was being honest, he was still stuck on you seated on the floor.

“‘Cause if it’s close to my lip color, I might not be—“

“No,” He interrupted, pressing his fingers slightly below a brow to ease the beginnings of a pulsing headache away. He was abruptly empathetic to Mingyu for some inexplicable reason. “Like, why do you want it in general?”

“I don’t,” You began, attention fixed on the array of products gathered before you. Wonwoo still hovered behind you, waiting for the remainder of your reason. “I don’t like how I look after volleyball.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Because literally who did you know that looked good after club sports? Disheveled and out of breath was kind of the standard across the board. Also, he saw you right after clubs finished to walk home together everyday. You looked fine. Sure, not quite as put together as you were during classes, but your mussed hair and flushed cheeks were kind of charming— lively and youthful, even. The only people who even saw you were your teammates and him, so—

And Mingyu’s conversation from the basketball court snapped the missing puzzle pieces into place. Multiple guys were interested in you and were sneaking in to watch you practice. They were going as far to ask around about you, to the extent that they’d approached Mingyu to really approach him and dig for information about you. There was no way your social butterfly of a team captain hadn’t clocked it and immediately leaped at the opportunity to fill you in.

Did you like, like one of them?

“Trying to impress someone?” Wonwoo prodded, not quite successful in keeping the judgement at bay. His teeth grit together, trying to maintain a neutral expression despite you facing away from him. All at once, he wished that he could see your expression while simultaneously feeling relieved that he couldn’t.

“No, I just don’t like people staring at me when I look like that.” You fiddled with the lid of the lip balm, snapping it in and out of the closure groove.

So you were aware of the attention— too aware of it, in fact.

For someone so uncomfortable with other peoples’ gazes, you sure weren’t doing you— or him for that matter— any favors by parking yourself on the floor of a beloved cosmetic store in the early evening. But now was not the time to vocalize that thought when he had just scraped an insecurity out of you with about as much tenderness as he would have used trying to knock out the last bit of peanut butter from the bottom of the jar. So yeah, he was going to keep that one in the drafts for now.

There also wasn’t really any way for him to solve your problem. When it came down to it, insecurities were a battle fought with yourself. He doubted that anything he said or did would really resolve your feelings about yourself. That being said, he wasn’t going to withhold his thoughts or actions that might encourage the feelings to fade. He was also more than willing to hold the door open for them to leave and slam it shut on their way out.

Fuck the dumbasses who kept sneaking in to watch you practice and ignoring the fact that they were making you uncomfortable. And a little bit fuck your team captain too for allowing it to happen and even somewhat encouraging the behavior.

Wonwoo squatted down, hooking his large hands under your elbows, and scooped you into a standing position despite your bewildered fumbling. Once you were hauled up to your full height and turned around to face him, he abandoned his purchase on your elbows in favor of sandwiching your cheeks between his warm palms. Or maybe it was your cheeks that were warm? Either way, you were focused on him, maintaining eye contact for the first time since you’d left school that day. Wonwoo lightly shook your head, your cheeks squishing and eyes scrunching closed under his ambush. Once he was satisfied with his work, he stopped, waiting until your eyes blinked away the disorientation and opened to settle on him again.

“You’re pretty.”

It was quick, definitive, and without room for discussion. Before you could even fully process the previous five seconds, Wonwoo cut off any protests, hiking up his long sleeve on one arm to reveal a forearm splotched with a particularly nasty navy colored bruise.

“Ah, shit.” He tugged his sleeve back down over his knuckles, then switched to his other unblemished forearm. Both him and Mingyu were pretty abrasive basketball players and, with their combined lankiness and Mingyu’s net negative coordination due to his lack of spatial awareness, elbows and hands were destined to smack into the wrong places.

“Here.” Wonwoo extended his arm out to you. “They don’t check guys for makeup because they’re sexist.”

You stared at him, eyes wide in disbelief. After a brief nod of encouragement, you quickly resumed your work. Your hand cradled his forearm, holding it steady as you brushed on ascending lines of lip product, tinting his skin various shades of pink. His skin was hot under your touch and felt fuzzier than the cotton swab. Eventually, after waffling between two shades that were essentially the same but actually just slightly different, you landed on your choice.

Wonwoo went to school the following day with an impressive gallery of stains streaked up his arm underneath his jacket, but only the two of you knew that.

You were caught wearing the tinted lip balm before the end of first period, your homeroom teacher demanding you scrub it off with a tissue. And as you inspected your appearance in the bathroom mirror, lips bare, there was an absence of inadequacy burrowing in your chest, instead replaced by a peaceful indifference. When you returned to class, the self-conscious slouch anchoring your arms to your sides had dissolved, but only the two of you noticed that.

Your team captain insisted that practices from now on be closed off to visitors, slamming the doors to the gym shut with no consideration for the students trying to sit in. He reasoned that the other students were a distraction and that if they were that interested in volleyball, then tryouts were scheduled for the third week of the next semester.

Wonwoo had been the one to make this request, but only he and your captain knew that.

Old habits either die hard or they don’t die at all, because even in university, your tradition of walking home together persisted. Freshman orientation was essentially hazing for introverts, and your silly orientation leaders decided to host a dinner for the incoming class— a thinly-veiled excuse to get fucking hammered beyond coherent speech. Plus, the schadenfreude of watching a group of kids experience their first and absolute worst time consuming alcohol was too good for them to pass up.

A little over an hour into the mandatory event, you were so beyond over the whole thing. You’d eaten your fill and stopped politely laughing at the upperclassmen who thought they were just so charming at least thirty minutes ago. Drinking was, as you expected, over-encouraged and heavily pressured. At one of the mentors’ insistence, you knocked a shot or two back and sent him stumbling back to the end of the table furthest away from you. It wasn’t your first time consuming alcohol, and you had no intention of exceeding your limit around a bunch of strangers. As far as you were concerned, they could suck it.

Wonwoo sat across from you, usually sharp eyes glazed over at an autographed picture on the wall of someone famous posing with the owner of the restaurant, jolly grins and peace signs thrown up. You shifted your weight, shuffling around in your seat to generate just enough movement in Wonwoo’s field of vision to snap his brain back from outer space. His blurred eyes honed in on you— he hadn’t participated in drinking with the upperclassmen either, also disinterested in drinking in the unfamiliar environment, yet cursed to exist in the moment all the same.

Slowly, intentionally, you blinked twice.

Want to ditch?

Wonwoo tilted his head to one side in what could have easily been a stretch of his neck.

Fuckin’ yeah, I do.

You pursed your lips, eyes flickering once to the door and back to him.

Sensational. At the same time.

Less then two seconds later, Wonwoo raised to his full hight while you swung your legs to the aisle created by the two long tables. He half-heartedly nodded to a few of the people around him that noticed he had stood, and you successfully slipped into an opening. Now that you were on your feet, the alcohol diffused to the rest of your limbs and head quicker than you anticipated— nothing concerning, you were just a little more buzzed than you planned to be. What a fantastic indicator that it was time to pack it up. With a brief flash of a smile and farewell to the kind-enough girl next to you, you made your swift exit to where Wonwoo waited for you at the end of the aisle.

The most genuine smile you had seen from him all evening quirked the corner of his lips up, and the dim, yellow lighting in the restaurant cast a warm glow in his dark eyes. He’d left his hair more rumpled than usual today, the gentle waves softened his appearance a bit, but still accentuated the crisp angles of his cheeks, jaw, and eyes. Gone were the last bits of gangly, awkward teenage proportions, instead developing into striking features of a charming young man. Since senior year of high school, Wonwoo had only sprung further upward, although unlike his middle school growth spurt, he had actually broadened considerably this time. The thing was— Wonwoo was kind of a walking dichotomy. He preferred oversized clothing that concealed the lines of his frame— it completely fooled everyone into thinking he was pretty lanky, but you knew that to be completely false. His form was large and imposing, both in height and broadness, but the changes in his build were only obvious when you stood this close to him. He chose to wear an oversized grey sweatshirt this evening that you’d seen many times before. The sleeves were stretched out from his tendency to tug them over his hands.

You trailed behind him as he blazed the path to the door. Wonwoo pushed the door open, a rush of biting night air dropping your internal temperature substantially. He stepped outside, holding the door open for you to pass through. Just as you moved to cross the threshold, the girl that sat next to you called out, “Get home safely!” You turned to acknowledge her, and your coordination must have been more influenced than you had initially realized, because your foot caught on the ledge protruding from the doorframe. You gasped and braced for unforgiving concrete and a banger of a concussion during syllabus week.

Wonwoo lunged— legitimately lunged— to secure your shoulders in his arms. The back of your head thudded against his chest and your back flattened against his torso. Your fingers latched onto Wonwoo’s sturdy arms suspending you just above the concrete and you huffed in deep breaths to regain your bearings. Holy shit.

“You okay?” Wonwoo’s round glasses had shifted down in the scuffle, balanced precariously at the tip of his nose.

Still disoriented and searching for your center of gravity, you breathed out, “Yeah, yeah— I’m okay.”

Gingerly, Wonwoo straightened into an upright position, bringing you with him. To your credit, you only fumbled slightly when searching for purchase with the soles of your shoes.

“Go a little too hard a little too fast?” He was joking, poking lighthearted fun at the circumstances of the entirely avoidable situation. His hesitant grin was partially contained by residual concern for your physical wellbeing— sure, he’d saved you from a cold greeting courtesy of the concrete, but did you twist your ankle on the ledge?

“Should’ve gone faster, harder.” You quipped, giggling at the absurdity of the last three hours. Wonwoo squatted down beside you, carefully taking your hand nearest to him and guiding it to rest on his shoulder for stability in the event that you toppled over for a second time that night. Despite the chill of the air seeping through your clothing, an unfamiliar heat sweltered in your bones. You wondered if Wonwoo could feel it pulsing at your fingertips where they pressed into the well-worn material of his sweatshirt, but his attention was preoccupied with your ankle. The bottom of your pant leg was rolled up a few times, and Wonwoo’s long, slender fingers prodded at the exposed skin with a tenderness that absorbed the strength in your knees— you’d have fully buckled onto his broad shoulder had you been fueled by anything other than spite to remain standing.

“How does this feel?” He peered up at you, the question visible in his dark eyes, all the while smoothing languid circles into your ankle with his thumb the same way he toggled on his game controller. The weight of his gaze seemed foreign, not quite suffocating, but somewhat sultry. It was an oddly sensual moment, and you didn’t know what to make of that. Probably the alcohol doing its rose-tinted thing.

“It feels good.” You answered more truthfully than he would ever know. But the street outside a restaurant overflowing with your peers was not the place to unpack that. He unrolled your pant leg, tugging it back into place before standing again and insisting that you two get going and escape the cold. You weren’t cold, and you could make out the slight glow of sweat on Wonwoo’s skin, but you chalked it up to the exertion of his impressive dive mere minutes ago.

In all of the years you spent with Wonwoo, you could count the number of times he’d caught you off guard on one hand. He was a man of habit and predictability— it was familiar and cozy, and you appreciated the reliability of him. He hadn’t changed, still the same in his careful, intentional movements, but he somehow knocked you completely off-kilter that night on the sidewalk.

Metaphorically speaking, in this instance.

You, on the other hand, were a bit of a wild card in Wonwoo’s eyes. He knew you well— like he knew the layout of his house well enough to slink to the kitchen in the middle of the night to get a glass of water without flipping any lights on. But every so often, there would be something that wasn’t present before. He would smack into it, take a moment to process the new entity, maybe feel around and familiarize himself with it, and then carry on as usual. To date, the discovery that you were an excellent volleyball player remained the most prominent surprise in his memory.

Nearly two months into your freshman year of college, you blew that one out of the water.

Wonwoo approached you from behind while you were perched at one of the large desktops in the library. He could tell you had a document open— even with his shit vision, there was no mistaking that layout and that obnoxious shade of blue that triggered every students’ fight or flight instinct. But you were missing the anguish of someone writing a paper, no tense hunch to your shoulders or irritated furrow of your brow. Instead, you seemed at ease, reclining easily into the back of the chair, expression focused but neutral. Your movements were unhurried as you navigated your screen with the pitiful library mouse held together by oddly crinkled scotch tape.

What the hell were you working on?

“Hey,” He murmured in greeting, conscious of the people working around you. But then he got a glimpse of your computer screen, and in contrast to your unbothered form, Wonwoo became the embodiment of immediate, deep, bottom-of-the-soul resentment. Pulled up proudly on display were screenshots of some of the most heinous, crude, and honest to god incriminating text messages he’d ever read. His jaw clenched, teeth gritting together painfully at the unimaginably inappropriate names and descriptions littered throughout the one-sided chat. Wonwoo’s eyes pierced the name of the sender exhibited at the top of the screen like he could somehow impale them through the bubble of their initial. He didn’t know them, but he was about to. At the beginning of the thread was a single message from you, a polite and firm decline of an invitation to “hang at his place.” The animosity simmered in the pit of his stomach, boiling up his chest and scalding his throat and tongue as he snarled, “What the fuck?!”

You twisted around in your chair, taking in Wonwoo’s rare hostility and the attention it earned you from other people in the library. His low timbre was always soothing to listen to, but the abrupt change from still waters to rough husk was a commanding force.

“Hi,” You beamed up at him, eyes practically twinkling, apparently unaffected by the images on your screen.

“Who the hell is this loser?” He bit, cheekbones more angled than typical as he hollowed his cheeks. His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip, a futile attempt at keeping the malice at bay. Wonwoo was many things, but above ripping this guy a new asshole? Certainly not.

“Oh,” You swiveled to glance back at the screen, sure enough, the incel vomit remained on the monitor where you left it. With practiced ease, you quickly resized the final screenshot in the series, enlarging it to a near comical degree. “Just a silly goose.”

Wonwoo stood stewing in silence as you clicked file and selected print with a too-cheerful click of the barely-holding-on mouse. He had maybe just short of a million questions firing rapidly internally. How did you even meet this guy? Did you have classes with him? Where did he live? Was he deathly allergic to anything? No, not for any particular reason, just curious. Does he walk home alone at night? How long had he been bothering you?

The only question he managed to voice was, “Why are you making these, like, gigantic?”

That was when he noticed that the sparkle in your eyes this entire time had been mischief. The grin you flashed was significantly wider than your natural smile, and possessed a rascality he hadn’t seen you wear before. It looked sickly saccharine and promised chaos. You looked ferocious. It looked good on you.

“How else is his grandmother gonna read it?”

Wonwoo’s heart swelled with pride. It pumped into the organ until it reached its maximum capacity and expanded until his chest ached in elation. Of course you were going to rock this guy’s shit. And in front of his family no less. Wonwoo physically could not contain the cackles that erupted from the bottom of his stomach, folding over at the waist from the force. He clutched at your shoulders in an attempt to remain standing and gasped in shuddering breaths. Eyes crinkled closed, nose scrunched upward, and smile lines on display, Wonwoo seemed to have unlocked a new level of joy.

“You are just fucking magnificent.” He praised in adoration, planting an affectionate kiss on your forehead. You short-circuited at the warmth that bloomed from the press of his lips on your skin.

This was new. You weren’t even sure it actually happened for a few beats, convincing yourself you’d simply imagined Wonwoo bending over you in the library to kiss you. Wonwoo kissed you. Like it was normal. And you couldn’t short-circuit in front on him because then it wouldn’t be normal.

Rapidly, you snapped back into the moment, coyly tucking your loose hair behind your ear. “Aren’t I just?” A large hand buried itself in your hair at the top of your head, giving it a playful ruffle. Wonwoo smoothed out the bumps he had created immediately after, delicately combing his fingers through and working out the minor tangles.

He was still going to rip this guy a new asshole.

After the incident outside the restaurant and especially after the moment in the library, there was an obvious shift in the dynamic of your relationship. Or maybe your relationship had changed before then and you just hadn’t picked up on it. Because while you were second guessing every action, word, and expression, Wonwoo seemed entirely in his element— unfazed even. It seemed that kissing your best friend was an entirely normal thing for him to do, despite having never done it before and generally not being all that open to physical affection.

You didn’t want to be uncomfortable around Wonwoo— he had been your safe space for as long as you could remember. But the once-clear waters of your relationship had turned murky and tricky to navigate. More disorienting was the fact that Wonwoo wasn’t uncomfortable. At least if he had been, you could acknowledge whatever this weird, new thing was and figure this out together. But you couldn’t bring it up like this and risk Wonwoo denying that anything was different between the two of you.

Things were different though. Like, was Wonwoo auditioning for the role of boyfriend or something? Because while he had always been attentive, things were escalating at a dizzying, heart-fluttering pace.

Wonwoo seemed to always have a hair tie around his wrist— always had since he witnessed you struggle to eat without your hair slipping into your face when you were kids and heard you grumble that you forgot one for volleyball. He’d offer you the hair tie and you’d gush out something appreciative along the lines of, “As expected, you’d never let me down.” Even now, he’d unhook the elastic from his wrist on particularly windy days, or when he’d watched you toss your hair back one too many times when you were studying, presenting it to you in his outstretched palm. You hadn’t thought much of the sweet gesture until now.

The escalation of this routine came when Wonwoo began tying your hair for you, wordlessly gathering your hair with long, nimble fingers and securing it low and loose out of your way; he always avoided wrapping it too tightly or too high, anxious of causing you a tension headache. The brush of his warm hands always brought you back to where you sat in the library, processing his kiss and affectionate touches. The tips of his fingers would sweep the sensitive skin of your neck from behind and you would still, anticipating the pressure of his lips against your heated skin again. But it never happened.

Overall, Wonwoo was more touchy lately— not exactly a high hurdle— and you just didn’t know how to act. You know— other than soak it up. You were more than receptive to being spoiled by his physical affection, be it platonic or romantic. After fumbling through the first week of the new development of sides pressed together, tender hands brushing hair out of your face, and the light pressure of his chin resting atop your head when he approached you from behind, you decided to return it enthusiastically and see if you could finally force Wonwoo’s hand.

You found him reading while leaving one of your classes, his form relaxed on one of the benches that lined the courtyard. His neck was craned down, attention focused on his class reading, expression neutral. Despite still being deemed intimidating and off-putting by those who never spoke to him, Wonwoo was undeniably dashing in his quiet confidence. The sharp angles of his cheeks and jaw only became more accentuated during college (perhaps a result of the poor college student diet) and his already-penetrating eyes intensified when he chose to forego glasses for contacts— which wasn’t very often.

You detoured out of his line of vision to close in on his back, careful to keep your steps light. Successfully avoiding popping him out of his study bubble, you looped your arms over his wide shoulders, leaned into his back, and chimed his name in greeting. Immediately, he tilted his head up to meet your eyes with a lopsided grin, his eyes twinkling knowingly— Wonwoo could smell your shampoo wafting in the comfortable breeze as you neared. Now, with the close contact of your skin, he could smell the light moisturizer you had used since you were in middle school. He permitted himself a deep inhale, reveling in the clean, fresh scent.

“Hey,” He greeted, voice low and clear. The faint wind ruffled his hair— he had allowed it to grow longer than it’d ever been before, which still wasn’t very long, but the waves grazed his eyes in airy wisps. “Good class?”

You hummed affirmatively, taking the opportunity to card your fingers through his tousled hair with a practiced ease like you’d done it for as long as you’d known him. He dissolved into your touch, clicking his tablet off and trading his classwork for your attention.

“Vibe night?” He asked like you had ever previously declined or planned to decline a night spent relaxing together at one of your places. It was just like how you would retreat home from school to one of your living rooms to do homework, read, play video games, or whatever in each other’s presence growing up. The escalation here yet again entailed increased physical contact and noticeably domestic undertones. Some days you’d accompany one another grocery shopping for dinner and snacks before kicking the night off.

On days where the academic grind had vacuumed the life force out of the both of you, it was a detour to a restaurant to get takeout. You had your go-to spots that you rotated through, dependent on the weather and your moods. By now, the employees recognized your pair and your typical orders. One of the last times you’d visited during midterms two weeks back, the elderly owner of the Thai restaurant had been delighted when you stepped in, announcing joyfully that you had visited on couples night so he threw a dessert on the house into your to-go bag.

It wasn’t uncommon for the nature of your relationship to be misunderstood, so you began to gently correct the well-meaning man with a polite smile. Before you uttered a syllable, Wonwoo’s deep voice vibrated beside you, graciously thanking the owner and fluidly swiping the paper bag from the counter where your hand was stretched to curl around the handle. Instead, Wonwoo’s large hand not occupied with the to-go bag enveloped yours and on instinct, your fingers squeezed around his.

With a farewell and another ‘thank you so much!’ the two of you exited the restaurant hand-in-hand. You expected him to drop the act and by extension your hand once you were a decent distance away from the windows, but Wonwoo kept your hand secured in his the entire walk home— which you would never complain about. The temperature had dropped for the season and the sun had already set under the horizon, so you would soak up the extra warmth emitting from your joined hands, burrowed into his jacket pocket. You could always rely on Wonwoo to purchase the coziest clothing, always fleecy and pleasant against your skin. His coat did not disappoint, the fuzzy lining offering you an excuse for how overheated you felt with your hand engulfed in his.

But that was two weeks ago when you were still flustered by Wonwoo’s abrupt swell of affection. If you were being entirely honest, his affection still shot prickles down your spine and numbed your fingertips, but you at least knew to expect it by now. Now it was a matter of being capable of having the same effect on him.

“You already know.” You agreed easily, before tacking on. “Whenever and however you want me.” You were absolutely referring to what time he wanted to meet up and at whose apartment, but to pass on the double entendre was a wasted opportunity. Wonwoo’s form went rigid under your touch, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. The ‘error 404 Wonwoo not found’ pop up was clear in his abruptly vigilant eyes. Flashing him a smile that spoke of nothing abnormal in your choice of phrase, you wished him a good class, manifested him being let out early, and blew him a kiss in farewell, a bounce in your step as you retreated.

You got him. Was it enough to convince him to make his move? You’d fuck around and find out, you supposed.

Later when Wonwoo finished his last class— from which he did get let out twenty minutes early (“You are so welcome.” “We got out because we finished his material.” “Because I’m magic. You should be super nice to me and let me choose the game.” “You can choose the game because it’s your turn, not because you’re magic.”)— he trekked to the library where you were busting out an assignment at an alarming speed to gather you for the night. You snapped your laptop shut, reaching for your bag you’d hooked on the back of your chair, only to discover Wonwoo was already holding the edges open for you. With an appreciative grin, you slipped the laptop into the padded sleeve and zipped it closed. Wonwoo fixed the straps of your bag over his shoulder, ignoring your insistence that you could carry it yourself, and together you walked to his apartment. Tonight, you didn’t hold hands on the journey and there was no fuzzy electric charge to the moment. It was as it usually was, with soft laughter and quiet recounts of your days just like it always has been.

Everything was just like was before until you entered his apartment.

Wonwoo held the door open for you to pass through the threshold, slipping in behind you and hanging both of your bags on the empty hooks lining the entrance. You wiggled out of your well-broken-in sneakers without undoing the laces and reached for the shoe cabinet by the entrance, but Wonwoo beat you to it. He crouched before the cabinet and snagged your designated pair of slippers, wordlessly placing them by your feet. Once you swapped into the slippers, he threaded two fingers under the tongues of your sneakers and neatly set them in the cabinet. Then, he followed suit and changed into his house shoes. It was hardly anything out of character for Wonwoo—he was always considerate, but your blood pulsed ferociously in the veins of your wrists at the small gesture.

It would have made sense to venture into the apartment instead of remaining in the entryway, but you stayed and watched as Wonwoo turned to face you. Your eyes met and the static charge returned to your fingertips. You swore his eyes darkened as they flickered further down your face. The limited space of the alcove demanded you hover in each other’s personal space close enough for a slight shift in your weight to force you to unintentionally brush against each other. The slightest touch would result in a static shock, you were positive. Wonwoo hovered closer and your breath was trapped at the top of your throat— if he adjusted the angle of his head, then he’d—

“Hungry?” He murmured, low tone fluttering in the pit of your stomach. “There’s some of the spinach salad in the fridge.”

Fuck auditioning for the role of boyfriend— this man was fully auditioning for the role of husband. Acts of service and making sure you were fed? Sold! To the man with abysmal eyesight and the instinct to anticipate your needs!

Unfortunately, you were far too queasy to trust yourself to eat anything at the moment. A damn shame, because you really did love his family’s spinach salad. “Later,” You promised. He didn’t press the matter despite knowing you hadn’t eaten since early that morning due to your packed class schedule. Nodding in agreement, Wonwoo pressed a large, warm hand to the small of your back, encouraging you into the apartment.

Immediately, you padded over to the large couch in the living room, folding up into your corner and snatching your emotional support circular throw pillow to rest your wrists on while you gamed. Wonwoo passed by the entertainment center, retrieving your designated controllers from the cabinet and waking the docked Nintendo Switch before heading toward the couch. He maneuvered around an arm chair, nabbing the throw blanket draped over the back. Once close enough, Wonwoo settled the fuzzy blanket across your lap, fixing the areas that bunched up, and then passed you your controller.

The blanket hadn’t always been a fixture of the living room. It was during your third time over at Wonwoo’s apartment when the two of you were watching the last few episodes of a drama when Wonwoo noticed you curled up and shivering. You’d intentionally worn long sleeves that day because the apartment was a freezer box— full blame on Wonwoo’s roommate who liked to live in the arctic— but it wasn’t sufficient to shield you from the unrelentingly glacial winds generated by the air conditioning. The last time you were over and frostbitten, Wonwoo had swaddled you in one of his oversized sweatshirts that smelled like freshly-washed laundry and a hint of something muskier. The cuffs were stretched to conceal your hands, likely from Wonwoo repeatedly tugging the fabric over his own hands when he wore it. When he heaved himself off the couch and disappeared into the hallway, you expected him to return with another one of his sweaters, but instead he brought back a crème colored blanket that he’d evidently just bought based on the tag he wound around his fingers to tug off with a snap of his wrist.

“Sorry, I forgot.” He smiled, a little sheepish, and handed you the blanket.

Ever since, the blanket had been yours. Its home was in the living room of Wonwoo’s apartment, waiting for your return.

Now, he dropped into his place on the couch cushion next to you. With a few rapid clicks of his thumb, the jingle of the Nintendo Home Screen sounded through the speaker system. Already queued into the first slot was Animal Crossing because it was your pick tonight, and you’d always pick Animal Crossing. It was here that you knew that Wonwoo was always a couple paces ahead of you, and he always knew what you needed.

He sensed the weight of your unwavering gaze and turned his attention toward you, about to ask you something, but the words died before he could even think them into existence. The controller he gave you sat abandoned at your side, your hands instead curled into the throw pillow resting on your thighs. Wonwoo was always ahead of you, perceptive of your every need. The slight tremble of your bottom lip, the glassy haze in your eyes, and the shallow rise and fall of your chest told him exactly what you needed then. He wouldn’t make you ask twice.

After carefully depositing his controller on the coffee table, Wonwoo shifted toward you, keeping his attention on your eyes in search of any indicator that you wanted out. He’d back away if you wanted, go back to lounging on the couch and playing video games with you if you gave so much as a hint that it was what you wanted.

You didn’t. A comforting hand that had held yours in his jacket pocket for warmth, combed through your hair to tie it out of your face, and hoisted you up from the floor of a cosmetic store gently settled at the back of your head— his hands were always big and safe. You curved your lips into a small, reassuring smile, and Wonwoo understood. In a split second, his free hand snatched his thin, round glasses from their perch of his nose and tossed them onto the coffee table. Then, your eyes fluttered shut and he closed the distance.

The static sensation returned full force, numbing your body with that fuzzy feeling that made you lightheaded, but you could still feel Wonwoo. Everywhere he touched sparked your nerves back into functioning condition. You could feel his safe hand resting on your waist and the heat diffusing from it, gently rubbing small circles into your skin with his thumb— just like he had done to your ankle. You could feel the confident force of his lips on yours, firm and slow, like he was savoring you, drawing out the moment for as long as he’d waited for it— he’d stay here with you for even longer than he’d waited if you wanted. You wouldn’t stop him. Trading your purchase on the pillow for the shoulders of Wonwoo’s dark blue sherpa jacket, you tried to pull him closer, unsatisfied with how distant you felt despite your physical contact. Wonwoo seemed to agree with the sentiment, slightly pulling back from your lips so that your noses still lightly grazed with every minuscule shift.

Your eyes blinked open when you registered his sturdy arm coil around your back, only to fall breathless again. His sharp eyes possessed an intensity you hadn’t seen him wear before. It wasn’t intimidating, but your skin flushed at the fervor. His usually neat enough dark waves were fluffed up; you hadn’t realized you’d done it in the moment, but one of your hands had languidly trailed up the back of his scalp moments ago. With slick coordination that surfaced every so often, Wonwoo slightly lifted you, slipping beneath you and settling you in his lap. Much better.

You discarded the fuzzy blanket pooled on your lap off to the side—you appreciated Wonwoo’s sweet gesture, but it was only in the way now. He reclined into the back of the couch and you swayed right after him, abdomen flushed against him and your arms looping behind his neck. His build really was a whole lot more athletic than you realized now that you rested on his powerful thighs and his firm back shuddered under your palms. Wonwoo tilted his head up and to the side, a lopsided smile quirking the corner of his mouth, gums just barely peaking out— his bottom lip was more pigmented and puffier than usual. His high cheekbones glowed in the dimmed light from the TV, and you don’t think you’d ever seen him so rugged before. The expression could have been mistaken for being haughty— you knew him better than that though. It was still that same smile that spoke to his softhearted nature, the one that had him doting on you as easily as he breathed. You answered his grin with an eager press of your lips, relishing in the cautious pressure of his tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

That was how Soonyoung discovered the two of you, rounding the corner that connected the hallway to the living room and damn-near smacking the back of his head on the wall in his haste to retreat. Then, Jihoon stepped out of his own room and approached him, disgruntled by Soonyoung’s hand spasming and smacking against his chest.

“Look at our boy.” He whispered, a proud gleam twinkling in his eyes, not missed by Jihoon. Uninterested, Jihoon poked his head around the corner, immediately regretting it and whirling to criticize his silly-ass roommate.

“Don’t watch them, you fucking creep.” He hissed. And with that and a nose crinkled in immense judgement, Jihoon crept back into his room, ignoring Soonyoung’s insistence that he hadn’t been watching.

“What made you tell me?” You asked, breaking the peaceful silence while you relaxed on the couch, still nestled together, then clarified. “Now, I mean.”

“I was sure you’d figure it out eventually.” Then Wonwoo huffed mirthfully at that adorably optimistic belief he held onto for over six years. “And then we were well into college and that never happened.”

Your blank stare and light press of your lips told him you were both unsatisfied with his answer and knew him well enough to call him on the probably half-true bullshit. No way did he just get impatient and go ‘fuck it.’ Unless something happened, Wonwoo was capable of waiting decades before making his move. He would have, had his instigation of increased physical affection been received uncomfortably by you. But he was always under the assumption that you weren’t interested in a romantic relationship and not that you were unaware of his long kindled affection for you.

All things said and done, there was no harm in waiting to pursue a romantic relationship with you. Wonwoo had always been a significant fixture in your life, whether his role was friend or romantic partner didn’t add or subtract from the quality of your relationship. The both of you had always had each other anyway.

“I met up with Mingyu,” Wonwoo admitted, a bashful grin tugging a corner of his lips up. “And he asked me how you were.”

You blinked, not quite following his line of reason. “Okay?”

“But he asked me like, ‘How’s your girlfriend doing?’ And I told him I hadn’t asked you out.” He spoke at a rapid fire pace, and if you hadn’t engraved his speech pattern into your chest, you would have had to ask him to repeat himself. “He lost his mind. Like, the disappointment was palpable.” He recounted with an exhausted droop of his eyelids. “Told me to pull my head out of my ass, that it was pathetic that I liked you for years and did nothing, and that he’d come visit himse—“

You stiffened at that information, interrupting him. “Wait, Mingyu knew that you liked me before I knew that you liked me?” Seriously, Kim Mingyu figured it out before you? Sure, you weren’t in grade school anymore, but according to Jihoon, Mingyu had very much not changed. (”I heard from a friend at his college that he almost choked at orientation because he tried to drink soju through his nose on a dare.”)

Wonwoo winced sympathetically, corners of his eyes crinkling in the same way they did when he physically could not contain his joy, and his hand moved to smooth the loose hair out of your face and tuck it behind your ear. “Yeah, I know. A bit of a low blow there, huh?” An understatement.

Your chin returned to its resting place on his chest, a self-reflective frown quirking the corners of your lips down, and sighed, “Man.”

A husky laugh huffed out through his nose before turning into hearty chuckles that heaved his chest up and down, taking your form relaxed on top of his with it. “Don’t sweat it.” Wonwoo reassured, thumb lightly brushing your cheek, a warmth in his dark eyes that you were slowly becoming familiar with seeing your reflection in. “I still love you.”

It wasn’t the first time Wonwoo had caught you off guard with his blunt delivery of significant information. He tended to come to conclusions early on and then fold them over a few times to stash them in his back pocket like he would a receipt. Out of sight, out of mind, but still always with him nonetheless. It was entirely possible that Wonwoo carried his love for you shoved deep in a nook he hadn’t paid much attention to for far longer than he, or you, or anyone realized.

Maybe he loved you when he intentionally packed a large serving of your favorite spinach salad his dad made for your scheduled lunches together in grade school. Or it could have been when Mingyu unintentionally let slip that you asked him to play basketball with him to improve his reputation. He had to have known it to be true when he willingly offered his skin as your canvas for lip products. Then it was reinforced by that abysmal orientation dinner you both bailed on. And again every time you surprised him, and when you didn’t, and he knew exactly what you were going to do or say or need. He loved you in the second controller he brought with him when he moved into his apartment, decorated with your favorite Animal Crossing villagers. He was never just giving you a blanket on the nights you spent curled up together in his apartment— he was handing you far more than that.

Wonwoo was content with you simply accepting the affection he offered, but your reciprocation was very much welcome and celebrated. With the way you cared for each other, he doubted much would change about your dynamic—he didn’t mind though. This was comfortable and warm, and as always, you were together.

You examined the lines of varying shades of pink swiped up your wrist, glistening under the fluorescent overhead light. So far, none of the swatches stirred anything in your heart. You slipped the tester back into the designated notch on the display and plucked the next one out of its home, twisting the applicator out.

A familiar hand appeared from behind you, cradling your outstretched arm in long fingers to steady it. Warmth pulsed under the pads of his fingertips and bloomed into your wrist. Wonwoo peered over your shoulder, thoughtfully surveying the array of glosses painted on your skin. Then, he tapped his index finger twice to the side of one of the samples, “I like that one.”

“Yeah?” You crane your neck to cast a coy gaze over your shoulder at him, fluttering your lashes for effect. “Buy it for me and I’ll let you kiss it off me.”

He knew you were absolutely serious by the mischievous grin and twinkle in your eyes. Wonwoo nodded in agreement, his eyes dark, and pressed a tender kiss to the side of your head. He adjusted so his lips lightly grazed the shell of your ear, sending that fuzzy feeling down your neck and spine.

“Pick three.”

౨ৎMasterlist

[megumiluvv]

These next three days are going to be hell. That’s what Toji tells himself at least. You just left on a trip to your family to celebrate your father’s birthday, and Toji didn’t want to go (your father isn’t fond of him), so you left him to watch Megumi.

That means no work, no going to hang out with Shiu, and no gambling, unless he brings the kid. But he doesn’t want to bring Megumi, imagine the looks he’d get! Baby carrier around his body to press the kid against him and keep him close, backpack of baby supplies on his back, he’d be pretty easy to detect while working, and everyone would stare in public!

The first day, he tries just staying in, but to his dread, he forgot to buy formula when shopping, so he has to go to the store. He has to search for a how-to on the baby wrap carrier, and stares at himself for a moment. He thinks he looks funny. A scary man with a dumb-looking baby (Megumi looks just like he did as a baby).

He gets to the store and walks to the baby aisle, grabbing the formula and a spare bottle since he doesn’t remember if one is clean yet. He gets looks from other moms in the aisle and glares at them, daring them to say something.

Toji stops to look at clothes, refusing to admit to himself that he softened up a bit imagining Megumi in the cute little outfits. A blue shirt with bunnies on it, matching shorts attached, and a little hat to keep his head warm. A green onesie with a hood to make the baby a dinosaur. A white shirt with two dogs cuddling, cargo shorts to match. A blue onesie with sharks.

He can’t keep his eyes off of them, so he grabs one of each in Megumi’s size, and one of each in a larger size just in case the baby grows too fast. He double checks that he got what he originally came for, then goes to the self checkout.

When he gets home, he feeds the now-fussy kid, and changes his diaper. He looks at the outfit with bunnies, and puts it on the boy.

“Smile for mommy,” Toji says, only because the kid won’t remember and you’re not around to catch it. He photographs the baby and sends it to you, smirking as you heart the image.

“Guess she found a new lock screen, kiddo. I did good.” He decides to call Shiu over and watch some sports game to somewhat gamble without exposing the kid to smokers and drinkers, as well as loud noises and germs.

“Okay, if they lose, I’ll take that stupid job next week.”

“And if my team loses?” Shiu smirks at the sight of Toji holding Megumi so gently.

“You have to babysit unpaid for the next five times.”

“Deal.”

Toji’s team won, much to Shiu’s dismay, and the two say their goodbyes and Shiu leaves. Toji puts Megumi to bed and lays down. It’s oddly quiet without you. He hasn’t had this silence in so long. He decides to ignore it and sleep.

The next two days are pretty uneventful, he doesn’t go out much, not out of embarrassment anymore, but he’s convinced Megumi will get sick.

You come home in the early hours of the morning, Toji’s loud snores bring your eyes to the couch, your son on his chest, sleeping just like his father. You grin and notice how the house isn’t a mess. Dishes are done, laundry put away, is that a new outfit on Megumi? You smile more. You knew Toji could do it.

Masterlist

[amorchai]

hey ! can i request a blurb for george weasley ? gn reader of any house, reader plays quidditch and george knocked them off their broom badly with a bludger, and maybe with the prompt "here, lean on me. i can carry you"

𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇.

pairing(s): george weasley x hufflepuff!reader

words: 1115

warning/tags: hufflepuff!reader, injury, pining, one sick mention ( not graphic! )

apologies it's not of any house! i feel like it's hard not to when it's playing hogwarts quidditch matches.

the well awaited hogwarts quidditch finals had arrived, and to say the gryffindor’s were full of adrenaline was an understatement. like ravenclaw, gryffindor’s were cheering for the hufflepuff team when they were up against slytherin the previous week.

george didn’t even mind the constant teasing from his twin brother when he gaped in whatever direction you were flying. you flawlessly glided past the aggravated opponents with the quaffle and scored the house sporting yellow and black seventy points while your seeker had kept a watchful eye on the snitch.

the joy he felt when slytherin lost was mixed with a slight dread from realising just how skilled hufflepuff team had become, mainly down to your amazing play. harry had never looked as tense over a match until the morning of the finals, trying to be a confident captain and lead them to the hogwarts quidditch cup.

fred and george had been making snarky remarks in the locker room the moment harry pep talks everyone up. angelina was nodding enthusiastically along while others paced around nervously. ron looked close to being sick, again.

but all words were lost on george for a split second when he stepped onto the pitch, broom in hand. and it wasn’t due to the ear-splitting cheers or the outstanding weather for such a final – but the image of you waiting beside your team.

“good idea, we’ll catch the snitch quick with your mouth wide open,” fred muses beside his brother, patting his shoulder. never had the colours black and yellow looked so good until now, you looked nervous; and from how well you played, george didn’t understand why.

you send the group a smile as they approach, and george forces himself to pull away his gaze. after the game, after. he had a final match to help his team win.

his red-robed arm bumps your shoulder, leaning down to your ear when madam hooch discloses her final wishes and rules. with a whisper, george’s breath tickles your ear, “you know. when we win you should come to our party sporting red, it would suit you.”

you try not to smile, lips pursing ever so slightly before you respond, eyes not glancing away from the quidditch teacher, “so will the quidditch cup.”

impressed, george stands tall while stealing some more glances at your pretty features before being beckoned over to their positions. “good luck, y/l/n,” his tone is teasing, flirty when he walks backwards to where he’s needed and when you lock eyes it’s replaced with a hitched breath.

“good luck, weasley.”

your soft voice echoes in his mind when he sits upon his broom and awaits the whistle, watching you kick off and aim for the quaffle madam hooch throws in the air. george suddenly realises he’s the only one still on the ground, and kicks up.

he tries not to batter the bludger too close to you throughout the first twenty minutes, however, this causes you to score twice. george looks around confused when the whistle blows moments after you score again, harry calling for a time out while moving from his seeker spot and towards the tall boy sporting long ginger hair.

“george, focus!” harry rages, gesturing to the bat he holds and has hardly used so far. you’re moving past them, on your way back to hufflepuff’s side, “i’ve seen you play, weasley. don’t go easy on me now.”

he laughs, smiling widely as you ride away. george doesn’t notice the look harry gives him until a clunk against his skull pulls him away from his reverie, fred’s own bat lightly tapping the back of his twin’s head.

“you’re gonna make us lose the final over a crush?” harry asks, loudly. george just shrugs, chuckling before responding, “i won’t go easy, then.”

throughout the game, george gradually pulls himself out his head and focuses on winning. angelina scores a few times while harry and the hufflepuff seeker woosh past at false alarms of the snitch.

for a moment, george is too focused on winning that he acts as if he’s playing against the slytherin team, seeing the quaffle nearing the goalposts that ron nervously protects and sends the next bludger burling over.

gasps fill the stadium after an echoed crack when the ball crashes into your arm. you yell in pain, tipping your broom as you lean down, cradling your arm with your uninjured side. upon instinct, george drops his bat and rushes over to descending frame, grasping the tipped broom to ease you down slower.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he ignores the shouting from teammates and the crowd, the whistle seemingly so far in the distance as madam hooch tries to reach the ground. george watches as you cry in agony, helping you off your broom and examining your clearly-broken arm.

“i know i said don’t go easy but i didn’t mean aim for my limbs,” you quip sarcastically through sniffles. “i’m so sorry,” george says again as madam hooch approaches, tutting as she examines it herself.

with calloused thumbs peeking through his fingerless quidditch gloves, george wipes your cheek from salty tears as the teacher responds, “oh dear, straight to the infirmary for you, i’m afraid. we’ll add in someone else for the rest of the match.”

george pulls back to turn to her, your frame leaning into his, “let me take y/n there.” professor mcgonagall and sprout are running across the grass to reach them now, fearful eyes. the scottish accent of his head of house cuts in, “you have to play, mr weasley!”

madam hooch nods in agreement, “it was my foul! i hit the bludger, replace me as well, it was foul play! i’m taking y/n to the infirmary…” george rushes, gently urging your good arm over his shoulder.

“here, lean on me. i’ll carry you.” after a hesitant glance, you comply when george sweeps you off your feet, “i can walk.” he’s glad that you’re still quipping with him through the pain as he walks briskly past the teachers and towards the castle where madam pomfrey will await.

“i’m so sorry,” george ushers once more, feeling terrible at the side of your arm upon your shaking lap, continuous painful tears falling down your cheeks as you glare at him with a small, forced smile, “say that one more time, and see what happens, weasley.”

with a grin, he nods in pretend agreement. however, you quietly continue with a small, “heard you have a crush on me, then?”. george leans down to kiss your forehead while responding, “wow, i didn’t realise i also got your head injured,” his smirk telling you he’s teasing, the match far beyond his thoughts in that moment.

amorchai masterlist . taglist form

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[nylwnder]

muddy mess

a/n: hiiiiiiiiiiiiii my bbs!!!!!!!!! okay, i have made you guys wait so long for this and i honestly never expected this to end up at 6k?? didn't even know i am capable of such a word count but its all for uuuu guys!! i hope you love it as much as i loved writing it (even if it took me longer than i would have wanted, in which sorry pls forgive me <3 i hate uni) i added some suggestions from u guys (like making the reader latina again!). also yes, this is indeed the end of the smutty series and i absolutely loved this opportunity to be soooo slutty with you guys!!! dw, i have a lot of ideas still flowing and i can't wait to share that during the rest of 2025 :) enjoy whores!

pairing: william nylander x latina!reader 

warnings: SMUT!! oral (f! receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, dog walker!reader, use of spanish (with translations in brackets), swearing, mutual pinning, just being lowkey obsessed with each other, pablo and banksy referred to as willy's kids (cause they are), beau mention!!!!! (my dog <333333)

word count: 6.3k

taglist:  @shoot-the-puck, @lukepangburn118 , @hawkeyefierce , @boqvistsbabe , @sweetiet , @p1tstop , @occasionallyaurora , @laurenairay , @fallinallincurls , @andrea9 , @dylpickle4791 , @biznastysloneshift12 , @dramatic-queen , @willianmylander

series masterpost 

the day was nice, one of the reasons why autumn was your favourite season. the air is a welcoming crisp, enough to wear a long sleeve or a lightly layered outfit, complimenting the bright and shining sun that grazed everyone’s faces. the city was bright with warm tones, the yellow and orange leaves littering the ground like a sunset. 

you had gotten ready in the morning to head to your first client, your only client, your favourite client. you hooked the leash on your own dog, beau, and headed out the door. walking to the apartment building you know all too well, welcoming yourself to the front desk per usual. 

once the elevator doors sprung open to the correct level, beau had made his way to the door in excitement. smelling through the crack and wagging his tail. cracking open the lock with your key, you’re met with your usual sight: three dogs greeting each other in pure joy. afterwards, the other two greet you with licks to any and all exposed skin. 

“hola chavalitos, ay si mi preciouso!” (hi kiddos, oh yes you cuties!!) you exclaim. 

you close the door behind you, as the pups run to the living room to continue saying hello. beginning to play with some toys while you grab the necessities for pablo and banksy. willy always left everything you needed neatly for you on a table everytime he left them for practice, a game or a road trip. you always appreciated his consideration, sometimes wasting far too much time trying to find a leash or a harness in a crowded mess with other clients.   

you call pablo and banksy over, kneeling down to get them all geared up while beau waits patiently beside them. “you are such good boys aren't you!” you smile, patting one before turning to set up the other. 

you must admit, you have never walked more well behaved dogs in your life. sure there was the odd excitement for a squirrel or an eager pull to the dog park, but never a hassle and always something you could manage. in all honesty, you didn't even really need the leashes, since william has accustomed them to behave perfectly fine without them. but for safety and formality, you chose to do so. 

that also meant you couldn't deny working full time for william, when he asked. with the way his schedule seemed to mesh perfectly with your life, not to mention the way beau had managed to bond with his adorably curly rascals—and william—it seemed like an easy decision. willy also made sure to meet up to expectations, to make sure it was worth it to invest all your time in him and his pups. sure, you would have done it for free, out of pure love and care for pablo and banksy… and william, but this was your job. your source of income for the moment. and will understood that. 

that also meant the butterflies and fuzzy feeling you felt whenever you would catch willy still in the apartment, fresh out of the shower, shirt nowhere to be seen and sweats hanging deliciously low around his waist, was to be pushed aside. and buried. deep, deep underground. 

you had to ignore the way your heart pounded a little faster and a little louder when his hand would gently touch your waist to catch your attention on a matter before he left. or the way his fingers would grace your own when he would take the boys’ stuff out of your hands. 

or hide the blush that laced your face when he would offer to hang out when he was back. or call you on his free days. you didn't have to say yes, maybe you really shouldn't have, to maintain a sense of independence and professionalism, but you said yes, because you wanted to. you wanted to so fucking bad. 

and you definitely had to stop feeling the small ounce of jealousy whenever you found a particular article of clothing that certainly belonged to a girl, scattered somewhere on the edge of the bed or near the back of the couch. not to mention, that one day you were met face to face by a girl in the kitchen, startled by your presence. you were about to explain yourself before william came out to introduce you to her. 

you could notice the way her eyes watched you with a layered sense of bothersome, and you couldn't help but smile. when she noticed the way william spoke to you, with joy and ease. words laced with love and gratitude. with the way he hugged you, in front of her, holding you against the stern build of his chest. his hands falling low, to the small of your back. he thanked you quietly and gently in your ear. not just for taking care of pablo and banksy, and loving them like him (if not more), but for being there for him. and with him. for making him smile. for being you. 

he did that often. 

—

you guys did your usual walk around the yorkville area. heading to the park and letting the boys roam around and enjoy their time together. you always stopped to let them smell and explore, it was their walk after all. 

you made it to the off-leash area, unhooking their leashes and closing the gate behind you, making sure no other pups escaped while you entered. the boys ran around, greeting other pups and engaging in playful games and fights. beau wasn’t too much of a social dog and easily gets overwhelmed, so after a few sniffs he makes his way back to you. he hops up on the bench that you were sitting and watching from. 

you gave him a few pets around the ears, “all done today, bubs? buen chico!” (good boy!) your phone then suddenly began to buzz in your pocket. 

standing up slightly to grab it, you see your mother’s picture on the screen. “hola mami” (hi mom) 

“mija, como estas?” (my daughter, how are you?) 

“bien mamá, estoy en el parque con los chuchitos. y tu y papi?” (i’m okay, just at the park with the dogs. how are you and dad?) 

“ay chavala, siempre estás en el parque, siempre con esos perros. cuando vas a encontrar un buen hombre mija, ah?” (you’re always at the park, and always with those dogs. when are you going to find a good man, huh?)

“mamá…” 

“william! siempre estás con ese william. y él? estás seguro de que solo cuidas a sus perritos?” (you’re always with william. what about him? are you sure you only take care of his dogs?)

“si, mamá. for the hundredth time, i'm just the dog walker.” 

“mhmm, y yo solo soy tu madre. y le has dicho que te gusta? no estoy diciendo que tengas que casarte con él mañana, pero—” (and i'm only your mom. have you told him that you like him? i'm not telling you to go marry him tomorrow but—)

“ay dios mío, mamá no estoy saliendo con william!” (oh my god, mom im not dating william!)

“entonces, por qué sientes que desearías estar saliendo con él? estoy segura de que a él también le gustas, nena.” (then why does it feel like you want to date him? i'm sure he likes you too, sweetie)

you play with your hair, standing up and turning to check on pablo and banksy, completely distracted by your mother’s interrogation. not like you should have been surprised, this isn't the first time. 

“okay. lo único que digo es que si no te arriesgas, el universo podría empujarte en la dirección correcta.” (im only saying, if you don't put yourself out there, the universe might just push you in the right direction)

“okay mamá, tengo que ir. te amo, cuidate.” (okay mom, i have to go. i love you, take care)

“te amo también, cariño. tu papá te llamará después del trabajo, vale?” (i love you too, sweetie. your dad will call you after work, okay?)

“okay, bye.”

only a single breath after your words, you find your foot slipping in a hidden patch of mud near a part of the fence. you go flying forwards, your phone tumbling down in front of you. you crunch the dry leaves on the floor and begin feeling the cold and moist ground under you. the dogs bark, coming to your face and sniffing all around you. banksy jumps on you, you gently push him down to allow yourself to get up as quickly as possible. 

this cannot be happening right now. 

groaning, covered in mud from knees to torso, you mumbled to yourself…“she cursed me”.

there weren’t many people inside the dog park at the time, that doesn’t mean you didn't feel a heavy wash of embarrassment flood over you. not to mention the fact that the people who did witness the accident didn’t offer a hand or ask if you were alright. perhaps because you leashed the dogs and left equally as quick as you fell. 

you walked all the way back to william’s apartment with a huge brown patch of dirt covering the entire front of your body. you kept your head low, and walked until you reached the comfort of the familiar sliding doors of the elevator. turning to look at the mirror behind you, you looked hilarious. 

the elevator opened and you unlocked willy’s door, letting the dogs free. you made sure to not step too far into the apartment, not wanting to make too much of a mess with your muddy shoes. you left them neatly in a corner, planning on cleaning them after you cleaned yourself up first. 

yes, you could have walked back to your apartment and gotten into your own shower. but you did not feel like walking another 10 blocks with eyes scattering towards you while you smelt like dog shit. because you did. since it probably was a mixture of both that you so beautifully chose to land on today.

william was supposed to make it home from a road trip sometime in the afternoon, so you knew you had time. plus, he had mentioned that you could use anything you wanted when you were over, “whatever you need” he assured you. anyways, you have stayed over at his place when he's been gone for long roadtrips, to ensure his boys eat well and are taken care of besides a walk. you knew the place like the back of your hand if you were being honest. hell, he’s even caught you singing to selena and dancing with the pups when he’s come home. 

did he join you? perhaps. he can't deny that he enjoyed the view. the domestic-ness of it all. it was always him & his dogs in the city they call home. but when was it going to grow by one? the one. 

that being said, you never actually used his shower before, going as far as stopping by at your own place to do anything like that. plus it allowed you to switch out the clothes you had packed. it was something you felt you should do, to establish those boundaries and solidify your professionalism. but right now, he would understand the situation that you were in. no, he wouldn't mind you assured yourself.

you walked into the bathroom, grabbing a plastic bag on your way over to put your clothes in so they wouldn’t dirty the floor. you got in, relishing in the welcoming drip of water, and awaiting the fresh and clean scent of soap. 

his body wash. it stood on the shelf before you grabbed it. the smell was intoxicating, as you poured it into your hands. it smelled like him everytime he passed by you after practice. everytime he left before a game. the days he's hugged you, the scent still lingering in his neck and his hair. 

it felt wrong. maybe you really should have gone home. but you were already in here. “its fine i’ll be done before he gets home.” you mumbled. 

clothes. what were you going to wear? no you couldn't possibly grab one of his hoodies and sweats. maybe you could put them in the washer. yes of course, thats what ill do… but what if he comes home by then? what will i wear? i’ll be naked!

you quickly scrubbed yourself clean, all over your legs and stomach, the dirt having transferred through your clothes and stained your skin. you could do this fast and he wouldn't even know you were in there. but then the door opened and you heard footsteps and waddles and happy whines coming from the dogs.

he's here. 

you heard him greet the dogs like usual, and could sense his figure getting closer towards the bathroom. he called out your name. 

ay dios mío, “in here!” 

“everything alright?” he asked, standing near a corner so that he couldn't see through his standing shower, respecting your privacy. 

“had a bit of a, um- muddy mess…” 

you heard him giggle, and you couldn’t help but feel a tad embarrassed again. he mentioned he saw your shoes at the door. 

“i’m sorry, i didn't really wanna walk all the way home like that. plus i'm pretty sure i fell in dog shit.” 

he shared a chuckle again. “that's okay, told you, whatever you need.”

you continued to rinse. “i’ll be done in a sec.” silence fell between the two of you but you could feel william hadn't moved from his spot. 

“do you want some help?” he asked. it could pass as a gentle, genuine and innocent question from the outside. but was it more layered than a friendly check in? oh most definitely. 

yes. yes. yes. “no i’m fine. i can manage.” 

another silence hit the air, but your mind was racing, and your mouth spoke before you had time to acknowledge that fact. 

“just, my clothes. need to wash them.” 

you heard the bag rattle from outside the shower. “could help if i rinse them under the water first” william says, tone calm and calculated. 

this between-the-lines conversation between the two of you was beginning to feel more real by the second. the feelings the two of you have for each other are beginning to get stronger and stronger. you didn't know how much longer you could rub it off. 

“is that okay?” he asked, the words like a spell lulling your rationality away. 

“yeah. thats okay.” more than okay. 

you hear a bit of shuffling before the shower door opens. your heart is racing, pounding in your ears. 

his eyes catch yours the second he makes his way inside. he makes sure to keep them there, never going down, not even if he wanted to. because he really wanted to. 

you're known to be such a poised person. presentable, confident and almost always at ease. but william makes you nervous, not like anything you’ve ever experienced. it's insane really. 

he inches closer to your figure, your clothes in his hand. you're backed up against the wall, noticing the way he's fully clothed. and the more he got closer to you the more his shirt started to get wet. and his pants and the ends of his hair. 

“willy” you mutter, soft and sweet. 

william had been fighting the urge to grab you by the hips and kiss you for two years now. a cruel amount of time really. “baby, can i?” he asks, quietly and gently. 

“mhmm” it comes out more whiney than you had anticipated. your composure completely lost. 

his lips connect with yours and they mold into each other like you’ve done it before. forming a rhythm together like it was habit. your hand dug into his hair, making a home at the nape of his neck. his body pressed into yours, your nipples hard against his cold wet shirt. you felt a shiver overcome you when his lips parted yours for a breath. 

“you pinche cabrón” (fucking asshole) 

“excuse me?” he asks playfully, with a smirk on his face. he knows the word, he's heard it plenty from you. 

“you made me wait that long?” you say, looking up and gaining a bit of your confidence back. 

“i made you wait? what about me?” he said, a smile on his face. 

“it's not my fault you didn't ask me earlier.”

“well i asked you now..” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in for another kiss. 

“you better show me what i've been missing for two years” you say against his lips, with a smirk.  

“oh älskling, you don't even know.” he says, looking down at you with his signature grin. you giggle back, god you're a sucker for him.  

he hangs your clothes over the gap of the shower door while you tug at his own. he pulls his shirt up and over his head looking down for the first time since he came in here. 

a part of him feels the need to look away, to give you your privacy, but as you stand there before him, your skin covered in water droplets, warm against his own, he can’t do anything but stare. he takes in the curve of your breasts and how the light coming into the shower softly hits your nipples. his hands feel their way down your body, caressing the curves of your hips. his hands continue making their way down, rubbing over your ass and squeezing the bottom of them. a hushed moan escapes you. 

“you're beautiful. truly beautiful.” he says, one of his hands reaching for the back of your head, making you look up at him and smile. blushing just a bit, you're not immune to his charm. you’ll never be. 

his finger comes up and wipes off a smudged mark of mud from your jaw. your fingers ache to reciprocate a touch, so you bring your hand to rake down his torso, feeling the tufts of hair that litter his chest all the way down to the lines that sculpt him. you can feel the heat radiating off of him, alluring and comforting. 

your fingers go for his pants button, willy looking down as you unbutton them and yank them down, along with his boxers. he helps kick them off, grabbing them and hanging them near your own. 

you really don’t know what else to do but stare. “bueno mierda” (well, fuck) you whisper subtly. 

he grabs your chin and tilts your head back up towards him, letting his lips meet yours once again. his arms wrap around your lower back, making you arch off the wall and press yourself against him. water fell through the cracks between the two of you. sliding over your body, you don't know how much it's masking the pool between your thighs.  

you try your best to buck your hips, trying to seek any friction against william, his cock getting hard against you making you spiral. sensing your neediness for a while now, he gives you one last kiss before making his way down, leaving a kiss between your boobs and one on the curved line below your stomach. you hear your heart beating in your ears again, equally as hard as the thud in your core. 

his mouth leaves a sloppy wet kiss right on your clit. “got such a pretty pussy, princess” 

“willy” you moan, he looks up at you with a smirk.

“what's wrong baby?” he asks sweetly, hands on the sides of your thighs. 

you give out a whimper, “please” 

“what do you want, älskling?” he wants to pry those words out of you.

“eat me.” por favor!!!!! 

“that's it, sweets.” he praises, not a single word said without that stupid smile. you keep feeling it against your folds, when his tongue licks a long stripe against your pussy. he groans at your taste doing it once again and again and again. you should be embarrassed by the way your thighs are shaking by his head, william in love with just how reactive you are to his touch. to him. 

“feel better, baby?” 

you internally scoff. “more” you mutter, jerking your hips. 

his smirk takes a bite out of your clit, rolling and sucking it. he moves back down, his tongue piercing your aching hole, his nose bumping into you, your eyes roll back. he was trying to be sweet, soft, gentle—he really was—but you, god, you drive him fucking crazy and all too quickly he's getting rough as he delivers hard sucks to your clit, mouthing at your pussy. your sweet sounds echoing in the small space, it's downright sinful that you could hear the way he's eating you out, even against the shower, the slurps and licks of a man starved ring in your ears.

his eyes flicker up to you to watch the way your face contorted in pleasure so gracefully. he's surrounded by your smell, the warmth of your thighs and your moans and he wouldn't want it any other way. you can't form a coherent thought, your mind is gone and all you can focus on is how good his tongue feels on you, how he eats you with such hunger, dedication and consideration no other man has taken the time to feed you. he lets you grind against his face, lets you use him for your pleasure.

“fuck!” you moan. the tight tug on his hair and your heavy breathing alerts william that you're close. moving his hands up to your hips, he pulls himself up, wasting no time to stick two fingers inside of you. you open your eyes and find his own, glowing with lust, and your lips part when you feel his cock lined up to your entrance, pushing in with one strong thrust. god, he slips all the way in. fills you up so full that you cry, stutter a sob, breath caught in the back of your throat. brain going cloudy, body melting into his and you question if this is real.

but then william grabs you by the ass to wrap your legs around his, pinning you to the cold tiled wall of the shower and you want his arms to keep you stable and grounded. one of his hands is glued to your side, the other kneading one of your breasts, pinching your nipple and making you bite your lip to suppress your moans. 

“you’re so tight, älskade” willy says, suppressing his own whimper. your walls contract around him as he speaks, as his mouth leaves kisses to your collarbone and teeth graze your pulse point. 

a few thrusts was all you needed. 

all you needed until a mumbling spanish mess escapes you. where your hands scratch into william’s shoulder and willy groans at the overwhelming grip you have on him, both inside and out. where your core is a warm and wet and snug nirvana. 

the water hitting you wakes you back up, helps you blink back into reality. held by your utopia, except the man in front of you is real this time, and not just the leading man of your dreams. the face you would pray for at a time you never thought that any of this could happen, that you could never be together.

you keep asking yourself what was that rule you felt you were breaking, when you look into his eyes now. sure, he was your employer, but what HR department can forbid this? when you are two grown adults in a mutual agreement with shared love for two poodle mixes. when the two of you bonded and understood each other more than some of the couples you would see out on the streets and at events. it wasn't pretend between the two of you. it never would be. how could it be? this is the realest thing that could be happening to someone. 

“been thinking about this the second i met you” he murmurs against your lips.

you whined again, pulling him closer with your arms, desperate for more. “then don’t stop”

his grin is contagious, you swear. and you can't help but giggle when he turns the water off and carries you all the way to the bed. throwing you gently on the mattress, letting his cock slip out of you momentarily. 

your wet curls flicker water droplets to your face and neck. william shakes his head and more fall off, each one falling on you. you’re a giggling mess, pushing him gently by the chest and telling him to stop. he shares a laugh, leaning in to kiss you for what seems like the millionth time in the past sequence you two have shared. and yet it's not enough. he needs more, to feel and taste every single crevice of you. love every single atom of your body.

his tongue licks the smeared wetness on your neck, leaving open mouth kisses on the droplets that remain untouched on your skin. your skin grows hot yet goosebumps appear one by one over your figure. the reaction your body has to him is confusing and exhilarating. william is caressing parts of yourself you hadn’t known existed, and each with little fuss. he moves, and you fall apart at the seams. he breathes, and you would crumble at his feet. he looks your way, and you are prepared to kneel at his altar. you get lost in the moment, in his mesmerizingly blue eyes and upturned mouth. 

he licks a stripe up your stomach and a shiver rolls over you. his mouth then attaches to one of your breasts and a gasp escapes you. he rolls it around in his mouth and sucks, reciprocating the action to the other one. your hand moves to the nape of his neck, sharing a light tug on the strands that sat there. “will” you whined, relishing in the movements of his mouth, however eager to feel him deep inside you again. 

“m’sorry sweets” he says, apologizing for his little sidequest. you were just so mesmerizing, he couldn't help but get distracted by you. you smile while he looks up at you. he grabs your hips and shifts you higher up the bed, so your head could lay near a pillow that he dragged down for you. 

he fits in between the slot of your open legs perfectly, leans down to greet your lips so swiftly, grabs the back of your thighs with grace and lifts them to sit on his shoulders with ease. “this okay, älskling?” 

“perfect” you reply, hands gripping his forearms tightly. slowly, he guides himself to your entrance again, rubbing the tip against your clit before swiping down and pushing in. he gives a good hearty thrust, making sure to bottom out, and your breath stutters. you will never get enough of the way he stretches you. 

your fingers move upwards on his arms, letting your nails gently graze him. you look up at him, memorizing every single crease and crevice on his body. he's licking his lips, watching the way your eyes explore him and your cheeks blush at him reciprocating the action. both of you engrossed by the idea of being together like this, while he's stuffed deep inside you, like your cum isnt all over his mouth and fingers and cock. 

will you two ever get enough of each other? no, you simply couldn’t. 

william leans into you more, feeling the way your thighs push into your body. his thrusts began to find a steady pace, one that feeds every single spongy part inside you. the sound of your pussy squelching fills your ears, followed by william’s soft moans, the grumble spilling into your open mouth as he lays a kiss. 

“goddamn sweets, hear how wet you are for me?”

a pathetic whine leaves your lips. the sounds coming from the two of you are so lewd but your toes curl and your head spins and your heart pounds and it's the best fucking feeling you have ever experienced in the world. 

you have never had a man take the time for you. make sure he reaches parts of your body that you weren’t even sure were there. now you know and you don’t ever want to go back.

“cariño” you moan, yanking at the chain that sits around his neck. you pull him down to you, biting down on his lips as you clench around and you hear a whimper escape him. 

the effect he has on you is the same as you have on him. the way you look up at him, with so much love and appreciation. like he is capable of giving you everything you have ever wanted, his heart cant help but swell. he cant help but make sure you feel that love back, cause fuck do you deserve it more than him sometimes. for everything you have ever done for him, for being undeniably you every single fucking day and giving him the priveledge to witness that as close as he has. he's been enamoured by you for so long, he didn't know what to do for much longer if he couldn't have you. 

as both your needs become more demanding, his hips begin to slap against yours. moans and whines slip past your lips before you can even begin to try and stop them, and you cry out as he continues to speed up. the noises he is drawing from your body are embarrassing if you didn't adore the way he feels inside of you to the point that you can think of nothing else. you wish to be like this as much as you can, full to the brim with his cock.

he begins to twitch inside you the more you begin to tighten around him. he even felt it hard to exit you with the way you squeezed him so hard, like you feared he would leave and never come back. he has never felt this deliciously overwhelmed. 

not too long after, you feel a warmth calm the pressure in your stomach, both of you having a sense of heavenly pleasure wash over you, one you both only dreamed of sharing together. one william would wake up in the morning to, cock hard and sore against his boxers. like he didn't have to act normal around you when you came to pick up the kids, but his cheeks couldn’t help but blush. 

“attagirl” he whispers in your ear, as you take all of his cum with open legs in one single final thrust. you blush at the feeling, at his words, at the fact that he has marked you, a silent call that you are his and he is yours and there's no looking back. 

he slides out of you, letting your legs fall slowly to the sides and wrapping his arms around your back, arching you off the bed and pulling you to sit in his lap. he moves the two of you so that he can sit against a pillow and his headboard. your lips connect with his, kissing as your conjoined cum begins to drip out of you and into william’s lap. 

you look back to see, and begin to feel a little shy, a ball of butterflies forming in your stomach, the ones that frequently visit you when you’re around will. you tuck your face into his neck scooting closer to him, wrapping your legs around his form. “you're so hot, baby” willy says, knowing his praise will make you feel less embarrassed by the crude site. 

little does he know his praise makes you all the more needy. 

you feel a desire deep in your core again, and you grind your wet pussy against his softening cock—a surge of confidence has come back to you. 

he gives out a little moan into your hair, hands moving to your hips where he squeezes. “you want more, älskade?” 

you bite your lip, “is that okay?” you can't get enough of him, sue me! you think to yourself. 

“i thought you'd never ask” he replies with a smirk, and you can't help but giggle back. 

you place your hands on his thick shoulders, letting yourself slide down onto him. both of you gasped, he went in so easy with your conjoined juices still around your walls. you rested there for a second, leaning your head back with a moan. you feel william twitch inside you, more sensitive to your core than before. 

“you’re so pretty like this,” willy mutters, slotting his lips over yours, “stuffed with my cock.”

“oh my god,” you quiver, shaking your head, begging for him to just shut up cause he’s making you lightheaded. he’s so deep inside of you, hitting that spot so far back that you so deliciously discovered today. his cock keeps twitching every now and then, forcing a pout onto your lips as he looks at you. you haven’t even moved and you feel so fucking close already.

you begin to roll your hips around, letting his pubic bone rub your clit every time you grind down. willliam’s hands move up your sides, cupping your boobs as they sway with your movements. he shares a whimper at the sight, as you start bouncing on him. though it isn’t much longer before your thighs begin to shake, already inching closer to that sweet release. 

willy wraps his hands around your frame, tightly pressing you into him as he lays down and thrusts up into you. you whimper repeatedly, body instinctively tightening, and he groans roughly, as if the way you clamp down around him is testing every last ounce of his control. 

as william’s thrusts get faster, they also get sloppier. he’s insanely pussydrunk and the only thing going through his mind is you. your name, how good you feel, how pretty you look. you're biting his neck as he pumps into you, sure you're seeing stars as the divine sting between your legs continues. 

you both don’t seem to last long, getting lost in each other once again. willy’s hand is in your hair, digging his fingertips deep into your scalp and yanking just a bit. his own thighs stutter and shake a bit as he cums into your already drenched cunt again. your pussy makes sure to milk every last drop from him as you needily bite another mark into his neck. you’ve wanted to mark him for so long now. 

now you can.

—

you lay against his pillows, the aftershocks still honey-sweet where they thud in your core. your legs still recovering from their jelly-like state as you have them sprawled out. william’s head resting on your propped up thigh. looking up at you while you played with his hair. he reciprocated the tender affection by rubbing small circles on your other thigh. 

he looked at you in awe. proud that he finally had succumbed to his love for you. that he didn't have to keep holding back, telling himself he couldn’t touch you, or kiss you, or spend every waking moment with you. that you didn't have to go home and leave him every time. he couldn’t stop thinking about you since the moment you were mentioned as an avid dog lover by his teammates, a recommended nanny for his boys. he couldn’t get over the way pablo and banksy were so loving and friendly with you on your first meeting and every single one thereafter. the way they would wait for you every single time. 

you are the one.

“when do you have to go?” you asked. 

“like 4 hours or so…” you liked that answer, smiling and running your hands through his hair again. even so, it wasn’t enough. this was your first taste of intimate, domestic life with willy. you didn't want to let go of it yet…. dreaming of staying in this apartment with him, not leaving until you’re left weak in the knees, reaching unwritten orgasm records. just all of it, you want all of it.

“can you wait till the very last minute?” 

“come with me. wear the jersey i got you and come with me.” the jersey in mention obviously being his own. you wore it to a game already once, and felt the tension with him when he came over to greet you after the game, the way his eyes hit yours and his hands lingered around you and the way his jaw seemed strained and tight every time he would see his name written on your back. you went home incredibly flustered that night, that you can admit.

“i can finally do what i was dying to do last time.” he says mischievously, your pussy throbbed at the thought. a thought you had since that night, and one your pathetic fingers couldn't have possibly held up to. 

“hm, but i was going to invite mi papa,” you joked, your purposeful mood killer. seeing the way he rolled his eyes and huffed. “he would love to see you, he loved the game last time.”

“another day, i promise. just not tonight, please.” he says, grabbing you by the hips and bringing you down the bed to reach eye to eye. his cock now tucked against your thigh, semi-soft. 

“fine, but he would have loved to see you guys fuck the bolts.” you both giggle. 

“you better win, by the way. or no extracurricular activities like you have planned out in that head.” 

“is that a threat?” his grin unsurprisingly present.

“you bet on it” you inch closer to his face, words spoken against his lips. “necesitas ganártelo, cariño.” (you need to earn it, honey) william understands your challenge.

“well i will, you can mark my words.” he says, giving your plushy hips a squeeze. his lips envelope yours in a series of kisses, arms wrapping around his neck. 

maybe this would have happened eventually—once you both stepped over this nonexistent barrier between the two of you—but god are you grateful that being covered in shit brought you to this bliss. 

…maybe your mom was right after all.

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[goldfades]

that one clip of Melo cheesing talking ab an interviewers accent when he was asking him a question but with reader 😛😛😛

You clear your throat as you glance down at the lineup of questions scribbled in your notebook, the stadium lights overhead casting a golden hue over the polished hardwood. It’s late—postgame energy still crackling in the air, the smell of sweat and Gatorade lingering.

LaMelo Ball stands a few feet in front of you, all easy posture and loose limbs, towel draped around his shoulders like he barely remembers it’s there. He’s still riding the high of a win, that much is obvious. Grinning, relaxed, adrenaline humming under his skin.

You raise the mic a little. "LaMelo, another strong performance from you tonight—"

Before you can even get to the rest of your question, he tilts his head, brows raising. A slow, lopsided smile starts tugging at his lips, and then—

"Nah, hold up," he says, shifting his weight, dimples pressing deep into his cheeks. "Your voice—yo, where you from?"

It takes you a second to process. "Uh—"

"'Cause I ain't gon’ lie, you sound official," he continues, ignoring the camera, the noise, all of it. His eyes are locked on you, pure amusement swimming behind them. "Like, real professional. Like you're on ESPN or some."

Your grip tightens on the mic, suddenly hyper-aware of yourself, of him. The way he's watching you, head slightly tilted, studying you with a kind of casual intensity that makes your pulse tick up.

You clear your throat, trying to steer this back on track. "I mean, that is the goal, but—"

"Nah, nah. It’s fire. Like, you got that… what’s the word? Articulate. Sound smooth as hell," he muses, rubbing his chin. "Like, if I ain't see you right now, I’d think I was listenin’ to one of them all-time greats on commentary. Real polished."

You blink. Your mouth opens, then closes. You’ve interviewed plenty of players before, dealt with plenty of personalities—some stoic, some playful—but this? This is unfiltered, no-holds-barred, pure LaMelo Ball charm, and it’s aimed directly at you.

"You tryna make me forget my questions, huh?" you manage, trying (and failing) to bite back a smile.

He laughs at that, a low, rich sound, nodding. "Yeah, somethin’ like that."

You take a breath, recalibrating, trying to remember the very professional, very well-crafted question you had planned before LaMelo decided to turn this interview into his own personal game of Who Can Fluster the Sideline Reporter First.

"Okay," you say, voice steady—mostly. "Let's try this again."

He nods, amused, like he’s indulging you. “Let’s.”

You glance at your notes, refocusing. "Twenty-two points, ten assists, five boards—"

"Mmm." He hums, nodding, but his eyes haven’t left you.

You push on. "—shot efficiently, really controlled the tempo. Walk me through what was clicking for you tonight?"

There. Professional. Composed. Nothing to be distracted by.

But LaMelo? He doesn’t even pretend to take this seriously. Instead of answering right away, he tilts his head again, studying you like you’re the more interesting subject here. His tongue peeks out slightly, running over his bottom lip, like he’s deciding whether he should keep this going or let you off the hook.

Spoiler: he’s absolutely keeping this going.

"You know," he starts, dragging the words out slow, easy, "I was gon’ answer that, but now I’m thinkin’ about how good you sound sayin’ my stats like that."

Your fingers flex around the mic. "LaMelo—"

"Nah, for real." He grins, dimples deep and boyish, eyes full of mischief. "Say 'em again real quick."

You shake your head, exhaling a sharp breath through your nose. "You are unbelievable."

"I mean, you don't have to say all of 'em," he muses, ignoring your exasperation. "Maybe just the twenty-two points part. Just real smooth, one more time for me."

He’s teasing, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you—something both playful and annoyingly confident—that makes your stomach do an embarrassing little flip.

You adjust your grip on the mic. "LaMelo Ball, if I say it again, will you actually answer the question?"

"Cross my heart." He makes an exaggerated motion over his chest, but the sparkle in his eye tells you he’s fully enjoying this little back-and-forth too much to stop.

You hesitate. This is ridiculous. He’s ridiculous. But if saying his stats one more time is what it takes to get this interview back on track…

Fine.

You inhale, leveling him with your best unimpressed look. Then, slow and deliberate, you repeat, "Twenty-two points."

The moment it leaves your mouth, LaMelo bites his lip, nodding like he just heard the smoothest lyric in a song.

"Aye, yeah. That’s tough."

Oh, for the love of—

You let your head drop for a second, closing your eyes like you’re searching for patience, but you can hear him laughing, low and satisfied, like he just won something. When you look back up, he’s still grinning, looking at you like you’re the highlight of his night—not the win, not the stat line. Just you.

"Can I get my answer now?" you ask, arching a brow.

"My bad, my bad," he says, hands up like he’s surrendering. But the glint in his eye? That tells you he’s far from done with this. "Yeah, uh—game felt good. We was movin’ the ball well, lotta good looks, tryna keep the pace up. You know how it go."

Finally. A proper answer. You nod, mentally jotting down his response. "And with the way you guys have been gelling lately, do you feel like—"

"You got a boyfriend?"

You blink.

Your lips part slightly. The question lands out of nowhere, cutting through your train of thought like a buzzer-beater shot you weren’t ready for.

"LaMelo." You say his name carefully, like you’re making sure you heard him right.

He just shrugs, like it’s the most natural follow-up in the world. "What? It’s a valid question."

"In what way is that related to tonight’s game?" you ask, narrowing your eyes.

"Its not," he admits easily, flashing you that same lazy grin. "But it’s related to me tryna figure out if I got a shot."

Oh.

Your breath catches, just for a second. It’s one thing to deal with a little postgame flirting, a little playful banter—that’s part of the job sometimes. But this? This is something else entirely. Because LaMelo isn’t just being charming. He’s being bold.

And worse? He’s waiting. Watching you. Like he actually wants an answer.

You shift slightly, gripping the mic tighter, feeling the heat creep up your neck. "I—I don’t think that’s part of the interview," you manage.

"Okay, cool, cool," he nods, pretending to be serious. "So, off the record then."

"LaMelo."

"You dodgin’ the question."

"You ambushed me with the question."

"And?" He leans in slightly, grin widening. "That mean you got somebody, or you just tryna keep me in suspense?"

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. "You are something else."

He nods, satisfied. "So I been told."

You’re not sure what’s worse—the fact that this conversation has gone completely off the rails, or the fact that you’re kind of enjoying it.

You don’t even have to turn around to know everyone in the background is eating this up. You can hear the chuckles from the PR guys, the muffled laughter from a couple of Melo’s teammates lingering in the tunnel, probably watching this unfold like it’s their new favorite postgame show. Even the camera guy, who’s supposed to be neutral, is shaking a little—probably trying to keep himself from outright wheezing on live TV.

Yeah. This interview is ruined, completely unsalvageable.

And maybe it’s the exhaustion from the long night, maybe it’s the sheer audacity of LaMelo Ball flirting with you like it’s his full-time job, or maybe it’s just the fact that you’ve already lost control—whatever it is, you suddenly decide: screw it.

You adjust your stance, shifting your weight to one leg, tilting your head slightly as you level him with a look that’s somewhere between amused and incredulous. "You know you’re supposed to be giving me the quotes, right?"

LaMelo grins like you just accepted his challenge. "I am givin’ you quotes. Just not about basketball."

"Right, because that’s what the people tuned in for. To hear you interrogate me about my dating life."

He shrugs, eyes glinting. "Hey, people wanna know. I wanna know."

You scoff lightly, shaking your head, but you don’t deny it. Which, of course, only makes him push further.

"So what’s up?" he presses, shifting closer by just an inch, all faux innocence. "You single, or I gotta fight somebody?"

A loud, exaggerated Oooooohhhh echoes from the peanut gallery behind you. You don’t even have to turn to know it’s his teammates instigating. Someone claps their hands. Someone else—probably one of the rookies—straight-up howls with laughter.

You take a deep breath, feeling your own composure slipping fast. "You are absolutely impossible."

"And yet—" He leans in slightly, voice dropping just enough to make it worse. "You still ain’t answered me."

Your fingers tighten around the mic. You’re aware of the cameras, of the people watching, but you’re also aware of the way LaMelo is looking at you—like this isn’t just for show, like he’s actually waiting, actually interested. Like he doesn’t just flirt for fun but because he wants something from you.

Your pulse is a little too fast. Your face is a little too warm. And against your better judgment, against every single sideline-reporter instinct in your body, you hear yourself say—

"Off the record?"

The moment the words leave your mouth, LaMelo’s eyebrows shoot up like you just hit a game-winner at the buzzer. His whole face lights up, that cocky, boyish grin stretching wide, and the reactions from the background get ten times worse.

Somebody straight-up screams. There’s full-on chaos behind you—clapping, laughing, someone saying “Ohhh, she folded!” like this is a streetball match and not a professional interview.

Meanwhile, LaMelo? He looks way too pleased with himself. He nods, crossing his arms like he just won the whole damn NBA Finals.

"Off the record," he echoes, voice smug and sweet at the same time. "Yeah, lemme hear it."

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to fight the grin pulling at your lips. "You just wanna hear me say it, huh?"

"You know I do."

You exhale, shaking your head, pretending to deliberate like you don’t already know exactly what you’re about to say. And then, finally, slow and deliberate, you tilt the mic slightly away from your lips—just for show, just to make it dramatic—before saying,

"I’m single."

Absolute pandemonium.

The background noise explodes. Melo’s teammates lose their minds. One of them, probably Terry, full-on runs across the court like you just announced a trade. Someone else (PJ, you think) starts clapping like this is a live studio audience and they just heard the juiciest plot twist of all time.

And LaMelo? LaMelo has the nerve to bite his lip like this is the best news he’s gotten all week. He drags a hand down his chin, nodding like he’s considering his next move, like this just confirmed something for him.

"Aye, yeah. That’s real good to know," he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else.

You shake your head, barely containing your laugh. "You are insane."

"And yet—" he grins, stepping back slightly, throwing his hands up in exaggerated victory, "I got my answer."

You exhale sharply, running a hand over your face. "Interview over."

The camera guy, finally recovering from his silent wheezing, gives you a thumbs-up before cutting the feed. The second the red light on the camera flickers off, you finally let yourself breathe.

You look up at LaMelo, who’s still grinning at you like he just pulled off the smoothest move of his career.

"You happy now?" you ask, raising a brow.

He tilts his head, considering. "Not yet."

You give him a look. "What more could you possibly want?"

"Your number."

And just like that, he’s got you flustered all over again.