#kinda got lazy here and there. been very busy

[sealovinq]

i need friends /gen (slight rant in tags)

[solxamber]

Ace trappola,romantic,true colors(Justin Timberlake version)

"And that's why I love you" || Ace Trappola

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: True Colors by Anna Kendrick, Justin Timberlake

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 510

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Established relationship, Fluff

Ace always acted like he wasn’t the protective type. He teased you relentlessly, called you ridiculous pet names just to see you groan, and pretended to be indifferent about most things. But you’d learned the truth a long time ago—Ace cared, and he cared a lot.

It was in the way he always matched his pace to yours when you walked together, even if it meant slowing down from his usual long strides. It was in how he always noticed when you were feeling off, nudging you playfully but keeping a close eye on you. It was in the way he hovered without making it obvious, like now.

You’d been minding your business, flipping through a book at the library, when a group of students at a nearby table started whispering just loud enough for you to hear. Something about how you weren’t all that special, how they didn’t get why so many people stuck around you so much.

You weren’t the type to let things like that get to you, but still, their words settled in the back of your mind, a dull ache that you couldn’t quite shake.

Apparently, Ace had heard them too.

Because before you could react, he was there, sliding into the chair beside you with a lazy grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He stretched out his legs, arms crossed over his chest, tilting his head toward the group. “You guys got a problem or somethin’?” His voice was casual, but you could hear the edge underneath.

They went quiet fast, suddenly very focused on their books.

Ace rolled his eyes, scoffing as he turned back to you. “Hah. Thought so.” Then, softer, “You okay?”

You nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.

Later, when you were alone, he brought it up again, hands in his pockets, fidgeting like he wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted to say. “You know they���re wrong, right?” He kicked at the ground. “Like, people just hang around you for no reason. You’re—you’re kinda amazing, actually.”

You blinked at him, taken aback by the sudden sincerity.

His ears went pink, and he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Ugh, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you teased, smiling.

“Like I just said some sappy line straight outta a romance novel.” He scrunched up his nose, then huffed. “Not takin’ it back, though. You should know by now—I don’t stick around people unless I really wanna.”

Your chest felt warm. “And you really wanna?”

He glanced at you, smirk tilting up at the corner. “Obviously.” Then, a little softer, “So don’t let anyone make you doubt it, okay?”

You nodded, and that was enough for him. He grinned, ruffling your hair like the menace he was, before tugging you against his side. “Alright, c’mon, let’s get outta here. I need to remind you why I’m the best boyfriend ever. Ice cream’s on me.”

And as he pulled you along, you thought, Yeah. This is what love feels like.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[finsplurtz]

virginbitch — gojo.satoru

— dom ! male.reader x sub ! Gojo Satoru

— contents : Virgin bitch Gojo , mentions of boy pussy , virginity loss , jerking off , drunk Gojo for a min , mirror sex , gagging choking , overstim , degrading nd praising

warnings : like choking but nun too srs idk

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Gojo satoru is a MAJOR virgin. I KNOW .. CRAZY.

His fossil ass hadn’t lost his virginity yet, he’s been waiting for “the right person” but nobody seems to catch his eye…

Till yn was introduced.

It was kinda funny when they met uhm Gojo was having silly conversation with Yuji about girlfriends n shi and like…

“So you don’t have a girlfriend? Are you a virgin?”

“Nonono! I’m not a virgin Yuji cmon I’m literally a lady magnet. I used to fuck girls left and right in highschool! I just don’t have a girlfriend right now because nobody really seems to grab my att…-“ He fell quiet when the finest guy to ever fucking exist walked in.

Yujis confused and looks at yn and he’s like “OH YN, you’re here!” He’s so happy to see them. Yn smiled and pulls Yuji into a hug spinning him around.

“Lord, it’s been so long! You still look adorable” He ruffled Yuji’s hair who giggled.

“Oh- by the way, this is my teacher, yn meet Gojo, Gojo meet yn. Old friend” Yuji stepped aside and yn held his hand out and shook Gojo’s.

“Nice to meet you, Gojo” the way his name rolled off his tongue made him bite the inside of his cheek.

“Nice to meet you too..yn..” Gojo smiled sickly.

Yuji grabbed yn’s wrists and pulled him around excited to show him everything he’d learnt. Gojo was bewildered. I mean yn was fucking- jaw dropping handsome!

Gojo was too busy to worry about a girlfriend. He never really thought he’d be jerking off to some fucking guy he met that same day…

Gojo was a very flirty guy, he’s always flirting with women who’d obviously get down on their knees for him if he asked and yet still he finds nothing interesting about them.

He can lie about not being a virgin and have people believe him, but as soon as this hunk, yn, asks him about it, he’s a stuttering mess.

“Hm. So you’re realll experienced mister Satoru~?” Yn tilted his head looking at Gojo’s blindfold who obviously flushed red.

“Y..yes..yes I am!” He cursed himself out in his head for sounding too excited.

“Yeah? what about with a guy..” yn smirked watching Gojo’s lip tremble slightly.

“Uh-h..huh…” Gojo’s mouth was slightly open as he nodded making the other chuckle.

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind, Satoru.” Yn gently closed Gojo’s mouth before walking off.

Gojo was a sensitive guy when it came to his dick, he’s never been inside anything at all. He was now rutting into his pillow pretending it was yn.

“Ugh..I’m y-your good b..haa…boy..y-yn….” His body shook like crazy when he came on his pillow like never before. He was panting like a dog feeling lazy about cleaning up.

He sat up and looked at the mess he made before sighing and throwing the whole pillow away.

Now he can’t even look at yn’s face at all. Cause he gets reminded of what he did that night, it’s not like he’s guilty or anything he genuinely just might go red..

Well he got closer to yn, always being around each other, doing the same things everyday. It was a routine they both loved.

Gojo grew to genuinely feel attracted to yn, he loved his personality and looks. He’s not scared of homophobia or anything I mean he’s the strongest guy alive, what’s there to be afraid of?

They went out drinking one night and since Gojo is obviously, a light weight, he got drunk pretty fucking fast. He tried to keep up with yn but ended up getting himself fucked up instead.

Yn was dragging Gojo back to his house and lied him on his bed getting him some water.

“Satoru, drink” He sat the white haired male up and handed him the drink.

“N…no it’s too hic h..hot..” He pushed the drink away and tried to take his shirt off but yn stopped him.

“‘Toru- if you’re hot maybe you should take this fucking..blindfold off” yn slid the cloth off Satoru’s head and his eyes widened at this guys eyes…

“Your eyes…” He whispered pushing some hair out of Gojo’s face who blushed looking into yn’s hues.

“They’re gorgeous..” He smiled making Gojo’s insides spin.

“Take my..c-clothes o hic off…” He whined successfully pulling his shirt off leaving him only in his pants. Yn scoffed and grabbed Gojo’s jaw forcing him to look at him.

“Drink…the water.” Yn held the bottle of water up to Gojo’s lips who pulled away and tapped yn’s lips.

“No, you drink..”

‘Tsk’ yn filled his mouth with water and kissed Gojo with tongue allowing the water to go into the others mouth.

Gojo wrapped his arms around yn’s neck and didn’t let go of the kiss. Exploring the guys mouth.

Gojo moaned into the kiss and bit yn’s lip who quickly pulled away.

“Satoru you’re- drunk. No more kissing..just drink the water.”

Gojo again protests but yn forces him to open his mouth and shoves water down his throat getting it everywhere on his body and face.

“Ugh..I’m all wet y-yn…’nd it’s y-your f..fault hic” yn looked away blushing. He flinched when Gojo lied him flat on the bed and straddled him.

There was a big mirror facing the bed and Gojo could see himself. He shuffled before sighing and just knocking out on top of yn.

Next morning he freaks out, stuck in yn’s embrace.

“you good?” yn checked.

“Feel….like shit.” Gojo grumbled trying to hide how red his face was.

“Since you’re sober…wanna fuck?”

Gojo’s beautiful eyes widened.

—

“AGH- UGH MMM!~” Gojo screamed arching his back while watching himself in the mirror get fucked like a slut.

Yn’s hips pounded into Gojo’s ass, the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room along with the sweet smell of sex.

“Gosh…look at you..taking my cock so well~ your virgin boy pussy isn’t complaining about it at all..~” yn smirked devilishly grabbing Gojo’s hair and forcing him to look at himself in the mirror.

“‘s t-too much!~ co-ck sho’ b..big..” he moaned as yn let go of his hair.

“I should put your fuckin’ mouth to work..” yn shoved his fingers into Gojo’s mouth, having him gag and choke on his fingers.

“Goood boy~ you’re my good little whore aren’t you Satoru..?~” Gojo smiled and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“‘m your g-good..boy..! All yourz..~” He screamed and shook violently as he came so hard all over the sheets.

“Hah- first time and you’re already a fucked out mess!” Yn laughed watching Gojo’s face contort at the overstimulation of his prostate still getting abused.

When they finished, Gojo’s body was completely weak. It hurt and he couldn’t even stand up. Good thing he didn’t really need to, yn doing basically everything for him.

He cleaned the male up nicely, tucked him into bed and cuddled.

Gojo is having trouble walking as of lately.

i have a million fics of this man i need him butt booty naked

[skeletonh0e]

hello! i was wondering if you could do an imagine of the boys with a workaholic reader? your choice of skeletons!

love your work btw :D

Thank you so much, sorry this took a bit, life has been hectic! I decided to do a draw the names outta a hat trick and narrow it down to just four, you got....

Killer, Red, Classic annnnnnd Ace!

You work too much ft, some of the boys.

Classic Sans:

Lazy x Workaholic, interesting dynamic

But honestly, he gets it. He works a lot too (not really). You've seen all the jobs he has right?

Here's the thing about that though, the more you work, the more breaks you get.

In others words....

Rest.

There is some tough love here, he'll always start off to gently tell you "hey relax" and when that doesn't work a bit more firmer of "relax or i will make you"

How will he do that?

Flopping onto you like a cat, putting all of his weight onto you (possibly even using gravity magic) and making it impossible to do anything.

He's grinning like a dumbass the entire time too, sorry, he loves you too much to let you stress yourself out silly.

Like he can fully respect that you are a naturally hard working person, after all he's gotten deep into some passion projects back in the day. A part of him honestly admires it, but he's never going to let it go too far.

And he has his methods of getting you to relax, aside from just laying onto of you, he'll hide your keys so you HAVE to call in from work, conveniently whatever you were working on is already finished, etc, etc.

It almost becomes a game, especially if you ever try to find workarounds to all the things mentioned above.

It's all silly but he loves you, don't stress yourself out please.

Underfell Sans:

Kinda does what Classic does but like....far far less tactful about it.

Will just grab you while you're working, drag you off somewhere like, "we're doing something fun, get yer' shit"

And suddenly just like that you're on break

Red is like very blunt, crude and yeah kinda mean, that tough love with Classic is doubled here.

"if you stay up any later you will get bags under your eyes and i don't want my s/o lookin' like shit" type beat

He means well, but yeah

He's a certified lazy fuck as you'd expect with any Sans, while there might be some form of admiration he doesn't get why anyone would willingly overwork themselves. Especially if it was a very demanding job

Also isn't he more fun? Don't you wanna spend more time with him? Huh? (he's not saying that because he wants to spend more time with tho-)

Will snatch your laptop, book, phone, etc to get you to stop.

Especially if work tries to call you in on a day off, full blown grabs the phone, tells your boss you're busy, then hangs up

Looks at you like "what?" afterwards, he did nothing wrong, you are busy.

Will also fucking lay on you to distract you

Unlike Classic he's a lot heavier tho so F in the chat there

Killer Sans:

You'll be buried in work then suddenly you have a knife placed right against your neck, not with enough pressure to hurt you but with enough to make you realize that it's definitely there.

How did he get into your house? How long has he been there? Who knows but he's come to give you a very important demand

"Rest. Now."

Will he actually hurt you? Unclear. I wouldn't push it though.

Like, he can respect the hustle but he does NOT like the idea of work taking advantage of you

Especially when he has his own shitty boss he has to deal with (we all know who)

So very aggressive forms of love here

Totally 100% threatens your boss into giving you more days off and insisting he make sure you're actually taking mandated breaks. Might even find a way to get you a raise or two

He got you boo!

Will also just drag you away from whatever you're working on to do something else, except it's basically a mini jump scare especially since he just appears outta nowhere.

However he can't really judge too much since he is also working a lot not willingly mind you, but still.

Will chill a bit if you assure him you're not being forced, that you do like working, etc. But not by that much.

Underlust Sans:

Workaholic? Him too bitch, the fuck.

He's a lot more tactful and far more reasonable than the other three bozos above as a result

See his policy is he does all his work on the clock only and instantly stops the moment he's off, but of course that's not a valid method in every work field

He's all about helping you pace yourself, like, he's not constantly nagging you but gives check ins, helps you set limits like no working long hours without at least one break, sets reminders

Probably tips he's learned over the years while being employed under Mettaton

....not as intense as Killer but if he suspects you're being taken advantage of, he'll help you go full Karen on your boss

As well as lecture you to not let others do that to you, you're better than this sweetie

Also he knows what it's like to have a job you like, excel at, and want to keep doing but constantly get bagged down by the expectations, demands and effort it takes.

Always here if you need to vent

He's very understanding, he does get it, alright.

All about finding compromises, but also he is not above bribing you, be it with cuddles, foods, things you like and well...he's definitely attempted to seduce you away from work at least once

If that didn't work he pouted about it for hours

This also ironically enough helps him phase himself at his work even better, largely because he refuses to be a hypocrite in any form

[psyzcraze]

His birthday present.

Characters: Alexis Ness x ChubbyFEM!Raeder

Genre: Smut/fluff???

sypnosis: You had just finished celebrating your boyfriend's birthday, Alexis, and you actually prepared your very own gift for him!

c/w: All characters are aged up and that of legal age!, smut, sex obv, birthday sex, lingerie mentioned, p in v, raw/no protection, moany!ness???, rough sex, cumming inside, missionary, tit sucking, small tit play, sucking, biting, lovebites, hair pulling, marking

w/c: 916 words 5,001 characters

author's note: IN HONOR OF MY BOY'S BIRTHDAY 🤞🏻 I SHALL GIVE THIS ONE TO YOU, Proofread for the first time lmao, also, thanks to pookie @nensi for proofreading this one, End part was kinda lazy since I'm Lowkey sleepy alr, divider here, rest of my dividers are in my rules and Masterlist. :3

You had just finished celebrating your boyfriend's birthday, Alexis. With all the guests leaving and your oh so sweet boyfriend escorting them out and saying his thanks to them, You sneaked back in the bedroom to prepare your very own gift for him.

After a few minutes, Alexis let out a deep sigh as the final guest finally got out. He definitely had fun today but it was still exhausting.

He wasn't used to being the center of attention since Kaiser or Isagi will always have the spotlight on them, but because of you, because of your efforts in organizing everything for him, he was actually the spotlight of today. He just knew he needed to thank you for your efforts in the best way he knew.

He happily walked to your shared bedroom right after he locked the door.

As he opened the bedroom door, his eyes widened as he saw you on the bed. In that lacey and sheer magenta lingerie set he had bought for you in valentine's last year. A red bow on your hair. Your curves, exposed for his eyes alone.

"Good evening, love.. I hope you like your present." You spoke so sweetly, honestly you weren't sure about this. You just wanted him to be happy.

Alexis immediately closed the door behind him as he went to you, his steps shaky as he reached the edge of the bed.

"(Y/n), Liebe, .... You're really doing this f'me..?" He asked, as if in shock. "Well yea, you've been busy this past week and I just wanted to give you everything I could for your birthday today... So, I offer myself to you." You spoke, pausing for a second before continuing, "Do everything you want, Mein lieber Zauberer.." You spoke with a sultry tone, a sly smile gracing your lips as you watched him get out of his suit.

A few seconds later, He was left with nothing but his boxers in front of you. "Are you su-", "I am, 'lexis." You shush his worries up with a kiss. "I'm yours. Tonight and forever." And that just did it for him. He immediately pinned you down on the bed, making sure your head lands on the plush pillows.

His kisses right now were so different from his usual gentle and soft kisses. He's rough but making sure you're still comfortable.

He immediately placed himself between your thick thighs, his hand reaching under one of your thighs to hold it up slightly as he pressed his erection onto your wet core.

He whimpered as he pulled away from the rough yet passionate kiss. His lips immediately collided with your neck, suckling, biting, licking and kissing it while his other hand slides down your body, carving out every curve into his memory.

His free hand gently squeezes your breasts before gently sliding down to squeeze your plush tummy next. You moan in whimper under him. You were getting so so wet as he peppered your neck, shoulders and collarbone with lovebites and kisses, his hard member was pressed against your wet core so deliciously, paired with the grinding of his hips onto yours.

Alexis then pulled away, taking off your panties alongside him. His fingers immediately reached your wet core, rubbing your dripping cunt in a teasing manner as he leaned down and licked your slit before he started suckling in your clit. Holding both of your legs on his shoulders, letting your fat fucking thighs to suffocate him as his tongue fucks your pussy.

"Lexis! Hngh-! Keep going..!" You moaned as you trembled under him, grabbing his hair and shoving him more onto your fat cunt. Your thighs, trapping his head between them.

His tongue went faster. "Cum f'me.." He spoke as he continues to fuck you with his tongue. You shook and moaned out his name out loud as he lapped at your juices before pulling away with a contented sigh.

He then kissed your forehead before taking his boxers off, also freeing you from your bra.

Alexis fondles with one of your boobs as he suckles on the other, causing you to whimper but he quickly pulls away as he lined up his hard cock onto your fat cunt.

"I'll put it in now, Kay?" He warned, He sees your small nod before gently thrusting, You moaned in response at the intrusion. He wasn't that big, sure, but he knows how to make you feel so good.

Alexis let's you adjust for a moment, He immediately started pounding your cunt as you told him that he can finally move.

He sets a fast, and unforgiving pace. His tip hitting that spongy and sensitive spot that just makes you fucking moan like a bitch in heat.

He whimpered as he pulled you into a passionate kiss. His hand, gently grabbing a handful of your hair to pull it back as he peppered your neck with lovebites, marking you as his alone.

"Lexis, Baby, I-I'm cumming..!" You moaned out as he pounded your fat cunt, your thighs wrapped around him to pull him closer to you.

"Cum w'me then, hübsches Mädchen.." And as if on command, You came with a long moan of his name. He wasn't far behind, He fucked you relentlessly and only stopped as he planted his seed in your cunt, painting your walls white, he moaned and whimpered alongside you.

"Thank you, Liebe.. This is the best gift ever.. I love you so much."

"..Love you too, so much."

©psyzcraze™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[buuberry00]

ʜᴇʟʟᴏ(•̀’◡’•̀)ﾉ I saw that your request is open

can I request off the record/actor au alien stage casts (+ hyunwoo if possible) reacting to their s/O (gn) surprise visiting them after they finish a shoot or are on break? I don't know your character limit or if you have one since this is my first time requesting from you, if 7 is too much then just the guys are fine, thank you and take care❤

Hi hi!! I'd love to take your request!! (my first alien stage req omg literally so excited!!) ────୨ৎ────

alien stage cast (+ hyunwoo) + gn! record/actor au! reader kinda ooc? no aliens involved since you asked for an au :)

tw: mentions of meds ────୨ৎ──── ⋆˚࿔ Till 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

"cut! let's take five."

Till wiped his brow, adjusting his clothes. he'd been on set all day, feet tired and his body stiff with exhaustion; filming a music video wasn't as fun as it seemed. he already had everything memorized, but the director was way too- nitpicky. Till found someplace to sit, rubbing his tired eyes. "sweetheart," your voice called out, almost like an angel descending from heaven to soothe Till's exhausted brain. he sat up immediately, the thought of exhaustion leaving his body immediately.

you, Till's partner, were the best part of his day. no matter how many times he'd sit in this very spot and record the same thing day- in and day- out, you'd be the very thing on his mind. "y/n," Till beamed, rising to his feet to engulf you in a hug. "I should've called you, told you I was in a shooting. 'm sorry." "no, that's okay," you pulled back to smile at him. "I get it, you're busy. I was, too. Just finished filming another scene of [show name]." Till nodded, hands resting on your waist, giving it a gentle, comforting squeeze. you were always just as busy as he was, yet never seemed stressed. or at least showed it. Till leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, then pulled back with a grin. "Lemme finish this scene then we can head out. pick up dinner and relax at home, 'kay?" "sure thing." you smiled. Till smiled; he couldn't wait to get home. your arms was where he felt safest, anyways.

⋆˚࿔ Luka 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Luka stood, handsome features highlighted under the dim lights of the recording studio. He held his violin, beautifully playing the notes on the sheet. his foot tapped along, a silent metronome, to help keep him in time. "guess we're done for today." his boss spoke up, arms crossed. a lazy, unbothered shrug left him. Luka nodded, setting his violin aside in its case before stepping out. He turned to get his drink and take a sip, but nearly choked when he felt arms wrap around his waist and squeeze. Luka peeked over his shoulder, but his expression lit up with pure joy at the sight of you. "y/n," he smiled, setting his drink down. wrapping his arms around your neck, your hands settled on his waist. "I was hoping I'd get to see your pretty face soon. I was missing you." "thought I'd stop by, see how you were doing." "ah, how thoughtful," he gently bumped his forehead into yours. "I'm taking care of myself, don't worry. I'm just glad you're here." "anytime," you leaned in to peck his lips. "I wanted to check in on you, though. make sure you were taking care of yourself. taking your meds, and all." Luka grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead. he felt his chest grow warm with content. he did have a bad habit of forgetting to take his pills. "I've been taking care of myself, love, don't worry. Lemme pack up my stuff then we can head out." later, you cooked a nice meal and binged random shows, then fell asleep cuddled up on the couch.

'your arms are my castle, your heart is my sky'

⋆˚࿔ Ivan 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Ivan quietly sat alone in the breakroom, rehearsing his lines quietly. he was about to do a shooting for some photoshoot commercial. he had a habit of forgetting his lines when he got nervous. " .. 'This cologne is guaranteed to help boost self confidence'," Ivan murmured to himself, thick brows scrunched. ".. 'It h-helps me, too'..?" Ivan scoffed and sat back in his chair. he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking a breath to ease his stressed mind. yet, when he opened his eyes, he came face- to - upside- down - face with you, his partner. Ivan blinked in surprise, sitting up and looking at you. "y/n," he blinked again. he rose to his feet and pulled you into a hug. .. he always acted like he hadn't seen you in years, yet saw you this morning at breakfast. Ivan pulled back and cupped your face, thumb stroking over your lower lip. "did something happen? you never just ... show up to visit me. is everything okay?" you laughed, hands coming up to encircle his wrists. you squeezed them gently in a reassuring manner. "everything's fine. just wanted to come visit my boyfriend. you're 'bouta film, right?" Ivan nodded, brows starting to furrow. you could easily tell he was anxious. poor baby. you reached up and smoothed out the furrow with your thumb. "you'll do great, honey," you smiled. "just take your time. no rush. take a deep breath and go for it. I believe in you." a soft smile pulled on Ivan's lips. he leaned in and kissed your forehead.

he was oh- so grateful for you.

⋆˚࿔ hyunwoo 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ (aged up, ofc)

hyunwoo's brows nervously furrowed. he paced, rereading his lines for what seemed to be the hundredth time. sure, he had only a few lines to memorize, but he was still super nervous. "hyunwoo," you came up behind him, hands finding their way above his. "you're pacing again, love." he sighed, leaning back into you. ".. 'm stressing out," he admitted. "I have to memorize these lines by this friday." you pressed a reassuring kiss to his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him securely from behind. ".. don't worry, baby." you murmured, rubbing his belly. "just take it easy. one line at a time." Hyunwoo nodded quietly, muttering to himself his lines over and over again. He placed a hand over yours on his belly, a silent assurance that he was playing attention to you, as well. ────୨ৎ──── yay yay!! i hope you enjoyed it !!! feel free to req anything else if you'd like to! I'm so sorry I didn't include Mizi, Sua or Hyuna .. idk how much word count I have on tumblr.

either way ,, i hope you liked it!! have a wonderful day/night!!

-venus

[jaitunapie]

To Break Her Gently(Just Like Me)

//Hanni Pham x Reader//Very mini series//College AU//

Listening to: Pare Ko by Eraserheads

⋆.˚ Masakit mang isipin, kailangang tanggapin. Kung kailan ka naging seryoso — Saka ka niya gagaguhin ⋆.˚

⟡ WARNINGS: FEM READER, cliffhanger???, WEEED (reader sells it lol), Angst, too long to proofread ngl i got lazy and fell asleep, Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong™, psych!student!reader, manipulation, Wony’s kinda evil here (I love her pls don’t hate me) inspired by 10 things i hate abt u (watch it if u havent yet)

⟡ SYNOPSIS: Hanni Pham is busy. Like really busy. She has five deadlines, three group projects (which she’s carrying, obviously), and a scholarship to keep. She does not have time for distractions. Especially not the annoyingly attractive psych major who keeps showing up whereves she goes and calling her “pretty girl”.

So why does it bother her that you suddenly stopped?

⟡ GENRE: College AU · Fake Dating · Second Chance Romance

⟡ WC: 9.4K

Parts: [1]|[2]

a/n: I like psych majors idk, oh ymhofgddd i miss them sm im ognna cry huu

What does it take to make Saint Hanni Pham crack?

Hanni Pham.

How do you even describe her?

Academic weapon. Future summa cum laude. Probably has a five-year plan and a separate five-year plan in case the first one fails.

She’s got a full-ride scholarship. The professors practically drool over her. Admins adore her. The student orgs have practically declared her a patron saint.

So naturally, someone wanted to ruin her life.

Enter, Jang Wonyoung. Tall, pretty, rich, and absolutely deranged about being second place.

She’s been gunning for Hanni’s spot since freshman year and losing every single time. In grades. In recognition. In awards.

Wonyoung even joined Model UN once because she heard Hanni was in it. Guess who walked away Best Delegate?  

Not Wonyoung.

After the third time losing out on an academic grant to Miss Perfect Pham, Wonyoung did what any normal, rational girl would do.

She bribed someone else who could distract the girl.

But who in their right mind would have the guts to mess with Saint Hanni?

Simple.

You.

A broke psych major with a questionable work ethic and even more questionable income sources

A hundred bucks. To ruin her concentration, break her little routine, distract her just enough to knock her off the top. Just a tiny academic tragedy in exchange for a slightly less broke bank account on your end.

Did you feel a little bad?

Yeah. Maybe.

Did you take the money anyway?

Duh.

You figured: how hard could it be? Just annoy the golden girl until she starts slipping. That’s light work, right?

Right?

-

it wasn’t.

It was hell.

No, really. Absolute, exhausting, mind-numbing hell.

Getting through to Hanni Pham was like trying to chip away at a marble statue with a fucking spoon. It wasn’t just that she was smart; because everyone knew that. The girl could recite case studies and philosophical theories like she was reading them off the back of her hand. It wasn’t just that she was diligent. Because, again, no surprise there. 

No, What made it hell was how nice she was about shutting you down.

Her smile, her polite nod, every “Sorry, I really have to go,” or “Maybe some other time?”—it was like being rejected by sunshine itself. You couldn’t even hate her for it. She was so infuriatingly kind. So endlessly patient. So... untouchable.

You tried everything. You tried compliments. She’d thank you, genuinely, and walk away before you could tack on a flirt. You tried being bold. She’d laugh. (that pretty little laugh that did not help) You tried casual conversation. She’d entertain you for maybe a minute and then someone would ask her to help with their notes, or she’d remember a deadline, and she was gone.

And with every failed attempt, you were getting tired. Bone-deep tired. Honestly, you weren't even trying to flirt anymore. You were trying to break into a fortress made of fucking netherite. 

And for what?

The money. That stupid hundred bucks.

Every day, you told yourself: one more try. One more fail. Then I’m done.

And yet—here you were. Again.

Although... lately, you’d started to notice something. There was this faint tightness in her jaw. Her hands tapped her pen too fast. The smiles didn’t come as quick

You didn’t know what was up. Not yet. But maybe that’s why she snapped today.

-

“Hey pretty girl.”

“Are you seriously following me again, L/N?”

You raised a brow, leaning against the edge of the table. “Got your panties in a twist already?”

She looked up, finally, just to glare. “Don’t for one minute think you had any effect whatsoever on my panties.”

“Then what did I have an effect on?”

Hanni shut her laptop with a snap. “Other than my gag reflex? Absolutely nothing, L/N.”

She packed her things in quickly, swung her tote over her shoulder, and then walked off without a second glance.

-

“And then she just left!” you groan, collapsing onto Wonyoung’s bed and hugging an otter plushie.“I’m giving up.”

“Oh my god,” Wonyoung gasps, clutching her heart  “You? Giving up on a girl? What did you do to the Y/N L/N I used to know?”

“You know what-” You squint at her. “Why don’t you do it.”

Wonyoung rolls her eyes “I would—except I’m not her type.”

You squint. “And how the hell do you know her type?”

“She said she likes mysterious people,” Wonyoung shrugs. “You’re mysterious enough.”

“I sell weed behind the chem building.”

“Exactly,” she says, then pulls a book out of her tote and chucks it at you.

You catch it. The cover’s light pink with a doodled heart on the front. Gross.

You wrinkle your nose. “Is this... romance? Wony, I’m not reading your Wattpad bullshit—”

“It’s Hanni’s diary, dumbass.”

You stare at her. “That’s... so illegal.”

“And so is your side hustle.”

You sigh, flipping it open. “Ten bucks or I’m shutting this whole thing down.”

She doesn’t blink. “You’re extorting me with stolen property?”

“Capitalism, Wony.”

“Fine. Fuck you.”

You grin. “That’s extra.”

-

"Y/N L/N, that’s the fifth time this week. Honestly, just say it if you wanna fail."

You wince and give a half-assed shrug. “Sorry, Miss—I missed the bus.”

A lie. But saying “I had to convince my landlord not to throw my stuff on the sidewalk this morning” didn’t exactly roll off the tongue.

She clicks her tongue and gestures toward your seat. “Sit down.”

You exhale and shuffle to your seat. Your claimed seat. As in: you claimed it by threatening the actual seat owner a week ago.

You look over. “You got a pen?”

She doesn’t look up. Just hands one over like muscle memory. You recognize the little cat paw on the cap—it’s the third time you’ve borrowed this exact one.

You uncap it and start doodling on your notebook. You glance at her sideways. “Ever think about how generous you are to known degenerates?” you say, tapping the pen.

“Ever think about shutting up?” she replies, still not looking at you.

Okay. try again.

A beat passes. Then—

“How do you keep showing up thirty minutes late and still walk out with just a warning?”

You smirk. “Ouu… getting curious about me now, Pham?”

That earns you a look “don’t flatter yourself.”

“Relax” You lean back in your chair, arms crossed. “I dunno, maybe she just finds me charming.”

“More like concerning,” she mutters. “You’re late. You never bring anything. Your attendance is shit. But she doesn’t even write you up.”

“She’s human,” you shrug. “She has favorites.”

“And you’re one of them?” She snickers, but doesn’t argue. Instead, she turns back to her notes.

…

You tap the desk with the pen. “Tell you what. I’ll spill everything after class.”

Her head tilts slightly. Skeptical. “And why would I waste time on that?”

“…There’ll be bread?”

She hesitates. Not long, Like a little skip in her brain before she catches herself.

“I’m busy.”

Plan B(read) fail.

—

They say food is the way to the heart.

Hanni’s not sure who “they” are, but—okay, maybe it’s a little true. She’s never said no to free food. But free food from a stranger? 

Yeah, no. Stranger danger. She’s seen documentaries.

And yet… it’s not like you’re a total stranger. You’re just always…there. The cafeteria. The library. The hallway outside her 10 a.m. gen lecture even though you’re definitely not enrolled. She's tried to ignore it.

It’s probably a coincidence. Campus isn’t that big.

Or maybe—

No. No, no. Hanni doesn’t do fate. Or signs. Or whatever hopeless romantics call this kind of thing.

Gross.

 She sighs, lightly strumming the guitar resting on her knee.

What do you even want from her?

Her gaze wanders, unthinking. The window beside the rack of acoustic guitars, and beyond it is the street, hot in the summer heat. A couple walks by. Someone’s skateboarding across the path. Another student ducks under the awning to avoid the sun.

She isn’t really looking for you.

But then—there you are.

Across the courtyard, in the building across from the shop, framed perfectly by the bookstore’s wide glass. You’re leaned slightly against the counter, holding a paper bag. Laughing. She sees your profile tilt, your mouth moving with something mid-sentence, your hand pushing back a strand of hair.

It’s weird.

How quickly her stomach flips.

You’re annoying.

She blinks. And right then, like you felt it, you turn.

Your eyes meet hers and maybe she looks away too quickly.

And right then—

Plink.

She looks down. The high E string has snapped. It curls like a loose thread off the fretboard. For a second, she just stares. 

She sighs. Carefully sets the guitar down, but moves a little too fast. Her finger catches the broken string. It stings.

“Ow…”

Tiny dot of red.

Awesome.

She brings the guitar to the front, holding it by the neck. Her voice comes out softer than she wants it to.

“Hey, Tom…”

The old man behind the register looks up from his stool, smiling behind his glasses. “Ah, Hanni, kid! What’s up?”

“I think I snapped a string,” she says. “Sorry—I wasn’t really… I wasn’t being rough, it just—”

He waves it off, already getting up. “It happens. I’ve broken more strings than I’ve played, I swear.”

“No, no—let me pay for it. I’ve got it.” She starts rummaging through her tote bag.

Receipts. Crumpled tissue. A pack of gum.

Wallet.

She flips it open.

Empty. Just an old exam schedule and a faded sticky note reminding her to buy printer ink.

Her throat tightens. She knew she forgot something. She was supposed to withdraw cash this morning, but then they had that last-minute group meeting, and then Minji sent the wrong file, and the chem lab printer wouldn’t scan—

“You don’t have to, kid,” Tom says kindly.

“No, I got it—”

Another voice. Closer.

“I got it.”

Hanni turns slowly and you’re there. Right there. Just behind her, like you’d been standing there the whole time as you slip a bill onto the counter.

The bell above the door must’ve rung earlier. That’s what she’d heard.

“Y/N!” Tom grins. “Been a while!”

Hanni stares, not saying anything. She’s too busy reading your face, trying to figure out if this was planned, or just another coincidence in the ever-growing list of them. The list she’s starting to hate.

Tom gestures between the two of you. “You two know each other?”

You smile, casual. “We’re schoolmates.”

“Unfortunately,” Hanni mutters, quieter than she means to.

Your brows lift. “Hmm?”

She clears her throat. “I said thank you.”

You smile wider. Too wide. “No problem.”

She grabs the receipt Tom hands her and already starts reaching for her bag again. “I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“How about now?”

She blinks. “I haven’t withdrawn—”

“No, I mean...” you tuck your wallet away. “Dinner.”

Her mouth opens. Nothing comes out.

You laugh, “I’ll pay. Think of it as you accepting your payment.”

She glances at Tom like he might save her.

He raises both hands and shrugs like, Hey, don’t look at me. But there’s a little smile playing at his lips that says he’s seen this kind of scene before. 

Hanni’s fingers brush the edge of the counter. Her heartbeat is annoyingly loud in her ears.

Why is she so nervous?

She licks her lips. Clears her throat.

“Where?”

—

“Aren’t you full already…?” you asked, watching as a crumble of crust clung to the corner of her lip, then tumbled down onto her sweater sleeve.

 “Answer the question.”

You sighed and leaned back in your seat, the plastic of the café chair creaking beneath you. The air smelled like burnt sugar and old books “Miss Park used to be my tutor.”

“That’s it?” she asked, words slightly muffled, the pastry was doing half the talking.

“That’s all,” you said with a shrug, like it didn’t matter. But she narrowed her eyes at you, chewing slower now. Not suspicious—just… curious. Still, she gave a small nod and let it drop.

She licked a crumb off her thumb. “And Tom?”

You clicked your tongue. “Nuh-uh. Only one relationship question per pastry.”

Her brow lifted. “Says who?”

“Says me. My turn.” You pointed a lazy finger at her. “Why are you always so… annoyingly studious?”

She stared at you. “I’m the one asking questions here.”

“Fine, dictator,” you muttered, reaching for your drink. It had gone cold. Tasted like watered-down chocolate and regret.

She grabbed a napkin and dabbed the corner of her mouth with mechanical precision, then flicked her gaze back at you. “Why do you sell... that stuff?”

You tilted your head. The hum of the ceiling fan filled the space between you.

“I need the money,” you said eventually, voice low.

The words just sat there. Not heavy. Just… true.

You picked at the edge of your cup. “Also… it helps people,” you added, quieter. “Helps them chill out. Get through the day. Makes things feel a little less… sharp.”

She didn’t reply right away. Just raised an eyebrow, skeptical but not judgmental. “By getting them addicted?”

“They don’t always get addicted,” you shot back, a little fast. A little defensive. Then, with a shrug: “It’s just… calming.”

She tilted her head at that. Thoughtful.

“Is it good?” you asked her eventually.

She nodded, finishing the last bite of her pastry. A beat passed. Then, wordlessly, she tore a piece from her third carp bread and held it out to you.

You smiled, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

Her hand hovered for a beat longer than necessary, then she popped the piece into her own mouth. “Your loss,” she said, lips tugging into the faintest smile.

—

“Good morning, Miss Pham,” you say as you drop into the seat across from her—voice laced with that fake cheer you save for people you enjoy annoying. Or people you... whatever. Doesn't matter.

Hanni doesn’t even bother looking up. Just sighs. “It’s too early for you to be this loud.”

You smirked. No immediate roast today. Progress.

“It’s the perfect time,” you replied, sliding your bag under the table. “What are you even studying for? Exams aren’t until next week.”

She flips a page, still not looking at you. “Didn’t think you’d know that.”

“Wow,” you say, pressing a hand to your chest. “I dabble in calendar literacy, thank you very much.”

“This isn’t for the exams,” she added, eyes still scanning text. “Regional competition.”

“Obviously.”

She finally looks up, eyes sharp and amused in that way that makes your stomach shift a little too much. She expected that reaction out of you.

“What about you?” she asks. “Studying?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do I look like someone who studies?”

She doesn’t answer, but the corner of her mouth twitches.

“I mean,” you say, stretching your arms behind your head, like the ceiling’s ever done anything interesting, “if I actually tried, I’d probably beat you.”

That gets her. She looks up properly now.

“I’d like to see you try.”

And you should’ve just laughed. Should’ve brushed it off like you always do.

“Challenge accepted,” you say, trying to recover. “You want competition that bad?”

“No.” Her voice softens, just barely. “Seriously.”

A pause.

“I think you could do it.”

Your smirk falters. Just a second.

“What,” you say, trying to lace your voice with a joke that doesn’t quite land, “you recruiting your next academic rival or something?”

“Maybe,” she says, and this time, she closes the book gently. Doesn’t shove it aside. Just lets her fingers rest on it as she’s still holding the thought. “Study with me.”

Your instinct is to say no. Because that’s the plan. 

Keep distance.

But she’s looking at you like she means it. 

Why?

You exhaled silently.

“…Fine,” you say. “One session.”

You don’t say that your stomach’s doing that fluttery thing again.

Or that for a second, you almost forgot you were supposed to be playing her.

You don’t remember when you last studied seriously.

Not studied like skimming a page with your eyes half open.

Not studied like rewriting a bullet point just to feel like you tried.

Was it for the entrance exam? No. You barely even read the first page. You just sat there chewing on the pen cap until the taste of metal and ink sat bitter at the back of your tongue.

Was it in middle school? Or sixteen—when you moved in with your aunt and uncle, into a house where the dinner table was always quiet but the silverware loud, and the bathroom always smelled like mildew, lavender, and cold ceramic that never warmed up under your feet?

Or maybe it was when they got divorced two years later—like some part of you had been waiting for the final crack in the drywall to split the whole thing open.

You don’t remember. And you think you’ve stopped wanting to.

But what you do remember is— you’ve always hated studying. Always. Hated the way it wanted silence from you, the way it asked for stillness you never really had. Hated sitting there under the ugly stale yellow light of your night lamp, scratching notes into your notebook. So you used headphones. Not for music at first—just to mute the noises. Mute the verbal war going on downstairs, the sound of forks clinking against plates followed by the usual “You always…” “You never…” “Can’t you just…”

Though, at some point, elementary or  middle school maybe, you kind of liked it. The praise. The novelty of being good at something. Your mother used to beam when she saw your report cards. You remember the folder stuffed fat with awards, papers curling at the edges, certificates with your name spelled in big, proud letters. She used to call you her little genius. You don’t remember when she stopped.

But she did.

Eventually, the compliments turned into expectations, and the expectations turned into pressure, and the pressure became your whole identity. It was never enough. You were never enough. Not unless you were holding something at least; a medal, a ribbon, something that could be shown off at a dinner party while she laughed and said, “She gets it from me.” You swore once, when you were nine, that you’d be a doctor. That you’d make her proud. She cried when you said it and hugged you too hard. You felt her ribs in that hug. You felt her joy, and you thought, maybe this is what love is.

But it wasn’t.

It was what she wanted. And that’s different.

You started noticing that everything you wanted had to come second. Or third. Or never. That being “gifted” wasn’t a gift at all. It was a small glass room. You were the display, the fragile object in the center that everyone clapped for, but no one let out in fear that it might get damaged. Outside, kids your age played in the rain. You weren’t allowed to join. You watched them from the window with a pencil in your hand, your back aching from sitting so straight.

You remember, once, sneaking out when your parents were both working. You went to the playground and you thought, maybe someone will let me be a kid.

They didn’t.

You remember standing by the swing with the missing broken seat. You remember the stares. Not mean, just confused, they knew you didn’t belong. They sat together at the seesaws like atoms and you were the outsider molecule.

There was a girl, though. Pink party hat, carp bread in her hand. You remember her wide lopsided smile, her bangs stuck to her forehead from running too much. She handed you the bread in its crinkled plastic wrap and said, “My mom gives me food when I’m sad. It helps.”

You remember thinking: What does that even mean? You remember looking up at her and, for the first time, wondering what someone else was thinking.

“Where’s your mom?” the taller girl behind her asked. She got smacked for it. “Don’t ask her that!” Pink Hat said, turning to you with a sincere apology on her face. And then the rain came like it had been holding its breath all day and finally exhaled.

They ran. Moms rushing toward them with umbrellas and jackets. Kids laughing, slipping, squealing. You stood still. The rain poured onto your hair like it was trying to wash something off of you. You hid the bread under your shirt and sniffled but didn’t cry.

An orange cat sat beneath the tunnel slide, tilting its head at you like it wanted to understand. You walked toward it, shoes squelching in the wet sand. Sat inside the tunnel where the rain couldn’t touch you but the cold still did. You broke off a piece of the bread and handed it to the cat. It bit you, took the bread and ran with it.

You stayed. Arms wrapped around your knees, chin tucked down. You stayed until the sky dimmed and the swing outside creaked annoyingly.

When you got home, soaked, your mother didn’t ask why. She just shouted — Why did you leave your books? She didn’t see your wet hair. She didn’t see your hand bleeding. She didn’t ask about the bite.

That was the day you started hating studying. Not just the act, but the whole idea of it. What it meant and what it had taken from you. You stopped pretending. Stopped thinking that studying was anything other than what it really was–Proof. Of being enough and being useful.

Though the orange cat kept coming back after that. You’d see it outside your window, just sitting there like it was waiting for you to come outside to feed it. You fed it crackers, rice, leftover fish sometimes. It never bit you again. It started waiting at the gate when school ended. You’d pretend it was yours. You knew it wasn’t—the pink collar gave it away. Yet it still stayed.

Until the day you left. You were putting your bags in the car, the driveway wet with last night’s rain, and you saw it. Sitting there. Not running up to you nor meowing. Just watching. You opened the door but It still didn’t move. And then it turned. And walked away.

You didn’t cry. You should’ve.

Then came the rest. The move. The divorce. College. The feeling that everything breaks eventually.

—

But here you are, weeks later, in the library.

One session turned into three.

Then five.

At first, it was just for the money. You told yourself that. You sat across from Hanni Pham and made sarcastic commentary about the way her handwriting looked like a font. She mostly ignored you—except for the occasional sigh or dry remark that made your stomach twist in ways you didn't have the vocabulary to explain.

But then she started saving you a seat.

Not out loud, of course. She never said This is for you. But the chair opposite hers was always pulled out and the extra pen was always there.

It freaked you out, honestly.

Like—did she know?

Did she see through you?

Because you weren’t exactly subtle. Not really. You’d drop random references to Kant or Freud just to see if she’d look up. You’d poke at her note margins like you were teasing her, but really you just wanted to hear her laugh. Wanted to see that flicker in her eyes before she swallowed it back down again like she always did.

Some days you didn’t even talk. She’d have her notes out, and you’d have your half-assed attempts at pretending you knew what you were doing. She never called you out for it. Never asked what you were actually doing, she just let you sit there. 

And you hated it.

Not her.

Just the fact that you started wanting to try.

Which was worse.

Because you were supposed to distract her. 

But now you’re here, sitting across from her.

And you’re starting to really hate the version of yourself that said yes to all of this in the first place.

And then one quiet afternoon where the dust danced in the golden sunlight through the window that made everything feel softer. 

You didn’t say anything at first. You just looked back.

“What?” you finally asked.

She blinked. Looked away. “Nothing.”

“Liar,” you said, leaning forward. “You were staring.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You so were.”

A minute passes “I was just wondering,” she said, still not meeting your eyes, “how someone like you ended up here.”

“‘Someone like me?’” You laughed, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “What, a burnout?”

“No,” she said, and it was too soft to be anything but honest. “Someone who doesn’t believe they belong.”

And wow.

You hated that.

Hated how it was too accurate. Like she’d cracked your chest open and found the part of you even you pretend isn’t there.

“You think I don’t belong?”

“I think you do,” she said, finally looking at you. “But I don’t think you think that.”

It landed like a punch, even though her voice was gentle. She wasn’t trying to hurt you. 

After a beat, you muttered, “I don’t actually smoke, you know.”

Her head tilted. “What?”

“I just sell it. For the cash.”

“Figured.”

No judgment?

She leaned back in her chair. “So what did you want to do?”

You didn’t answer immediately because the question felt heavier than it should’ve.

“I don’t know,” you said, then corrected, “...Actually, I wanted to be a forensic psych.”

That made her raise an eyebrow.

You shrugged. “I like knowing how people work. Why they do the things they do. Thought maybe if I understood the worst of them, the rest wouldn’t seem so impossible.”

She nodded, slowly. “That tracks.”

You didn’t say the rest. About the notes you kept in your old phone of the symptoms your mom never got diagnosed for. Or how your dad called you “overdramatic” every time you cried and still expected you to set the table. Or how deep down, you just wanted to stop people like them from becoming the reason someone else ends up in therapy.

“What about you?” you asked, voice softer.

“If med school doesn’t work out,” she said, fingers absently brushing her notes, “I’d want to be a vet. Or maybe a musician.”

That surprised you. “Musician?”

“Yeah,” she said with a small smile. “Guitar. Ukulele. Piano. I used to write songs in high school, but... I don’t know. Felt silly.”

“Doesn’t sound silly.”

The silence after that wasn’t awkward.

You started looking forward to the library. And, against all better judgment, maybe to her.

—

The sun was relentless, but the game was somehow still going. Minji’s backyard wasn’t exactly pro court material, but the net was up, and no one had collapsed from heat stroke yet, so. Success?

Minji served again, cleanly and fast.

“How do you know if you like someone?” Hanni asked, like she was commenting on the weather.

Minji raised a brow mid-jump. “Why’re you asking that now?”

“Why not?” Hanni replied, feigning nonchalance.

“UNNIE, ARE YOU IN LOVE?!” Danielle gasped from across the net, hands flying to her face just as the ball bounced pathetically at her feet.

Hanni rolled her eyes and bent down to grab it. “No, Dani. I’m not.”

Danielle grinned. “Your face says otherwise.”

“Mhm, It’s kind of red,” Haerin added helpfully, lips curled into a smirk. She bumped the ball back to Minji, who caught it instead of spiking it.

“Could be the sun,” Hanni muttered.

“Could be something else,” Danielle sing-songed. “Or someone else—Ooooh, is this about—”

“It’s not about Y/N,” Hanni snapped, turning just in time to miss the ball Minji had tossed back lightly. It hit her square in the forehead with a soft thunk.

A beat of silence. 

“…No one mentioned Y/N,” Haerin said, eyebrows raised, trying not to laugh.

Minji was already grinning. “That’s… kind of suspicious, no?”

From the bench in the shade, Hyein didn’t even glance up from her phone. “If you’re asking, you probably already like them,” she said flatly, thumbs tapping. “You just want someone else to say it first.”

The entire yard went quiet.

“Thank you, Hyein,” Hanni called, raising a hand like a distant high-five. “The youngest, ladies and gentlemen.”

Everyone else had gone home.

Hanni was still on Minji’s couch, arms crossed, hair still a little damp with sweat. The TV was on but muted, casting soft light across the living room.

“So…” she said, dragging the word out. “What was that earlier?”

Hanni blinked up at her. “What was what?”

The taller girl scoffed. “Don’t do that. Don’t play dumb.”

Hanni sighed and sank further into the cushions wishing to disappear. “I’m pretty sure I don’t like her.”

Minji raised both eyebrows. “Right. Is that why I saw you two at that café last week?”

Hanni groaned. “Okay, let me explain.”

“I’m listening.”

“I only said yes to that because Miss Park told me she’d bump my grade if I could convince Y/N to study, and because she did me a favor.” Hanni explained, hands moving animatedly. “That’s literally it.”

Minji paused. “Your grades are already good. Why would she—?”

“You’re missing the point.” Hanni leaned in. “Y/N’s late to class, like, every day. No detention. No warnings. Nothing. You don’t see it because you’re not in our class, but I swear, it’s weird. So I thought—hey, maybe if I get close, I’ll figure out what kind of deal she has with Miss Park.”

Minji blinked. “So what, you’re, like… spying?”

“It’s not spying,” Hanni muttered. “It’s… observing.”

Minji burst into a laugh. “Ohhh, and what about the part where you saved her a seat three days in a row? Was that just research too?”

“Shut up,” Hanni said, reaching out to shove her playfully.

Minji dodged just enough to avoid spilling her drink, grinning the whole time.

Then Hanni’s phone buzzed on the coffee table.

She glanced down and her breath caught—just a little.

You: are you free next week?

---

Everyone has a price. You used to think yours was pride.

But pride didn’t pay rent. And rent had started speaking louder lately—well more like shouting, really, in the form of red notices taped to your door and your landlord’s punch-like knock echoing through the thin walls of your apartment. 

Two weeks. That’s what he gave you. Fourteen days to shit out cash you didn’t have.

Gone would be the cracked ceiling you’d grown oddly fond of, the lukewarm showers you’d tolerated, the paper-thin walls that broadcast your neighbor’s stupid metallica addiction, the orange kitten that somehow gets in your home everytime you come home. And yet the thought of leaving didn’t feel like freedom at all. 

You’d sat yourself in the back corner of the campus café, hunched low beneath your hoodie, nursing a tea you hadn’t paid for. Across from you, Wonyoung looked ethereal, her iced Americano sweating and ignored. 

 But she wasn’t here to hang out.

“So,” she said, eyes fixed on you like she was analyzing something under glass. “There’s this party.”

You didn’t look up. Just kept doodling in the margins of your notes. “Cool.”

“It’s next week.”

You nodded. Didn’t ask.

She leaned forward, arms resting on the table now. “You should bring Hanni.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the night before regionals.”

That made you pause.

“And?. You want her to be—what—hungover?” You gave a small laugh, more disbelief than humor.

Wonyoung didn’t answer. She just tilted her head, like she thought this part should be obvious by now.

Your eyebrows lifted.

“I'm not asking you to make her drink. Just…distracted. Off her game. Whatever works.”

“Wow,” you said flatly. “So casual. Want me to spike her drink while I’m at it?”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

…

“...I’m not doing that,” you said, voice quiet but steady. “That’s not part of the deal anymore.”

“You said you’d help.”

“Not like this.”

“It’s one night.”

“She’s been preparing for weeks.”

“So have I,” Wonyoung snapped. For the first time, her voice cracked—just slightly. Then it flattened out again. “Look. You get her to come. Just keep her distracted. Doesn’t even have to be drinking. Just enough to make her tired or off her game.”

“No.”

“Y/N—”

“I said no.” The words tasted final in your mouth. “I’m done with this whole operation.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then Wonyoung leaned back in her chair, studied you like she was recalibrating. “You’re getting soft.”

You clenched your fists. “Or maybe I just remembered that she’s a person.”

She scoffed. “You weren’t saying that when you were ready to ruin her.”

She wasn’t wrong. That was the worst part. There had been a time—not long ago—when this entire scheme felt justifiable, But that was before study sessions turned into excuses to be with her. Before stolen glances started lingering. Before you caught yourself hoping she’d text first. Before it stopped feeling fake.

“I’m out,” you said, steady this time. “Do what you want, but I’m done.”

Wonyoung didn’t move. Just studied you for a long, quiet second, and you knew her long enough to know that she was running calculations in her head. Then her voice dropped.

“If you walk, I tell her.”

You froze. The shift wasn’t subtle. It didn’t need to be.

“I’ll tell Hanni everything,” she continued, “How this started. Who put you up to it. Why you talked to her in the first place.”

“She won’t even look at you after that,” Wonyoung added, almost bored. “You’ll still lose her. Just without the paycheck.”

A knot twisted in your stomach. One part anger, two parts fear.

“She won’t believe you,” you said, but your voice lacked weigh

Wonyoung didn’t argue. She didn’t need to. You both knew Hanni might.

“Fine” Then Wonyoung leaned in, voice soft now. Too soft. “Three hundred.” She let it hang. Knew it would. Knew what it meant to someone like you, someone with overdue bills and plastic bags used as garbage liners and a cracked screen too expensive to replace.

It rang in your head like a siren.

Three. hundred.

It sounded like safety. It sounded like two weeks of silence from your landlord. Like a month of not having to explain things to your aunt.

“I already said no.”

“I know,” she said. “But think about it, okay?”

You didn’t answer. You just picked up your phone and walked out.

Twenty minutes.

That’s how long you’d been sitting on the roof deck ledge, your legs half-asleep, the city humming low beneath you like it didn’t care whether you moved or not. The wind tugged lightly at your sleeves, and the air smells like exhaust.

You still hadn’t replied to any of the four notifications on your screen.

One from your landlord, something about next month’s rent.

Two from a friend asking if you wanted to go out that weekend.

One from your aunt reminding you to eat. Again.

 And then, at the bottom is hanni’s contact.

Your finger hovered and tapped. 

"Are you free in three days?"

You didn’t hit send.

Not yet.

Because how the hell did it end up like this?

You'd sworn you’d never be that kind of person. The kind that played with people. The kind that lied to someone’s face while secretly carrying a hidden motive. The kind that became the reason someone else stared at their ceiling at 3 am, wondering what they did wrong.

You always thought you'd be better than that.

And yet.

Here you were.

Sitting on a rooftop with a message you had no right to send and a heart that was far too involved for what this wasn’t supposed to be.

You hit send then locked your phone.

None of this was real anyway, right?

Even if, god forbid, some part of you wanted it to be.

-

You couldn’t sleep.

The sheets were too warm, tangled around your legs and god they might as well be trying to hold you hostage. You flipped your pillow over for the third time that hour, hoping the cold side would finally knock you into unconsciousness. It didn’t.

Your phone screen stayed dark on the nightstand. But you kept glancing at it anyway. Waiting for something. 

This was stupid.

You weren’t even sure what you were waiting for anymore. An answer? Permission? A reason to back out?

You sighed. Pulled the blanket higher and closed your eyes.

Your phone lit up on the nightstand.

Your phone lit up.

Hanni.

Your breath caught.

3:04 a.m.

You scrambled for it, heart doing something weird in your chest. Thumb swiping before you could think too much.

“Up early, pretty?” you said, teasing—You started calling her that after she let it slip once. “pretty”. Said it under her breath when she thought you weren’t listening. You’d weaponized it ever since, just to see her squirm. She always rolled her eyes and told you to cut it out.

So, obviously, you kept saying it.

But this time—

“…Who is this?”

Not her.

The voice on the other end was wrong

“…Sorry—who?” you asked, suddenly very awake.

“This is Hanni’s father.”

Oh.

“…Right,” you said, voice cracking slightly. “Uh, sorry. Wrong—number?”

He didn’t answer.

You hung up. Fast.

The silence afterward was loud.

You dropped your phone face-down on the blanket and just sat there.

You hadn’t heard from Hanni since the call. She’s probably busy. But now you were waiting. Waiting for the moment you’d get hit with it—literally or verbally, you weren’t sure which.

It came the morning later, in the form of a textbook to the head.

"Ow—what the—?" You looked up from your laptop just in time to see Hanni drop her bag on the chair across from you, sliding into the library seat like she had every right to assault someone.

She raised a brow. “Good reflexes.”

You gawked at her. “You threw a book at my head!”

“Anatomy,” she said, like that explained anything. “Figured you needed to study up on nerve endings. Since you clearly don’t have any.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You.”

“Me?”

She leaned in, “Did you—or did you not—call me pretty over the phone?”

You paused. Slowly closed your laptop. “Okay, technically—yes. But—”

“At three in the morning.”

“It was meant to be a joke!”

“To my dad?” she whisper-yelled, eyebrows hitting maximum height.

You cringed. “I didn’t know it was your dad! I thought it was you, obviously. I wouldn’t flirt with a grown man at 3am —I have standards ew what the hell.”

“Do you also have a death wish?”

You tried to smile. She didn’t.

“Okay.”

She sighed like it physically hurt her. “He told my mom. Y/N.”

“They think you’re my girlfriend now.”

Your heart did a weird stutter. “And… you clarified, right?”

She tilted her head. “I tried. I said we’re just friends—you know what my mom said?”

You shook your head.

“She said, ‘It’s okay to be shy about it, Hanni. We think she sounds sweet.’”

Your lip twitched. “Don’t,” she warned. “I’m not!” you said, trying very hard not to smile. “I’m being respectful.” “Respectfully shut up,” she muttered.

You pressed your mouth into a tight line. The corners still betrayed you. “At least they’re not homophobic?” you offered carefully. “Yes. that's amazing dude,” she said, deadpan. “Also not the freaking point.”

You cleared your throat, trying to recompose yourself. “Okay. So... what now?” “They want to meet you.” “Sorry—what?” “Dinner,” she said, like it was a minor inconvenience. “Tomorrow” “Dinner?” “Yes.”

You looked over at her, eyes squinting. “Why’d they even call me in the first place?” “They got suspicious,” she said, pulling a notebook from her bag, “ About me coming home late after our study sessions, so they checked my phone.” You frowned. “That’s lowkey invasive.” “They’re my parents,” she said with a shrug. “I kinda don’t get a say.”

—

“Too slutty.”

You groaned as you returned to the room to pick another set of clothes, tossing the leather jacket onto your friend’s already chaotic bed. You pulled out a plain white button-up and stared at it in the mirror.

“Too boring,” you muttered. “I’m not trying to look like her professor.”

Your phone buzzed on the dresser. It was a text from Hanni “How’s the outfit hunt going?”

“Terribly. Do your parents even like leather? Because that’s all I’ve got here.”

The reply came instantly

“Wear whatever man, Just… don’t look like a felon.”

You rolled your eyes. Easier said than done.

Ryujin peeked her head through the doorway, arms crossed and barely holding back laughter. “You know, for someone who sells weed for a living, you care way too much about impressing her parents.”

“It’s not her. It’s the deal. I eat at family dinner, and in return, she shows up at the party next week. Whatever, we both get what we want.”

Ryujin rolled her eyes but smirked. “This is different. you're too invested-.”

Ignoring her, you grabbed a sweater from your chair, pulling it over your head. “Better?”

Ryujin gave you a once-over and shrugged. “Passable. You look like someone who could… I don’t know, work a nine-to-five.”

“Ha! That’s what I’m going for,” you said, grabbing your sneakers. “’Stable and responsible.’”

As you’re putting on your shoes, Hanni sends a follow-up text: “Are you sure you can pull this off? They’re going to ask questions.”

You replied: “dw I’m great under pressure. Besides, your parents will love me😁👍”

Hanni: “...That’s what I’m afraid of.💔”

“Anyways, head outside, I'm here, blue car.”

You sent a little thumbs up emoji as you hurried out sending a little thanks to Ryujin for letting you borrow her clothes

You squinted down the curb until you spotted the car and jogged toward it.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you turned to Hanniwith  a smirk. "Well? How do i look”

Hanni barely spared you a glance as she pulled out of your driveway. "You look like someone who got lost on the way to their corporate job and ended up selling weed instead."

"Perfect. Thanks."

She let out a deep sigh, gripping the wheel a little tighter. "Just… don’t overdo it, okay? My mom is wayy too excited to meet you, and my dad is already suspicious."

You raised an eyebrow. "Suspicious of what?"

Hanni shot you a deadpan look. "Of me going home late because of you. Of the fact that I suddenly have a ‘girlfriend’ and never mentioned it. Of literally everything. He’s a cop, by the way."

"A cop?"

"Ex-cop. Still terrifying."

You inhaled sharply, resisting the urge to throw yourself out of the moving car. "And you’re telling me this now??"

"Would it have helped?"

You opened your mouth, then shut it. Yeah, probably not.

—

The second you sat down, he leaned forward. “So. How did you two meet?”

Right…Straight into it, then.

You glanced at Hanni. She looked a little caught off guard too, but recovered quickly, her leg brushing against yours under the table.

“Oh,” you said, buying time, “We had a class together. Chem lab. One of those forced group activity things. We got paired up.”

It wasn’t a full lie. 

Her dad nodded slowly. “And you’re taking…?”

“Psych,” you replied.

He didn’t nod nor smile “So, not medicine.”

You smiled anyway. “Nope. I’m more into the mind than the body.”

A pause.

 “And what made you decide on that?”

You hesitated—not because you didn’t know, but because something about the way he looked at you made it feel like your answer might go on something like a permanent record.

“I guess I like… figuring people out,” you said eventually. “Why they do things. Even when it doesn’t make sense. It makes me slower to judge.”

Something shifted in his expression—almost approval. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

Her mom smiled. “That's very thoughtful. Hanni did say you were insightful.”

Your eyes flicked to Hanni. She pretended to focus on pouring water.

Then came the next bullet.

“And how long have you two been… seeing each other?”

There was the briefest hitch in your breath.

Hanni turned to you slightly, mouthing: Say three months.

You nodded, whispered: Got it.

Then turned back to her parents with a bright, and very confident smile.

“A year.”

Hanni’s leg jerked under the table as she kicked you hard, and her dad’s head snapped to look at her—eyebrows raised in silent surprise.

You barely flinched. “Time flies when you’re in love.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” her mom gasped. “Hanni’s never brought anyone home before.”

“Seriously? I’m the first?”

That was… surprising. She was literally the most dateable person you’d ever met.

Hanni muttered, half into her napkin, “Unfortunately.”

Her dad didn’t let up. “And how exactly did you and Hanni… get together?”

You grinned. Oh, you had this one ready.

“She chased me.”

Hanni choked on her water. “I—excuse me?”

“Obsessed,” you added. “She kept texting me. Kept showing up wherever I was, super romantic stalker behavior, really.”

Hanni’s dad slowly turned his head to stare at her.

“She’s joking,” Hanni nervously laughed.

“Am I?” you said, winking.

Her dad raised an eyebrow. “Is she?”

You grinned.

Hanni looked like she was considering homicide.

Thankfully, her mom stepped in, placing a gentle hand on her husband's arm. “Oh, I just love young love.”

Then, with a sudden brightness, she perked up. “The roast! I think it’s done. Hanni, dear, would you get it from the oven?”

Hanni stood up like the chair was on fire, shooting you a final don’t fuck this up look before vanishing into the kitchen.

The moment she was gone, silence settled in.

“Y/N.”

Oh no.

You turned back to find her dad watching you—not coldly, but still very much in dad mode.

You straightened your back. “Yes, sir?”

He sighed, rubbed his thumb along the edge of his glass. “I hope I didn’t come off too harsh earlier.”

“She’s never brought anyone home before.” He continued,. “It’s not that I don’t like you. I just—”

“I get it,” you cut in gently. “You love her. You want her safe. You want the best.”

His eyes searched your face for a second, like he was testing if you meant it. Then, finally, a quiet nod.

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he added, softer this time. “It’s… nice to see her with someone stable.”

You swallowed.

That part was almost funny.

“Mhm. Yeah.” You forced a small smile. “Though—if I may? Just an opinion.”

He gave a cautious look. “Go on.”

You glanced toward the kitchen, then back. “I think you should let Hanni… be a little more free. She knows what she’s doing. She’s smart. And careful. But she can’t breathe if the leash is too short.”

He didn’t respond right away.

 “...You’re not what I expected.”

You tilted your head. “Is that a good thing?”

“We’ll see.” He smiled.

And from the kitchen came the sound of Hanni yelling “It’s fine, it’s just a little smoke!”

-

“See? I told you I got it,” you said, laughing as you leaned back on your hands.

Hanni groaned, dragging her palms down her face. “That was so embarrassing.”

“They loved me,” you teased, kicking at a loose pebble by your shoe.

She peeked at you through her fingers. “My dad looked like he wanted to run a background check.”

“He probably did.”

Hanni laughed. Briefly. Just a breath of it. Then her hands dropped back to her lap.

And maybe it was the way she went still for a second that made the next words come out the way they did.

“So… about the party?”

You meant it light—casual. But the air changed the second it left your mouth.

“Right,” she said, not looking at you. “The party.”

You didn’t press.

A breeze passed by, brushing her hair against her cheek. She exhaled.

“I… don’t think I can go.”

You paused. You kept the smile, but it felt wrong now—stiff at the corners.

“Oh,” you said. Tried to keep your voice from dipping. “Why not?”

“I know I said I would,” she added quickly. “And I meant it. I did. It’s just…”

Her eyes dropped to a chipped patch of wood near her feet. The porch creaked faintly as she shifted.

“Something came up?” you offered.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

You don’t believe her. Not fully. But you don’t push either. You just watch her thumb run over the same corner of fabric again and again, like maybe she thinks she can rub the moment away if she tries hard enough.

“I mean,” you said gently, “you don’t have to stay long. You can come late, leave early. I’ll walk you in. I’ll walk you out. Whatever makes it easier.”

She doesn’t look at you.

There’s this beat where it feels like something invisible’s pressing in around your chest.

“Why are you pushing this so much?” 

You blinked.

“…What?”

She turned toward you a little, brows drawn but not angry. Just… searching.

“What’s in it for you?” she asked.

You blinked again, slower this time. The porch creaked faintly under your shifting weight.

“What do you mean?”

“This. All of this.” Her voice didn’t rise, but something in it curled tight. “Why do you want me at this party so bad?”

You straightened a little, suddenly aware of how your hands were resting in your lap, your thumb rubbing over the side of your palm like a nervous tic.

“Because I want you there,” you say, trying to keep your voice even. “Is that weird?”

She didn’t answer.

You kept going, “Do I need a reason to want to hang out with you? I thought that was kind of the point.”

Still, nothing.

You fumble for something else. Anything. “I just thought… I don’t know. It’d be nice. If you were there.”

And for a second, you think she softens.

But it’s not toward you. It’s not the kind of soft that says maybe she’s changing her mind. It’s like she already has.

She stands up. Slowly. Like she’s waiting to see if you’ll say something that changes the moment.

You don’t.

“I should go,” she says, quieter than before.

“Hanni—”

She turns, and the porch creaks. The door groans a little as you wait for the slam.

But it doesn’t come. 

She closes it softly.

—

The clock blinked 12:00 in that soft, judgmental way only digital clocks can—like it wasn’t just keeping time but reminding her that she was still here, still stuck, still on the same page of the same notebook she’d been staring at since the sky was pink.

The page in front of her was a mess—ink smudges, arrows drawn and redrawn until they tore the paper, chemical formulas that no longer made sense under the dim light of her desk lamp, and at the very bottom of the page, almost invisible, a small dot where her pen had rested too long.

She let her head fall forward with a soft thud against the desk, cheek pressed to her open notes, breathing in that dry-paper scent, that weird combination of ink and highlighter and the faint, lingering smell of the strawberry lotion she applied earlier that day just to feel a little more like a person and a little less like a panic machine.

Was she being too much?

Too guarded, too reactive, too quick to assume the worst of someone who’d—God—looked at her like she mattered? Someone who'd laughed like she was easy to love and touched her guitar with careful hands and eyes full of awe, not like it was an instrument, but like it was an extension of her? 

She didn't know. And she hated not knowing.

Uncertainty was an itch she couldn’t scratch. It crawled under her skin, filled the silence in her chest, made her legs bounce and her throat tighten and her hand reach, again and again, for the only thing that had ever calmed her down when her thoughts grew too loud.

The guitar was resting by the bed, just where she'd left it that morning, leaned against the wall like it had been waiting for her. It always waited.

She picked it up carefully, fingers brushing over the frets.

She tried to strum—just a chord, anything, but her hands didn’t want to move the way they usually did, and her brain wasn’t offering her the usual pour of melodies. It just gave her you.

You, watching her play with your chin in your palm and your eyes too bright for the dim room. You, nodding to her rhythm like it was something sacred. You, the soft exhale of breath after the last note, like you’d been holding it the whole time.

You, handing her a bunny bandage after she pricked her finger on a snapped string

And suddenly, even the strings didn’t sound right, God—even music had too much of you in it.

She sighed and placed the guitar back down, careful not to let it clatter. She’d scratched it once, two years ago, on the leg of her desk, and it still made her stomach flip every time she saw that shallow scar on the side—because she remembered crying after, like it was a person she’d hurt. Like it had feelings.

She sat on the bed for a while, not doing anything.

Her phone was beside her, lit up with unread messages. The one from earlier still sat there, unopened from an anonymous number.

“You really think she’s not playing you?”

She hadn’t responded. She didn’t know if she wanted to.

Should she show you? Should she say sorry for how quick she’d pulled away, for the look she’d given you when you asked about the party, like you were offering a trap and not a night to be near her?

She didn’t know. And she hated that, too.

The competition was in a week. She needed to study. Needed to focus. No distractions, no parties, no goddamn feelings.

And yet here she was, letting her whole night warp around someone’s stupid laugh and someone’s stupid stammer and someone’s stupid eyes that didn’t know how to lie. 

Ironic, really. You’re a psych major.

You should’ve been better at lying.

She turned her head toward the shelf by the corner of the room, eyes falling on a pink party hat, that had crinkled at the edges and had tiny stars glued to it by a child’s hand.

It had dust on the tip.

She hadn’t touched it in years.

Minji’s birthday. That’s where it was from. She remembered the park, the cake, Minji’s mom tying the hat ribbon too tight under her chin, making her sound like a squeaky toy when she laughed.

And she remembered a kid.

A kid, just like her, who wandered a little too far from the picnic table and got bitten by a cat that didn’t want to be touched. She didn’t cry, though. Just sat there, hand pressed to her other bitten hand.

She had a Hello Kitty bag that day, full of nothing useful—stickers, crayons, a couple of mints she wasn’t supposed to eat—but she did have a Band-Aid. She remembers holding it in her hand, about to walk toward the kid.

And then the rain came down like the sky had decided to interfere, and Minji’s mom pulled her back toward the car, and the Band-Aid never made it past her fist.

She remembered watching through the foggy car window as the girl sat under the slide, ankle swelling, rain soaking the top of her head like she didn’t even notice.

And she remembered how, even then, she thought—I want to be like her.

The kid with the brave face and the quiet mouth and the line of medals that came later. Hanni clapped from her seat while you stood on the stage. 

And then one day, she was gone. Disappeared between semesters like the girl were never there to begin with.

She remembered checking the park that summer. Looking for something familiar. But all she found was an orange cat curled up in the tunnel. Waiting, like it had been left behind, too.

Waiting for what?

She still didn’t know.

Like how she didn’t know whether to risk it.

Fine.

She’ll go to the stupid party.

---------------

a/n: if you made it to the end—WOWWIEE. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING I LOVE YOU. LET’S KISS.

alsooo if you’ve seen any of my unfinished series or smau lurking around… pls be fr… what do you wanna see continued 😭🙏 drop it in the replies or inbox pls i am weak for feedback ily fr tee hee

10 likes and i wont do my school works

taglist: @keiji-jin @strangercat @hazel-tanthamore22 @yjiminswallet @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @Mj.Db @frankzz9 @hydrardz @arihiu @jkwsel @saysirhc @somedaydream @peranoo @syronns @angiisss @nnewjeansstuff @nishi-riki @imsogay504 @wintersgff @sh1ba100 @tashasmywife @Takuhg @groundedfr @wanderer.inc

[lemonsquashhh]

First Meeting (Jamil x F!OC)🌺🦜🐍

messy sketches cuz uwu im lazy (I tried my best with jamil’s hair!)

I actually shyly introduced Imani (my oc based on Iago) a while back (here) when i first started this account. Anyways, kudos to my friend @falsegodsprophecy for the idea for Jamil and Imani’s first meeting! It’s kinda inspired by the scene from Aladdin where Jasmin went to the marketplace by herself. But instead, Imani got upset at seeing a fellow parrot trapped in a cage. With jamil saving Imani from legal trouble, he places her in his debt. So while he’s away at NRC, she’s been helping out at Kalim’s home. Over time, I see them growing closer to the point where they both feel like they can be vulnerable with each other. On days where Jamil is very busy and needs to focus on work, Imani will use the skills she picked up to take care of bothersome chores. Jamil has also gathered a collection of treasure that Imani has brought back from her occasional adventures (she loves exploring old ruins). With the growing pile, Kalim has offered Jamil to store his collection in a spare room.

Idk does anyone find this interesting?

[cosmicwavelengths]

funny things i remember from sunset blvd (2024/jamie lloyd production)

when joe comes out of the body bag at the top of the show (i think tom was struggling a bit with the zipper, so from my perspective he kinda shimmied out of it lmfao)

"you've come to the right party ;)"

"i love it when you talk dirty"

"right now, i'd like to crawl into a hole and pull it in after me" same, betty

also her smile fading once she realizes that she talked shit about joe's script right in front of him lmfao

sheldrake echoing joe's earlier line ("i believe in self-denial") because joe is god's least favorite, apparently

joe's crashout is just yelling incoherently and stomping around in the circle like a toddler (i have no idea what he's saying)

"come to get your knife back? it's still there, right between my shoulder blades" (never change joe)

"i really liked it" "i'm all warm and runny inside" (lmfao joe)

"writers with pride don't live in LA" the shade

"I AM BIG - it's the pictures that got smaller" queen

"wait... did you say you were a writer?" "that's what it says on my guild card"

"looks like six very important pictures"

"i didn't know you were planning a comeback" "i Hate. that word. it's a return! :D"

"you shouldn't let another writer see your work, he may steal it" norma, looking him up and down "....i'm not afraid"

"i said SIT - DOWN...." music stops, cue joe looking around confused because there's no chair (or set) so he sits on the floor

nicole shaking ass to ALW is fucking hilarious ("PUMP PUMP")

"just how... old is salome?" "sixteen :D"

"i can say anything i want with my EYES"

nicole mouthing "i will kill you" (i think) into the camera

"well i'm pretty busy" "yea i don't care"

"don't you worry about moneyyyyy i'll make it worth your while honayyyy"

"how did you know i was staying here?" and max simply ignores him

"how did it go?" "well, i wish i were dead" real

joe as the uppity/out-of-work hack and betty being the studio smartass lol

while talking to betty, joe turns to the camera - "remember: it's only a movie" dramatic ass lol

when artie invites joe to his new year's party they do a cute handshake

max: "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN" with the camera right in his face

joe's dramatic ass "ohhh god" upon hearing they'll be watching norma's old "weepy melodramas"

honestly joe and norma's dynamic is very much black cat boyfriend/golden retriever girlfriend (except she is crazy) and it's pretty fun in itself

not technically funny, but the way joe holds norma's hand is so precious (in 'today is the day')

norma (pretending?) hyperventilating upon joe saying "its not about the money"

straight up going ("eughh?" at first ijbol)

joe teasing max about who's coming to norma's new years eve party ("maaaax")

"nonono not on the same floor as rudy valentino!"

max giving them party hats and throwing up some confetti with zero emotion

joe and norma doing dorky dances is the cutest thing ever (also "the perfect year" SLAPS thank you ALW)

joe dodging norma's attempt at kissing him so he kinda cradles her head

"there are noooo other guests :) just you :) and me :)))"

"i'm in love with you... surely, you know that, right?" - cue joe's look of :o (shock) bro was SHOOK

at the new year's party, the ensemble is kinda bumping and grinding to 'this time next year'

joe's reaction to betty still pushing along with dark windows - "well hallelujah :|"

some guy passes in front of the camera (while joe is addressing it) with a v sign lol (act one only bc i'm lazy atm but I WILL come back)

[alanaartdream]

Ok my adhd brain doesn’t want to sleep until I draw my Fairy Timmy (with the Nicktoons unite gang) having to deal with grown up Dale hitting on him because

@jaytalking Fairy Timmy au inspired @bunnieswithknives to draw Dale’s one sided love with their fairy Timmy design and I couldn’t stop laughing and giggling seeing a Adult Jimmy Neutron being oooh so mad at dale for trying to get with Timmy in my mind

As you can see I had to sketch it out

Now peri and Jimmy are planning Dale’s demise as we speak while Danny and SpongeBob are wondering if they should help Timmy to get away from this Dale Creep

I kinda want to draw Jimmy with his hair down but figured people might not recognise Jimmy without his classic hairstyle ^^;

Also why Danny drawn as a beefcake here? (Or my attempt at drawing a adult beefcake Danny) well Bustch up on his YouTube channel has given up some drawings/ stories information on what adult Danny Sam and Trucker would be and apparently they’re a incredible ghost hunting team in their future; Sam And Danny get Married & Tucker ends up mayor/ president of their town/ city aaaannnddd because of all the ghost fighting Danny been doing for YEARS he becomes very fit and ripped (( can someone tell me why But h likes to make his male protagonist grow up to be big beefcakes? Because it seems to be a trend with him))

Also I heard someone say that butch once said he wanted to Make Danny Fenton/ phantom and Timmy Turner Cousins but didn’t go through with that idea because that would’ve been pretty good idea AND would explain why A) Timmy and Danny kinda look alike a bit and B) Timmy’s crazy lazy and very dumb birth parents where kinda obsessed with ghost hunting in their past before they had Timmy (but they were SO OO bad at it I mean they way of fighting ghosts was to blow up the house the ghosts were hunting and they blew up everyone’s house and got chased to the other side of town and had to change their names.. Danny & Danny’s parents would be horrified learning there was ghost hunters this bad out there)

Also I was gonna go with Danny saying

*do you see this shit SpongeBob* but then thought no way would Danny swear around his emotional support sponge 🧽

Also in my fairy Timmy can’t stand Dale either

And being as Wanda & Cosmo knows Timmy did want to grow his hair out but his birth father never LET him and would always cut it short if he was to be adopted by them and raised with Peri/poof then I’d know Timmy would grow his hair out and keep it in a ponytail as a fairy adult so it’s why my fairy Timmy has long hair

Danny being as he’s fighting ghosts all the time and being as Butch has said Sam & Danny get married and have 2 kids who inherit Ghost powers but a little different from their Dad he most likely doesn’t want his hair too long and it might just be a little long but not long enough to tie up being as he most likely needs to look professional being the city’s ghost protector/ fighter and likely doesn’t want his hair to bother him while he fights ghosts

Just my own experience being as I work for a hospital and had my hair short before to try to keep it from bothering me during a hot summer working week but thanks to being busy and some lockdowns it’s back to being long now but I understand keeping a hold city and raising kids means yo have no time dealing with long hair so mostly try to keep it shortish

Anyway thank you for enjoying my silly au ideas and drawings it’s been fun to draw them down

[the-faceless-bride]

Peter Parker x Reader

Break-ups and new found Love.

Warnings: mentions of edibles and smoking, also a kinda?? Angsty open ending? But that’s pretty much it.

A/N: This was not asked for, nor is this a good short fanfic. I just got fixated on Mcu Peter and thought this up while at work lol. It’s a mix of Hc and a Blurb cuz this is a big idea of mine that I don’t have the time to fully write out but I might later if people like it.

Poor Peter. The Avengers felt bad for the kid, even Sam. Sam wanted to poke fun at Pete at first but seeing how sad he was he just couldn’t.

Mj had broken up with Peter, she liked Peter but with his Spider work and they’ve been friends for so long that to be romantic with each other felt a bit too off for her. It wasn’t anything wrong with him. But he definitely took it personally.

And so for the past 5 months he had been mopey and sad-eyed; the spark in his eyes had dulled and he even stopped Geeking out over cool tech stuff. It was so unsettling to see their geeky, smiley, dorky Peter had been taken from them and replaced but a shell. Only talking about training and what ever the next mission they are working on.

They were all pretty worried about him. Steve was the most sympathetic of the group, Tony was the most confused; why would Peter be so hung up about it? He’s only 18 and graduated. “He’s got all of collage to talk to girls.” He would say as he finished making the popcorn for tonight’s movie.

“Well, Spider-boy doesn’t exactly have the same playboy attitude you had his age Tony.” Sam reminded the group, “yeah, he’s still a young boy” Steve started before Natasha added “the world might as well’v ended for him.”

But in the past few weeks though it was small they’d seen improvement and so that’s why they were all having a movie night. And for the first time in 7 months when Peter walked down the steps he’d smiled at them; and not the tight short smile he gave them when they asked if he was ok. It was a real smile, with a newly kindled twinkle to his chocolate eyes.

“Hey guys!”

Even his voice sounded different, it was lighter and less grim. Their Peter was back, but now they were curious on what so heavily changed his mood.

They noticed that Peter could barley focus on the movie as he was too busy texting someone, they thought it was his friend Ned at first but then they caught a glimpse of a shy smile, his eyes shifting around the screen as he thought of a reply before chewing on his bottom lip and typing.

That made the team suddenly very interested in Peter’s phone also, and a few moments later Peter felt the eyes of his teammates on him.

His eyes shifted between them all sat around him, before he pulled his phone to his chest to subconsciously hide the screen, “what?” He asked “nothing, just interested who’s got you smiling like a dork.” Sam joked, “oh- uh- it’s nobody- well, not nobody but-“ Peter stammering over his sentence attempting to pick better works trying to not offend someone who wasn’t even in the room.

Peter eventually gets too embarrassed to continue and excuses himself to the bathroom, immediately looking down at his phone as soon as he stands.

…

“No playboy Mindset my ass” Tony Joked.

You and Peter had met on accident. You’d gone to the same school but weren’t in the same friend group.

You had been laying on top of an abandoned building when you’d seen a very fast figure move across the buildings in the area before landing and taking off his mask before trying to change into normal clothes, “Holy Shit. Peter Parker?”

Peter froze, why were you up here?!? This late?!? In this part of town?!???! “What are you?- Why?- Who?-“ Peter stumbled as you stood up flicking the joint you’d just finished away before walking up to him, “don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” you give the brunette a lazy smirk and he eyes you suspiciously “and how do I know that?” He questioned, “you’ll just have to keep checkin’ up on me to find out.”

And the rest is history, what started as a few meet ups on rooftops, turned into exchanging numbers texting back and forth all the time to meeting at the each other’s houses to build legos or do homework, and eventually sleepovers.

Over the past two weeks you and Peter had become close fast friends, and the night that took a more romantic turn when Peter had accidentally eaten three of your strong edibles and seeing as he’s never been high before and so had a very low tolerance to say he was a bit freaked out would be an understatement. And after a long 5 minutes of Panicking you were able to calm him down and offer to go through it together so he wasn’t alone, you took one of your gummies and pulled Peter on to the mattress you had on the floor and by his request started watching the Star Wars movies; Peter interjecting the movie ever other minute to add more context or dialogue to the movie, which made it all the more interesting for you to watch.

You’d spent majority of the time watching his Geeky movies and using your phone to Dash a few small Lego sets to your place for him to do when he started to get antsy, he’d even gotten comfortable enough to cuddle up to you a bit while he was watching the movie simultaneously building Lego… until a big wave of nausea hit him and he raced to your bathroom to throw up, which he was very red faced about; but you assured him that it was perfectly normal and nothing to be embarrassed about before telling him more embarrassing sick stories about you and your friends high.

And so the night ended with Peter laughing while Brushing his teeth as you told him about the time you’d thrown up on your friends shoes while on a high walk in the middle of the night, and him laying his head in your lap as you ran your fingers through his curly brown hair as you finished your last Star Wars movie.

Your relationship with Peter had taken a romantic turn that night and since then you’ve both been touchy and snuggly with one another. And you’ve helped his sadness turn to happiness and hope that you two, though you hadn’t even properly kissed yet, would end up together and last.

He’s still a bit shy to talk about you with Mr.Stark and his other team members, but he’s even more worried about them finding out you know he’s spider-man, Sam will never let him hear the end of it.

As for you, you really like Peter. He had captivated you in the same way you had him, you knew he probably was seeing you through rose tinted glasses after his hard break up and you know deep down you’re probably just a rebound. But you’re ok with that. As long as you get to keep Peter for a while longer, you would be ok.

[pseudophan]

there’s this one anon in particular who is so fascinating imo bc they seem to go around to a great deal of phannie blogs who are only ever nice people minding their own business. and this anon’s like committed enough to constantly be doing this and has been for months now. yet despite that they’re like… not committed enough to send any sort of unique HATE? it’s only ever the same copy-pasted “ur not funny” “do u ever shut up” “ugly ass art” etc and it’s like all clearly the same guy and it’s like… what do u even get out of this…. what is this for…

low self esteem, poor mental health, bad life situation, pick your poison i suppose. i know it's sooo cliché but most of the time it literally is just people's lives being kinda shitty and feeling the need to take it out on others. doesn't make it okay of course, but i find that keeping that in mind really does make rude comments online a lot less hurtful. hell for me personally i've had a fair few anons reach out and apologise for having been mean to me several years prior, and the reasoning is always some variation of the above, and frankly i don't even blame them. yeah man, shit sucks, and sometimes you're gonna be a dick because of it. like it's giving hollywood movie script but it's unfortunately so real lol. but i think that's also part of why it seems like a lot of very kind people on here get the rudest asks, because if you have a strong urge to be mean to others and have enough self awareness to dislike that about yourself, of course someone who's generally just nice is gonna piss you off further. like as a certified hater and occasional miserable cunt, BOY have i gotten irrationally annoyed at people who appear happy and/or nice all the time lmao, like i might not be sending hate to anyone but i do at least somewhat understand the emotions behind it. you just gotta power through and not take it out on them though, is the thing

but really though. anon hate is sooo embarrassing. i could preach about how it's Mean And Bad cause yeah that too, but let's focus on the most important aspect, which is how incredibly cringe it is..... if you absolutely have be mean, say it with your whole chest! i hate the bullying culture they've got going on over on twitter (as a whole not just the phannies) but at least they're owning it. anon hate is just a pussy move lmao, especially if it's lazy like whoever this person going around is, like you said. cmon lets be creative here. i can appreciate a good insult! it's an art form, really. i think about 'maybe if you didn't use the q slur your dad wouldn't have left you, thank u next' every week of my life and it's been six years or so since i got that ask

ok obligatory disclaimer that you obviously shouldn't be a dick to people even if you're creative about it, but like there's at least tiers here and i would say anonymously going "ur not funny" is at the absolute bottom of the list lol

[star-lights-up]

OKAY OKAY but. Cherik AU idea. Modern au.

So you know those driverless cars that you can get a service to? They're actually fairly reliable, and they drive pretty well... sometimes better than the other people. I've taken one once with a friend who had the service, and it was actually cool once I stopped freaking out about being in a car with no driver. Anyway, there's this one flaw... someone can stand in front of the vehicle, and the vehicle will not move. It can't move, because it would hit the person. So you're effectively trapped. I saw an instagram reel about how this woman was getting harassed by this guy who wouldn't move away from the car until she gave him her number. Awful stuff like that.

So for some reason my brain went cherik au. Neither of them are the harasser dw.

So charles is a drag queen who works at this drag club run by a friend of his. It's on a relatively un-busy street. Anyway, he's coming out of work early one day for... some reason, i'm too lazy to think of one, and he's still wearing his makeup and has a skirt on and stuff, and these two dudes start kinda harassing him while he's waiting for his car.

The car comes after a minute or so and he expects it to be alright, he gets in and is ready to leave, but then the dudes start standing in front of the car, and the car can't leave. He leans out the window and tells them to fuck off, they're in the road.

It's getting to the point where it's been a stupid amount of time and he's considering calling the cops when this third dude walks up and starts yelling at the other guys. They laugh it off at first, pointing at charles and being like, look at him, he's ridiculous, we're just having a bit of fun, and then the other guy is like. threatening them very harshly, and he's quite tall, and eventually they turn tail and leave. The new guy does a quick thumbsup-thumbsdown-you-okay? hand signal at charles through the windshield, then gets out of the way when he smiles and said he was okay. The car begins driving off.

And then the idea is that charles is like wow that guy was handsome. And then at work the next day there's this new drag queen, I've spent an ungodly amount of time thinking of dragneto's drag name but i'm not going to share any of them here because at this point it's just stupid. Anyways, Charles is like oh my god most spectacular drag queen EVER but doesn't recognize her as erik. Erik assumes he knew the whole time. misunderstandings ensue.

Also all the other x men are gay in this. like more so than usual. Highlight reel, we've got:

alex and darwin (who i think own the drag club) (charles is working there until he gets on his feet again after his mother cut him off)

raven and irene, ororo and jean, emma and moira, (our lovely lesbians.)

scott and logan (they fight a lot)

wade (the pansexual nightmare that nobody knows what to do with he's just chaotically there)

angel and sean (they're dating but they're both bi and kind of function like gay best friends.

aro/ace hank (who's just chilling and watching the drama unfold.)

[beatboxingprodigy]

Uhm. Last legacy main4 like...modern au playlists, I genuinely apologize for rambling sm

putting these on here because J sent them in thw discors and I could litwrally heaaarrr thw crickets😞

anisa!! I have used the description thing on spotify but like who'll read it off spotify? I kept it soft, I feel like she likes winding down with friends or MC instead of alone, so she'd just listen to whatevers kn. But if she did have a choice, she'd keep it soft like this stuff. Also I see her as a hopeless romantic so I put lots of laufey, also I kept it short because on her own I think she'd be more picky with her music, as well as the fact that I think she's rlly like too busy to listen to music on her own much so she's just kinda like 'well I have all my favorites why make it any longer'. I also think she would enjoy her friends more alternative tastes, so she thinks abt makinf a playlist but just ends up savinf the others playlists cuz she procrastinates it too much.... I think she listens to that pther stuff if she's in more of a 'screaming into her pillow' mood rather than a 'god give me time to rest PLEASE'

Felix!!!! I feel like when I see Felix playlists they're like never goth? I put some romanticy/sexual songs because he's both a hopeless romantic and a freak. I can also see him having like a thousand playlists and listening to just generally alternative music(cant see him being basic at all because he just isnt) I can also see him listening to like moodier classical music I just am not abt to makw a classical music playlist. I might make more for him, I can see him listening to musicals(any dracula, jeckyl and hyde if thats hpw u spell it idk, stuff like tgat) and more theatrical stuff, like I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME and likeeee bearghost, sunday driver, aurelio voltaire, and things of that nature

Sage!!!! I imagins him listwning to like rocker dad music and nu metal(so thats what pretty much the whole playlist is..) I also see him listening to rap and like hip-hop and like general club or party music. Though I think he'd have maybe a couple other playlists of that stuff, and idk if this is me projecting but I think he'd start a playlist with a certain idea but like be too lazy to search songs so he just uses the reccomended stuff...so by the end of the playlist making its four hours long and he's jusr kinda like 'well shit I dont know half these songs' and the original point has been lost so its just all the music he likes(kinda what I did for this but I know all of the bands, jusf dont listen to them much or dont like the skng much+taking into account what he'd like) also I see modern au sage as like a bit of a punk. I also think he listens to like gross nasty metal. Not often but soemtimes. Always with band names like 'stinky shit cum rotten whore forest'

Rime!! Plus the last playlist. A lot of the time playlists for him seem kinda just like whatever freaky music the person knows? Which isnt bad I just dont rlly see him listening to only that, I also cant see him listening to music made by men very odten idk why...I also think that he likes to match the chaos of whayever going on in his head with the music, so irs all pretty loud(and unintentional but lots of riot girl). I think he'd also have maybe not as many as felix but a few more playlists as well. I think he'd also listen to general alternative music and somw more popular stuff depending on how quick it is(he also for sure has anisas playlist saved if he wants a quick little shameful crying session idk...I see it in my head...) I think he'd also listen to like spooky creepy girl music (Lalleshwari, Liar flower, and I can also see Felix enjoying that stuff but Rime more becahse I think he love love loves horror that isnt so gorey or in ur face but more weird and offputting)

if u read this all the way through I love you so much, and I apologize for the bad grammar and spelling mstakes. I type too fast and its too late at night for me to care abt this axtually making any sense at all)

[goosewriting]

📮 You got mail!

Welcome back to requests!! Hope you’ve been doing well-!! may I request reader that does biscuits on Hobie? Like what would his reaction be? They’re human, but when they hug something or someone they’re close to their hands turn into fists and kinda knead/tap the persons back or wherever their hands are in the hug. I’m okay if you add anything else here, can be in any format you like :^D

💌 -BVA🐰🎟️

biscuits.

summary: reader “doing biscuits” on hobie.

relationship: Hobie Brown x GN reader

warnings: none, pure fluff!

word count: ~550 

A/N: BV anon my beloved<3 this request was so cute, thank you! by no means do i know how to write hobie’s accent so i hope i still made our boi justice :’D 

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

As you wake up, you keep your eyes closed for just a moment longer, enjoying the warmth of your bed. Taking a deep breath and stretching your limbs, you blink a couple of times to get the sleep out of your eyes. Your gaze falls onto the figure next to you and you smile to yourself.

Hobie stayed over after movie night, and you just stay there for a couple of seconds, watching his back steadily rising and falling with each breath. Overflowing with affection, and with your brain still partially fogged by sleep and lazy cosiness, you scoot closer to your boyfriend and start massaging his back. 

First you draw indecipherable figures, your fingertips warm against his bare back. Then you use the ball of your hands to gently knead him, like a cat would. The thought makes you smile, knowing full well that if you could purr right now, you probably would. 

Suddenly, the skin under your hands vibrates slightly as Hobie’s deep chuckle resonates through him. You pull back quickly, heat prickling at your cheeks.

“Sorry,” you apologise with a sheepish smile, and Hobie shoots you a sleepy glance over his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He smiles, turning away again and shuffling a bit to get comfy, arching his back towards you ever so slightly.

“Good morning to you too,” he says through a yawn. “Don’t stop. ‘S nice.”

“O-oh, okay,” you respond, and get back to work. You’re not really sure what you’re doing, and there’s no pattern to follow, but through his grunts and hums, you try to figure out what he seems to like, and adjust your pressure and direction accordingly.

“So,” Hobie says after a few moments. “What’re you baking?”

Your hands stop their motions for a second as your brows crease together in confusion. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, resuming your massaging.

“Well, you’re kneading me like dough, so you better be making something delicious.”

You laugh and warmth spreads through your chest, both at his comment as well at the fact that he’s playing along.

“Hmm, yes. There’s a busy day ahead,” you say in a serious tone, emphasising every word with a kneading motion. “Pizza, cinnamon rolls, biscuits.”

Then a thought occurs to you, and even though he can’t see you, Hobie can hear your smile in your voice, no matter how hard you try to bite it back.

“So many biscuits,” you go on. “Hobie biscuits. Hobiscuits, if you will. Spiderscones, some would say.”

Hobie snorts, then turns around to face you and hugs you to him. He’s impossibly warm, and you unabashedly snuggle into his chest.

“Now I’m hungry,” he states. “Maybe we can do some actual baking today? I’m craving some sort of pastry with all this dough talk.”

“Yeah, me too,” you reply. “Good thing I got my biscuit right here.” 

Before he can give you a warning “Oi!” you give his shoulder a loving nip, making an exaggerated biting sound, and climb off the bed, quickly slipping from his attempt to hold you. 

“C’mon, breakfast ain’t gonna bake itself!” you tell him standing at the end of the bed. 

“Oh, it is on,” Hobie smirks, and you laugh as you skidaddle into the kitchen, with your boyfriend hot on your trail, eager to unleash a tickle attack on you.

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @galaxtic-writings, @dybynyght

[emeraldgreenbeautiesstu]

MATT X READER PLS.

Then book shopping n it’s all cute n stuff 😻😻‼️

Bernard's & Noble

(see what i did there)

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Word count: 749

Alexis speaks! : hey guys! thank you for the request (the more requests, the more stories i post 😉) i'm honestly not very proud of this one, but i've deleted it four times already and this is the best i got 💀 once again, comments and likes are greatly appreciated, it helps me know if yall like my style or if i need to change anything! pls don't steal my work, love yall!

-

"Matttt?" i whined from my spot on the floor. i was bored out of my fucking mind. Matt wanted the day to be a 'lazy day' and by that he means he wanted to scroll social media and youtube all day. that was not my idea of fun, i've always been a hands on person whether that be going outside for hours, to the lake, reading, anything other than being lazy at home.

"whattttt?" he mocked, sitting up from his bed, his hair all messed up and funny looking.

i chuckled. "your hair looks great." i smiled, climbing to straddle his lap and fix his bed head. "better" i smiled, kissing him on the cheek. "i have a business proposal."

matt sighed, "what do you want." he rolled his eyes with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

i hopped off him, standing at the foot of his bed. "i vote we go to barnes and noble today, my book case is baren." i joked. four out of the five of my bookshelves were full completely. but you can never have too many books.

"y/n you have more books than i think i've ever seen anywhere else in my life." he laughed. matt pretended to be annoyed, but he knows the answer is yes. and not just to this scenario, the answer is always yes to everything y/n wants. she had him wrapped around her tiny little finger. "when do you want to go?" he gave in.

i jumped around the room a couple times, silently celebrated with myself. "right now silly." i said. i trotted into his bathroom where i have my own drawer of toiletries and such. i touched up my makeup and threw on my shoes. "ok i'm ready." i beamed up at him. matt basically towered over me. he's 5'8 and i'm 5'3, so there's a pretty noticeable height difference.

he slipped his own shoes on. "i'm ready." he smiled, grabbing his keys.

i just looked at him. "matt babe." i looked at his outfit. "we are not going anywhere when you are wearing basketball shorts and a wife beater. please change." i said, false seriousness evident on my features.

-

"oh my god i'm literally gonna shit my pants i love barnes and noble." i said, climbing out of the passenger seat. I made matt carry my three tote bags i have designated for my favorite hobby, book shopping.

"do i really have to come in." matt complained.

-

we had been at barnes and noble for an hour already, two out of the three of my tote bags were full. so full we had to put them by checkout because they were too heavy to carry. About 15 minutes in i had made a joke that i thought was hilarious, matt didn't really think so.

-

"haha, bernard's and noble." i chuckled to myself, but matt heard me.

"y/n i swear to god i will leave you here."

"deal."

-

i was finally ready to go, the final tote bag full. i couldn't find matt though. i wandered through the multiple sections of books, matt no where in sight. "maybe he did leave me here." i mumbled under my breath. until my eye caught matt. he was crouched down, one hand on the shelf, the other hand occupied with a book.

"whatchya readin?" i smiled over him. my heart melted when he looked up at me, a small smile on his face. i took this time to take in his beauty. the way his slight curls fell over his eyebrows, the way his middle part accentuated his face shape, the way his blue eyes went so well with his outfit. he was wearing the white shirt with 'whatever' in bold print written across it, and baggy light wash blue jeans, his keys dangling from his belt loop.

"some poetry book, i might get it it's kinda fire." he smiled.

"you read poetry?"

"i like finding the good ones and printing them out, i like to look back on the really influential ones." matt said. he stood up and took my bag, his hand resting on the small of my back.

"matt i don't deserve you, you're so sweet." a cheesy grin creeping onto my lips.

"y/n you deserve the world." he smiled down at me, kissing my forehead.

"ok now how are we gonna get all of these in the car?" i laughed.

-

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