#micro home challenge

[simulated-inkydoc]

Whimsy Legacy Expanded - Gen 1 random update (2)

Hear ye, hear ye, we have a baby!

wee Saffron here marks the first baby in a hopefully long, long, long list of babies in this family tree, and also my first venture into the infant gameplay :D he is very cute and a wiggly little kid, a perfect (and a bit tiring) little bundle of joy :3 he also hit a lot of developmental milestones so far, he can now sit by himself, but still prefers the sweet caress of his parents' arms.

bonus image of the most millenial thing Rosalie has done so far, checking her phone while giving a nap to little Saffron :D

yes the parents had to have bunk beds for a while. it was less than ideal, but when in a micro home... and I was fully planning on sticking it out for a lot longer like this, but because of the lack of space they kept bringing Saffron outside in pouring rain so had to make the house upgrade a little earlier than planned... at least now the parents can watch tv while the bebby sleeps in the other room.

oh also! caught a lightning strike, so have that too :3

#Tem plays Whimsy

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

How to Start Writing Again When the Spark Fades

Sometimes the well of creativity runs dry, leaving you staring at a blank page with nothing but frustration. But trust that the art of writing is as much about the journey as it is about the destination. Here are some ideas to help you reconnect with your writing practice when you feel like your passion has dimmed.

Redefine Your Environment Consider taking a deliberate step outside your usual writing space. The environment in which you work can drastically affect your mindset and creative flow. Even if it’s setting up in a different corner of your home, finding refuge in a local café, or enjoying the subtle distractions of a park bench, a change in scenery often signals a mental reset. This isn’t about permanent relocation, just a simple shift can break the monotony and stir new ideas that have been hiding in plain sight.

Embrace Imperfection The pressure to produce perfect prose can be paralyzing. Give yourself permission to create something imperfect yet honest. Think of every sentence you write as a rough sketch, a necessary experiment in understanding your own voice. When you allow yourself the space to write without the weight of perfection, you invite experimentation and genuine self-expression. That freedom lies at the heart of rediscovering why you fell in love with writing in the first place.

Set Incremental Goals for Continuous Momentum When the idea of diving into a full chapter feels overwhelming, scale back to manageable, bite-sized projects that feel achievable. Instead of demanding a polished page, challenge yourself to write a paragraph or even a single sentence each day. These micro-goals build a foundation of small successes, gradually restoring confidence and momentum. Over time, these consistent efforts enrich your creative reservoir, proving that every little step is indeed a victory.

Engage Deeply in the Process of Freewriting Allow yourself to spill thoughts onto the page without judgment or expectation. Freewriting is an exercise in vulnerability and self-exploration, offering you a space to unburden tangled ideas and unexpected insights. In these unfiltered moments, you might stumble upon a germ of an idea or a rediscovered passion that rekindles your creative fire. Embracing this unstructured approach can transform an intimidating blank page into an open canvas of potential you haven't tapped back into.

Rekindle Old Inspirations There is power in revisiting the work and moments that first ignited your creative spirit. Even if it’s rereading an old journal entry, rediscovering a favorite piece of literature, or reflecting on the stories that once moved you, reconnecting with your past inspirations can shed new light on your present creative journey. This reflective practice not only reminds you of your original passion but may also reveal new directions for your current writing endeavors.

Create a Consistent, Loving Writing Routine Creating a structured yet gentle routine can help reestablish your relationship with writing. Treat your writing time as a vital appointment, a moment carved out just for you. Even if inspiration seems scarce, the simple act of sitting down, opening your notebook, and letting words flow without self-censorship can be incredibly healing. Over time, this practice transforms writing from an obligation into a ritual of self-discovery and mindfulness.

Connect with a Community That Understands Engaging with fellow writers can remind you that you’re not alone in this struggle. The shared experience of creative highs and lows can be profoundly comforting. Join writing groups, participate in online forums, or simply reach out to someone whose work inspires you. These interactions foster a sense of belonging and accountability, encouraging you to keep writing even when the path isn’t clear. In the gentle exchange of ideas and feedback, there is often a spark that reignites your dedication.

Every writer’s journey is unique, filled with ebbs and flows. If you’re feeling disconnected, know that these moments are integral to growth. Embrace each phase as an opportunity to rediscover writing on its own terms, and allow your passion to guide you back into the words you love. If you need any advice from me, never be afraid to send me an ask.

Until next time, Rin T.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Clichés and Canapés (M)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: best friends to lovers; fake dating; billionaire au

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader (f)

Word Count: 40K

Author's Note: Part of the In Bloom collaboration with @kithtaehyung, @yoonia, @syllviere, @leahsfavefics, @suga-kookiemonster, and @cybrsan. Unfortunately, this is so long it has to be posted in two parts; please interact with both!

Synopsis: After twenty years of friendship, you’d think you were used to Seokjin’s proposals by now. In the past he’s forced you to participate in skydiving, skinny dipping, and even staging a rescue from the local shelter. Seokjin has always had big ideas but this time, even he may have gone too far. Granted, break-ups are stressful, and Seokjin’s latest one up was bad. Really bad. As in, they-ended-things-in-December-and-now-she’s-dating-his-brother bad.

It almost makes sense then, when Seokjin asks you to come home with him for his parents' party. Almost makes sense when he says his family assumed you were dating, and he didn't correct them. What doesn’t make sense is the longer you fake things, the more you find yourself wondering if this was real all along.

Rating: 18+; explicit sexual content

Warnings (explicit content): oral (f. receiving), nipple play, delayed orgasms, sex w/out a condom, cum play, semi-public sex, light spanking, fingering, dirty talk, mention of voyeurism

Warnings (other): depictions of micro-aggressions, mentions of divorce (past tense), emotionally abusive/manipulative parents (side character)

Time is relative. A year can be both long and short, depending on which side you stand on. December is always a surprise, despite having lived through the months prior. The ‘you’ of today compared to the ‘you’ of last year always makes you feel ancient. The past year in particular packed more punches than most – some of them small, and some monumental enough to stop you in your tracks.

For example, this time last year – how is it already May? – you still worked in consulting, nimbly hanging from the top rung of the corporate later. But by the end of last summer, you had unceremoniously quit in a flurry of anger and paperwork. Last year had many difficulties but honestly, quitting wasn’t one of them.

No – one thing no one tells you in school is that all jobs kind of suck. There’s no one right answer, one right path. There are many careers you can enjoy – some of them taken by choice, others by happenstance and you’ll likely be good at more than one. Each one has a different toll, though. A different cost-benefit analysis, as you would have said last year.

You were good at consulting. There were many reasons you rose through the ranks. You always enjoyed a good challenge; enjoyed the thrill of being good at your job, but slowly realized work didn’t make you happy. Not when the cost was your free time and every ounce of value you saw in yourself.

Ambition is also a funny thing. Chasing a dream, even someone else’s, can be satisfying but eventually, you look down and notice the cracks in your life. Crevices between who you are and who you want to be, widening until the gap is unpardonable. The moment you notice is the moment you’re forced to make a decision.

For you, the decision was to quit.

God, it felt good to drop all the burdens. To leave your equipment with IT and stop caring about which projects were on track, which coworkers were slacking, and what the impact would be if certain laws passed. Petty concerns about petty people, all washed away by the sunlight outside.

The ‘you’ of ten years ago would have been embarrassed to call yourself a barista. The ‘you’ of ten years ago though, still believed in golden lies spun by corporations. The idea that if you worked hard enough, long enough – translation: made enough money – you would be happy. News flash: you weren’t. Or at least, not happy enough.

Working in a coffee shop has been fun. Enjoyable. Of course, there are rushes and harried customers and your feet hurt, but at the end of the day, you still have the energy left to be creative. That’s what matters to you.

Your friends have been saying as much to you for years. One friend in particular was convinced you needed to take a step back, but you rarely listened to Seokjin when it came to matters of work. With his upbringing, his family, it wasn’t like money was ever a concern to him, and –

“Y/N? Hellooo? Y/N!”

Jerking upright, you realize Jimin has been calling your name. Screwing the cap on the syrup, you glance over your shoulder.

Jimin leans against the counter at an angle which, frankly, defies gravity. One impeccable brow lifted, he watches with both arms folded over his apron.

Slowly, you set down the syrup. “How many times did you call my name?”

Jimin shakes his head. “At least three. I understood at first, but then I started worrying you were losing your hearing. You know, because of your age.”

“I’m three years older than you, Jimin. Not decrepit.”

“Right.” A deep sigh. “Thirty. And here I am, young and virile and still in my twenties.”

“Ugh,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “Please don’t ever say virile to me again. And you’re in your twenties for now,” you add. “You’ll be thirty someday.”

“Yes. In the far, far, far future.”

Despite his teasing, Jimin joins at the sink with an armful of bottles. He stacks them neatly on the counter, reaching to fill one with syrup.

The café is quiet on a Tuesday afternoon. A few patrons linger, typing on laptops with their over-ears on, but the morning and noon rush have come and gone. Until someone enters, there’s nothing to do but clean and prep for tomorrow. Reaching for the next canister, you realize Jimin is wearing a Look.

It’s a Look you’ve grown familiar with over the past month, since Jimin insists on having the same conversation.

“Oh, no,” you sigh.

“Oh, no – what?”

“Oh, no – why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Jimin widens his eyes, the picture of innocence.

“Like I just kicked a dog,” you grumble.

Someone glances up from their laptop, appalled, and your face heats, realizing they overheard between songs. Busying yourself, you turn around and place your back firmly to them.

Jimin grins. “W-ow, Y/N. Can’t your good friend – and roommate, might I add – look at you without an agenda? It’s like you’re so used to being alone, you push people away at the first hint of discomfort.”

You make a sputtering sound. “Okay, first off – ouch. Too real for a work conversation. And second, that is not what’s happening here.”

Even if Jimin does have a point, says a voice in your head. Although you met Jimin in college, the two of you only recently reconnected. You were in the same theatre group back then, overlapping your senior and his freshman year. When you needed a roommate, you posted on the alumni social media page and Jimin responded. Since then, you’ve become close friends – along with Jimin’s boyfriend, Hoseok, one of your favorite people.

Jimin has been watching you withdraw socially for the past year, although much of that, you’d argue, is for a valid reason.

“So, does that mean you’ve changed your mind about the cabin?” Jimin asks, resting his chin on his fist.

“No,” you say through gritted teeth. “It does not.”

“Come on.” Jimin slumps dramatically. “It’ll be so much fun! And a bunch of my friends are single. And hot.” He wiggles both brows. “Now that I’m dating Hoseok, I need to set you up with someone.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitch. Jimin has been trying to get you to join his college friend cabin trip. Although you like his friends, an entire week with them is out of the question. Every single one of them is Type B – seriously, all of them – and if you went, you know you’d be instantly relegated to the ‘mom’ role. Even with the hottest of people, that’s a hard no for you.

Jimin is right there with them, flying through life by the seat of his pants, whereas you plan for all contingencies. Like the time you went backpacking through Europe and all the trains were cancelled due to something mumbled hastily at you in Spanish. It was up to you to solve – something you did within the hour; a story Seokjin likes to tell people at parties.

Of course, the response at Seokjin’s family parties tends to be shock at having taken public transportation in the first place. Seokjin’s family are rich-rich. Like, funded-the-railroads rich. Have-statues-in-historic-downtowns rich. Wear-clothes-that-look-like-Goodwill-but-actually-cost-five-figures rich.

It’s been a long while since Seokjin has said anything in your presence though, since you haven’t joined his rich-people parties in months. In fact, the last time you saw Seokjin was at his birthday party last year.

Wincing at this, you return to Jimin.

Admittedly, he makes some good points. You haven’t dated someone in ages. Your former job took up most of your time, and when you did date, it was friends of co-workers or people you met through work. Since quitting, you’ve taken a step back from the dating pool. As nice as it is to be wined and dined, you haven’t felt the need to take on someone new.

Not with how messy your personal feelings already are.

Mostly, you’ve thrown yourself into the coffee shop and writing. Jimin has encouraged you to branch out and meet new people, but it’s been hard. Especially after everything that happened with Seokjin.

“Maybe,” you sigh, looking up.

Bzzz-zzzz. Your phone jolts on the counter, and you choose to ignore it.

Jimin’s face brightens. “Maybe? Yes! I’ll text the group and have them add you to the chat. They’re going to be so psyched to have another driver, Y/N – you won’t believe how slowly Max goes on the highway, and – okay, who has been texting you?” Jimin glares at your phone when it buzzes again. “That has to be the tenth text in a row.”

“Probably emails,” you say, reaching sideways. “I need to turn notifications off. Ever since that info leak last year, I get so much spam that–”

Unfortunately, the name on the screen stops you, mid-sentence. You do have emails, along with a text from your sister, but it’s the name at the top driving your current state of paralysis.

Seokjin – (1) unread text.

“What?” Jimin attempts to peer over your shoulder. “Who is it?”

“No one,” you blurt, yanking your phone away. “Nothing.”

Hovering over the trash can, you swipe sideways. Seokjin’s text fills the screen.

Seokjin: *emergency emoji* so, I have news… [3:11 PM]

Fear grips your chest, filling you with dread while you await the next text. For months, you’ve anticipated this message. Seokjin has finally proposed, and his girlfriend, Emilia, has accepted. Your best friend – if you can still call him that – is engaged. Fully taken. Off the market.

Of course, if Seokjin were still your best friend, you’d have no doubts regarding his text. You’d be elated, excited by the next stage in his life. You’d be happy for him, happy for Emilia, and eager at the prospect of an over-the-top wedding invite. Emilia’s family is as rich as Seokjin’s, after all.

Instead, you find yourself feeling – well. Not happy.

In an attempt at distraction, you read your sister’s text about what to get your mom for Mother’s Day. The two of you have combined gifts for years, but the burden usually falls on you. Something about your mom’s latest boyfriend rubs your sister the wrong way.

Another text flashes on top of your screen.

Seokjin: Emilia and I broke up [3:13 PM]

Your eyes widen.

Dimly, you realize this is a terrible way to receive information, but your fingers are already moving. Returning to Seokjin, you see he’s still typing. His ellipses pause, then start, then pause again. At last, a new message comes through.

Seokjin: well, we broke up a while ago but guess what haha [3:15 PM]

Seokjin: now she’s dating Jaesuk [3:15 PM]

Before you can recognize the foolishness of doing so, you gasp. Jimin thrusts himself over the top of the screen, blonde hair falling forward as he tries to read.

“Y/N,” he whines. “Come on! Tell me what’s happening – did Tom and Zendaya break up? Get engaged? Break up, then get engaged?”

Dazed, you shake your head. “It’s uh, Seokjin.”

Jimin pauses. “Seokjin?” Glancing upward, his brows furrow. “Your friend, Seokjin? The one who’s… you know,” he says, miming something with one hand.

“… sexually active?”

“No.” Jimin huffs. “Loaded! That was me, swiping my black card.”

“Oh. That was unclear. But yeah, Seokjin’s family is well-off.”

Jimin whistles and looks at the ceiling. “Well-off. That’s what the uber-rich say to make it sound like they’re still in touch with reality. This guy must be dripping money.”

You have no response to this, since Jimin isn’t wrong. Although Seokjin himself is an untenured professor, there’s no way he could afford his current apartment without his inheritance. No way he could have completed his PhD in four years without the luxury of not having to work. Not to mention he teaches at a university with one of the largest endowments in the country and a building donated by his great-grandfather.

Because Jimin is a more recent friend, he’s never met Seokjin. Seokjin and you didn’t go to college together – he attended the same university he teaches for now. Jimin knows who Seokjin is, though. Hard to be friends with you and not know who he is.

As the second Kim son, Seokjin escaped the gargantuan task of inheriting the family business. Mostly, Seokjin’s parents leave him alone to do what he wants. Jaesuk, Seokjin’s older brother, wasn’t as lucky.

Which takes you back to the text. Emilia is dating Jaesuk.

“Anyways,” you say. “Seokjin texted me something surprising. That’s all.”

Jimin clasps both hands together. “Oh?”

You feel your face heat. “Not like that, you idiot. He has a girlfriend. Or – well, he had a girlfriend. He just texted me that they ended things.”

“And?”

“And…” Against your better judgement, the words rush out, “Now, his ex-girlfriend is dating Seokjin’s older brother.”

“WHAT,” Jimin yells at the unfortunate moment a new customer enters.

Both your heads jerk sideways. Before Jimin can recover, you scoop up your phone and dart towards the back. “Gotta go,” you blurt in a split-second decision. “Can you greet that customer? I’m due for my break. Thanks, Jimin!” you call, pushing through the staff door.

Through the frosted window, you see Jimin fume, then paste on his best customer service smile. Exhaling lowly, you lock the door and collapse at the small, wooden table.

Your heart pounds in the silence, unnaturally loud. Placing your phone on the table, you stare at the wallpaper – a photo of the city skyline you took last fall. Before that it was a photo of you and Seokjin. Your screensaver has always been you and Seokjin, something you never questioned until last year. Last summer, to be precise.

“Get ahold of yourself,” you mutter.

Taking a deep breath, your fingers hover over his name. You press call before you can second-guess yourself, Seokjin’s name filling the screen. He answers almost immediately.

“Hello?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Seokjin sounds out of breath, deeper than you remember. How unfair would it be for him to experience a second puberty burst. The first was torture enough for you as a teenager. Overnight, Seokjin transformed from your nerdy best friend to a soft-spoken, hilarious man the entire school wanted.

“… Y/N?”

Opening your eyes, you scoop up your phone and take it off speaker. “Oh, hey – yeah, it’s me.”

He chuckles. “I figured when I saw your name calling.”

“You never know.” Aimless, you pick at the lint of your apron. “Maybe I was in a tragic accident, and someone found my phone at the scene of the crime.”

“Does that mean I’m your emergency contact, Y/N? I’m touched.”

Your cheeks heat since yes, you’re not sure you ever changed that. What you say though, is, “Don’t get cocky. I have all my phone contacts listed as emergency contacts. I like to hedge my bets.”

He laughs, louder this time. “Hey, no judgement here. Pretty sure you’re still mine.”

Your fingers still on your apron. You shouldn’t be his contact – not after everything. Harshly, you stamp out the hope rising within you. Seokjin’s lack of foresight and planning shouldn’t be taken as anything but just that.

“Right.” You pause. “Sorry – is this a bad time? I should have texted back, but I’m at work, and thought it’d be easier to call…”

“You’re at work? Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“I’m on a break, don’t worry about it.”

 A long pause. At last, Seokjin sighs and the knot in your chest tightens. You can count on one hand the number of times you’ve seen him upset. Once when your parents were getting divorced, and you ignored his texts for a week. Another, when he and his college girlfriend, Lisa, broke up. Another when his mom was diagnosed with breast cancer (currently in remission). And then again, when your ex cheated on you with your supposed best friend senior year. Seokjin drove across state lines all night to be on your campus by morning.

He sounds upset now, too.

“Yeah.” Seokjin exhales. “You thought this conversation would be better in person, and as always, you were right, Y/N.”

The way he says your name sparks wistful familiarity. It also reminds you of a darkened hallway, whiskey on Seokjin’s breath and – you stop the memory in its tracks.

“What happened?” you press. “I just… damn, Seokjin. The last time I saw you and Emilia, the two of you seemed so, um… so…”

“Coupled?”

“I was going to say nauseating, but yeah.”

Seokjin barks out a laugh. “Way to kick a guy when he’s down, Y/N.”

“Sorry,” you say, but your lips twitch. “Although… I don’t mean to be rude, but… you don’t sound down? You sound… surprisingly chipper for a man who was cuckolded.”

The truth of this statement resonates within you. Seokjin sounded tired when he answered, but everything since has felt almost normal. Almost – because the elephant in the room has not gotten smaller.

The last time you spoke face-to-face was December.

“Whoa, whoa – hang on,” he sputters. “Who said anything about cuckolding?”

“Were you not? Le cuckold, as the French say?”

“Wait.” Seokjin sounds amused. “To be clear, which party is the cuckold? The guy who cheats or the guy cheated on? Also – why is there no name for the woman in this scenario?”

“Oh, there are plenty of names for the woman. They’re just not as fun, and heavily drenched in misogyny.”

“Right, right. The patriarchy, etc. – but seriously, Emilia didn’t cheat on me. Or she says she didn’t, and I’m inclined to agree.” He pauses. “I think.”

“You think?”

“I do believe her. But… well, even if she didn’t technically cheat… even if we broke up in December, then waited a respectable period of time and then they started dating – it still feels weird. Like, was she into him the entire time we dated? Was my brother into her?”

“No good answers come from that line of questioning,” you say grimly.

“I know.” Seokjin groans, and you imagine him dragging a hand down his face. “You’re right, but I can’t stop picturing it. And they didn’t.”

“They didn’t what?”

“Wait a respectable amount of time,” he mutters. “Emilia and I broke up in December, and they told me at the end of March they were dating. Meaning they started dating before and only deemed it serious enough to tell me in March.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Hence the thinking.”

“About the timeframe, or the general weirdness?” you prompt.

In the back of your mind, you can't help wondering what made Seokjin reach out. According to what he just said, Seokjin has known about Jaesuk and Emilia since March. Granted, everything about this is strange and it's valid to vent, but you haven't spoken to Seokjin in months. Even before the break-up, it's been ages since you spoke about anything real.

“Both,” he says in response to your question.

“Not… anything else?”

“What else would I be thinking about, Y/N?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you huff, twisting the thread of your apron. “Are you still in love with Emilia? It’s hard to be around an ex normally, but this…” Trailing off, you shake your head.

“What? No. I mean, yeah – it’s not fun to be around them. But no,” Seokjin says, decisive. “I’m not in love with her.”

Your lips tighten, unsure how much to believe. Still, you decide not to push him. Years of experience have taught you that if Seokjin isn’t ready to talk about something, you won’t get a peep out of him. If it were you, though, five months isn’t enough to fall out of love.

“Okay,” is all you say. Glancing at the staff door, you watch Jimin hand the customer their drink. Your break will be over soon, one way or another.

“I’m… actually glad you called me, Y/N.”

The hesitancy in his voice draws you back. “You are?”

“Yeah.” Seokjin clears his throat, a nervous tic. “Jaesuk called me yesterday. You know how my parents’ anniversary is in May?”

“Of course.”

Obviously, you know. Seokjin’s parents are strange for many reasons, not least of which is their genuine love for one another. They are also – you can say this after many years working in consulting – the most normal rich people you’ve ever encountered. Most of their wealth is donated each year, with a small stipend (still an insane amount) granted to each family member.

The weekend of their anniversary is the exception to this rule. Seokjin’s parents go all out, spending an entire week at their lake house, hosting lavish parties which cumulate in the main event. Growing up, you attended as Seokjin’s plus one. This all changed when Seokjin got his first girlfriend, although you still attended a few years later as the date of his sister, Seohyun.

Glancing at the calendar on the wall, you realize their anniversary is coming up. Seokjin’s family will probably leave for their lake house next weekend.

“Yeah.” Seokjin again clears his throat. “So, uh, my brother called and… at first, he and Emilia weren’t going to come. They decided to skip this year because of the obvious.”

“The cuckoldom, yes.”

“I said the obvious,” Seokjin says drily. “But anyways. Well.” He exhales, and you remember again that between you, Seokjin could be called mild-mannered. “Jaesuk wants to know if it would be okay with me if they come together. Emilia’s parents were invited, and they thought it might be weird…”

Your jaw has dropped again. “How would that be weirder than Emilia attending with your brother?”

“I don’t know,” he groans, and from the way his voice muffles, you imagine him laying his head on his desk. Seokjin usually grades papers in the late afternoon.

His apartment is gigantic, a three-story brownstone located in Hyde Park with a view of Lake Michigan. His study (yes, he has a study) always reminded you of the library in Beauty and the Beast. Perhaps a bit smaller, with less fiction on the walls.

Dimly, it registers that Seokjin’s parents invited the Astors. Granted, Emilia’s family runs in the same circle, but the invitation feels odd. Odd – and cruel, to invite Seokjin’s-ex-slash-Jaesuk’s-current girlfriend.

What a mess.

Numbly, you shake your head. “They want you to spend an entire week together? Alone? In the middle of the wilderness?”

“Michigan isn’t exactly Siberia, Y/N.”

“But… you, your brother, and the woman you’ve both slept with – in one house?”

“I probably wouldn’t put it like that, but sure.”

“You… said no, right?”

A long, awkward pause follows.

Your voice rises. “Right?” you demand, gripping the phone tighter.

“No.” Seokjin’s voice muffles once more. “I told them I wasn’t sure, but I’d let them know.”

“Seokjin! You absolutely cannot spend an entire week with them alone.”

“Aha!”

“What?” you ask, blinking at his note of triumph.

“You’re absolutely right. I can’t spend the week with them… alone.”

Your brows furrow. “So… you agree with me?”

“No, Y/N,” Seokjin says. “I can’t spend the week with them alone. But… with someone else…”

A beat passes.

“Are you dating someone new?” you ask. “Is that it? You’re going to subject some poor, unsuspecting person to your Shakespearean family drama?”

“Not a poor, unsuspecting person, no…”

Suspicion slowly dawns. “Seokjin…”

“Yes?”

“You can’t be serious.”

His throat clears. “I was thinking… maybe... you could join.”

The silence stretches between you so long, Seokjin grows concerned. “Y/N?” His voice dims, like he’s checking the call hadn’t dropped. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” you croak. “Physically. Mentally, I think something has broken, because I just heard you ask me something insane.”

“See!” Seokjin blurts. “This is why I need you there. You’re so good at making things less awkward. And my family loves you – their attention would all be on you, and not on how weird and insane my life is.”

Groaning out loud, you sink further into the chair. This is a bad idea. Truly abysmal, but…

You already know you’ll say yes. Saying no to Seokjin has never been an option.

Back in college, you joined his family trips all the time. Back then, your dad wasn’t taking care of himself, your mom had run off with her first new boyfriend, and you had nowhere to go during summer holidays. Frequently, the Kim’s referred to you as their second daughter – but all that was ages ago.

Seokjin didn’t even call when he and Emilia broke up.

“Seokjin,” you sigh. “Why are you asking me this?”

A long pause. “I just told you why.”

“No. I mean… I didn’t even know you were single.” You hesitate, then barrel on. “This is the first time we’ve talked on the phone since – god, I don’t even know. Last year?”

Seokjin’s ensuing silence is damning. An unspoken question hovers between you: Has anything changed since the last time we saw each other?

"I’m… sorry, Y/N." He exhales. "I know… I should have reached out to you sooner. I just… I just couldn’t.”

Your lips purse, watching the door. Your break must be over, but luckily, Jimin has given you space to process. As much as he pretends to be needy, his ability to read the room is remarkable.

“Ugh,” you groan, tipping your head back. Your eyes close. “Let me think about it.”

“Wait – really?” Seokjin blurts. “Thank you, Y/N! You won’t regret this – I swear.”

“I haven’t agreed to it yet!”

“Right, sure. Of course,” he hastens, attempting to sound mollified.

Your lips twitch. “I have to get back to my shift.”

“Yes. Make that money.”

“Eh.”

“Make… minimum wage plus tips?”

“Closer,” you sigh, pushing yourself to stand. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Okay. And Y/N?”

You hover near the door. “Yeah?”

Seokjin pauses. “There are a lot of logical reasons why it’d be great if you came, but honestly?” His voice thickens. “I just… want you there.”

There’s an ache in your chest you wish could say was a stranger. In truth though, the feeling is exactly why you should say no.

You never had a great sense of self-preservation, though. Instead, find yourself saying–

“Yes.”

Honking outside your apartment at 8:00 AM on a Sunday does little to endear Seokjin to Jimin. Standing by the window of your third story walk-up, he holds the curtain back with his pinky finger. Dressed in a green silk dressing gown, Jimin purses his lips.

“Does he really expect to just… honk, and have you fall in line?”

“That’s what we agreed,” you huff, dragging your luggage into the living room. “He said he would be here at 8:00 and I’d meet him outside.”

Jimin’s frown deepens. “He’s blocking the alley. If someone sideswipes him, that’s not my problem.”

You struggle to break free from your purse strap, which seems determined to fight back. “Seokjin isn’t used to driving in the city, give him a break.”

“Oh, he’s not the one driving.”

“What?”

“Someone else is in the car.”

Succeeding in getting your purse to lay flat, you join Jimin at the window. True to his word, a sleek black town car idles at the curb. The only reason someone hasn’t rammed into it yet is due to the early hour. Otherwise, your neighbors wouldn’t be shy about making their displeasure known. Read: petty vandalism.

Pulling the curtain back further, you curse. Seokjin leans against the side of the car, the trunk already popped. Someone else clearly sits in the front seat, which means Seokjin hired a driver.

“That’s just his driver,” you mutter, turning around.

The curtain falls, and Jimin whirls. “So, he is a one percenter.”

You choose to remain silent, dragging your suitcase to the top of the landing. Jimin follows close behind, hair sticking up in several directions.

“He’s also hotter than you led me to believe,” he accuses, following you down the stairs. You continue to ignore him, your suitcase banging each step. “Granted, I only saw him from three stories up, but I can tell. You undersold. Hmm… now, why would you do that, Y/N?”

“You’re dating Hoseok,” you remind him. “And Seokjin is straight.”

He continues, unbroken. “What would be the reason to downplay your best friend’s hotness?”

There’s a teasing note in his voice that says Jimin knows damn well why you’d do such a thing. It’s the same reason you’re going on this trip, and why you continue to reject every guy he sets you up with.

Reaching the front door, you set your bag down. “Okay,” you growl, turning around to poke Jimin in the chest. “You stay inside. This is precisely why I said I’d meet Seokjin at the curb.”

“Because of me?” Jimin clutches his chest, wounded. “Come on, Y/N. I just wanna see the guy you’re so damn in love with that you refuse to go out with any of my super cool friends. Pleaseeee –”

A loud knock makes you jump.

Eyes wide, you hold a silent, one-sided argument with Jimin that he clearly ignores. Exhaling, you spin around and grasp the handle. This is fine. Everything is fine. You can do this; all you need is to stay cool and composed – all this dissolves when you open the door.

Seokjin stands with a hand outstretched, as though about to knock.

Next to you, Jimin inhales. “Whoa,” he mutters close to your ear. “Okay. I get it.”

Seokjin’s gaze flicks to him. “What?”

Slowly, you turn and glare at your roommate.

To his credit, Jimin swiftly recovers. “I get… I mean, got your scone, Y/N! You forgot it upstairs,” he amends, shoving his own half-eaten scone into your empty hand. “I saw it on the kitchen table, so I followed you down.”

“Oh.” Seokjin looks between you. “That was nice of you…”

“Jimin.” Beaming, Jimin shoves past to shake Seokjin’s outstretched hand. “I’m so glad we met. I’ve heard so much about you – Y/N’s best friend, in the flesh. Someone’s going to hit your car if you continue blocking the alley.”

Seokjin doesn’t seem to know what to do with this information, especially not while Jimin vigorously pumps his hand up and down. Deciding this is too much before coffee, you begin to pass Jimin with your bag in tow.

“Oh – here,” Seokjin hastens, breaking away to grab the handle. “I’ve got it. Nice to meet you, man,” he says, glancing at Jimin.

When you start to leave, Jimin contorts himself enough to drop a kiss on your cheek. A moment of what can only be described as negative sexual tension follows, and you stare at him, baffled, before walking away. Jimin winks as you go, the purpose of which you realize when you catch Seokjin watching.

He looks almost… mad?

He also looks insanely good. The benefit of Jimin being chaotic means you had no time to second-guess your greeting. You were so busy trying to contain the conversation, you didn’t worry about what would be appropriate to say during your first meeting in months.

Now, though, you have time to look at him. Seokjin is simultaneously perfectly put together and artfully tousled. His hair is longer than the last time you saw him, piece-y black waves falling over his forehead. The morning is cold enough that he wears a light jacket, a white button-down and slacks freshly pressed underneath.

Great. Seokjin looks hot. There goes all your hope for a painless vacation.

You glance at your suitcase. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Take my bag,” you huff, reaching out.

Innocent, Seokjin yanks it behind him. “It’s the literal least I can do, Y/N. You’re the one doing me a huge favor.”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

Seokjin chuckles when you head for the car, carefully picking your way to the curb. April showers really did bring the May flowers or, in your case, serious flooding that has since subsided but left a mark.

Sliding into the backseat, you glance at your building and spot Jimin in the window, still clad in his dressing gown. He waves enthusiastically at the car and blows another kiss. Scowling up at him, you almost don’t notice when Seokjin slides in.

When the door shuts, you notice – it should be criminal to smell as good as he does. It doesn’t help that you know exactly which Molton Brown body wash Seokjin uses, nor that you were there when he picked the scent in high school.

The two of you became friends in elementary school. Seokjin was seated beside you in class; his parents wanted him to experience 'normal life' and enrolled him in public school. Really, the only thing normal at that school was his friendship with you.

Extracting yourself from your purse, you watch Seokjin lean forward and press a button. “George?” he asks, lowering the partition.

A middle-aged man sits in the driver’s seat. He smiles at you in the rearview mirror, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Yes, Mr. Kim?”

Seokjin winces at the formality. “We’re ready to go. I’d like to –”

BEEEEEEEEEEEP.

A car honks from the alley and, hiding a smile, you slump lower. Seokjin blinks, glancing behind you to spot a car revving its engine.

Sighing resignedly, he faces forward. “Wormhole Coffee, George – thank you.”

George nods, ever the professional while rolling up the partition to move the car forward. You rumble along side streets in silence until you peer at Seokjin.

“So,” you say casually. “A driver?”

His gaze meets yours. “The weather looked bad. I figured it’d be nice to have George drive us out of the city.”

“Just out of the city, huh?”

“Yep.” He nods. “Then we’re on our own. Figured we could hitchhike, or maybe steal someone’s car?”

“Oh, cool. With the way the world’s going, I’d hoped to die young.”

Seokjin’s laugh echoes around you. The sound makes your heart twinge, and you move your gaze to your lap. By the time you reach Wormhole Coffee, your thoughts are muddled. You didn’t expect this to be so awkward and – not for the first time – wonder why Seokjin invited you. He could have asked anyone; a co-worker or college buddy, hell, even a neighbor.

Stepping from the car, you barely reach the door before Seokjin appears. “Hey,” he says, placing a hand on your arm.

You blink downward, and he swiftly removes it.

“I… uh.” Again, he clears his throat. “I hope this weekend doesn’t make things weird for you. You know you don’t have to come if things are… complicated.”

You look at him. “If what things are complicated?”

“If” – aimless, he waves – “you know. Let’s say you and I were dating, and you suddenly went on a trip with your guy friend alone. I might feel weird about it.”

You’re so hung up on Seokjin saying you and I were dating, you nearly miss the important bit. Once that sinks in, you can’t help but grin.

Seokjin frowns. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do you… think Jimin and I are dating?”

Your tone is almost gleeful, and Seokjin’s eyes narrow. “I thought that maybe…”

“We’re not,” you declare, pushing open the door. “But I appreciate the concern. Jimin and I just work together. He’s happily dating someone else.”

“Ah.”

Stopping at the counter, you survey the menu. Ordering one of the spring coffee specials, you move to the end and grab several napkins. Seokjin joins you, waiting patiently until both your orders are called. George is idling at the curb – you have to admit, a personal driver has benefits – and you slide into the backseat with your iced latte procured.

Once the door shuts, Seokjin turns. “I’m sorry. I promised this wouldn’t be awkward, and here I am, being awkward. Thank you… for being here.”

“No problem.”

A loud silence follows, interrupted only by the sound of the car starting. George heads for the highway, and you take a long sip of your coffee.

Despite your exterior, you’re freaking out on the inside. Apparently, you were right to worry because this is going about as terrible as you imagined. Not because of the obvious – you have feelings for your best friend and he’s jealous of his ex – but because somehow, the two of you have nothing to say.

“Seriously.” Seokjin struggles to find his next words. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve been dreading this week. I know I played it cool over the phone–”

“Uh, that was playing it cool?”

“–but actually,” he continues, as though you haven’t spoken, “I’ve been panicking.”

Another twinge when you realize you were right. Seokjin claimed he was over Emilia, but there’s no way he could be. If it were, he wouldn’t need you to be here. He wouldn’t be dreading this interaction if he had moved on.

Of course, Seokjin isn’t over her. They’ve barely been broken up for six months. You’ve waited longer to get a new pet.

“Well, sure,” you say, softening as you face him. “That makes sense. Anyone would be freaked out by the prospect of spending an entire week with their ex. Doubly so, if said ex was now dating their sibling.”

Seokjin pulls a face. “And that’s not even the worst part.”

“… did they kill someone, too?”

“Okay, fine – that is the worst part, but it sucks how weird everyone else is being. How nice,” he elaborates, catching your look. “My parents tiptoe around me, not knowing how to act. Jaesuk is practically self-flagellating, and Emilia is ignoring me, because –”

“Hang on – how is Jaesuk self-flagellating?”

Seokjin exhales and sinks lower. “Jaesuk has apologized to me so many times, he’s going to leave permanent knee indents on my floor. He keeps randomly texting me, offering to buy stuff, which is just plain insulting.”

“You know who isn’t insulted by expensive gifts? Me.” You jab a thumb at your chest. “Tell Jaesuk if he wants to make things up to you, he should make things up to me.”

Rather than laugh at your joke, Seokjin’s face flushes. You tilt your head, unsure where you went wrong until he dispels the tension with a soft chuckle. Eyes narrowed, you study him. Strange.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. “Anyways, since I said you were coming, things have been almost normal. Now, at least my parents are fixated on you and not whether they should console their broken-hearted son” – he points to himself, mimicking your gesture from earlier – “or celebrate Jaesuk finding new love.”

“Love?”

“Yeah.” Seokjin grimaces. “He let that one slip last week. I think… there may have been feelings between them for a while, even if they never acted on it.”

He doesn’t sound upset, but you can’t keep your own jaw from clenching. Even if Seokjin has moved on from Emilia (which, again, you doubt), their behavior is inexcusable. Seokjin can be as generous as he wants, but you don’t have to feel the same.

Teeth grinding, you wonder how civil you need to be on this trip.

“Can you stop plotting revenge, Y/N?” Seokjin says mildly. “You know that makes me uncomfortable.”

Reluctant, you unclench your jaw. “Who, me?”

“Please.” Seokjin sips his coffee. “You forget I know you, Y/N. Your face is very… expressive.”

“Okay, you’re one to talk!”

Besides, no matter how expressive you are, Seokjin has still never caught onto your biggest secret over the years. The one Jimin guessed right away – that for years, you’ve been madly in love with your supposed best friend.

The knowledge is sobering enough that you turn towards the window. Last December was simply the accumulation of many years of pining – admittedly, you didn’t realize the severity of your feelings until late last summer.

In your twenties, you would have wondered if this week meant something more than friendship. You would have read between the lines of what Seokjin was saying, and saw meaning in his small gestures. Now, you’ve known him for twenty years, and can say with complete certainty that Seokjin is just a good person. He values friendship highly, as much as romantic relationships, and he values you most of all.

And even though he values you, his feelings for you don’t go beyond platonic. It’s better not to go down that road again – no, the only way you’ll survive this week is to take everything at face value. You pulled away for a reason, and now you’re forced to remember. The only way to leave this intact is to continually remind yourself the two of you are just friends.

“I made a playlist,” you announce, unzipping your purse. “It’s everything that you love – study lo-fi beats, classical music, and whale sounds. You know, because of academia?”

Seokjin sighs deeply but obediently plugs in your phone. The first chords of your chill driving playlist come over the speakers, and you settle in. Seokjin responds by pulling out his phone, brow furrowed as he sends off a text. His job can be demanding at times, especially until he gets tenure.

While Jaesuk was groomed to take over the family company, Seokjin was left to pursue his own dreams. For as long as you’ve known him, Seokjin has been fascinated by the people around him. What makes them tick, why people do things, how we influence one another – his first anthropology course felt like coming home, he said back in college.

Even though his career is what Seokjin wants, it doesn’t come without stress. During your twenties, Seokjin entertained you with many tales of bitter rivals, faux plagiarism, and the insane emails his students send to him before class. Most Friday nights were spent at his place, with Seokjin grading papers while you lay on his couch and drank wine.

Swallowing, you stare out the window. The current situation is your fault, you remind yourself. Maybe if you had been braver earlier, more willing to blow up your sense of security for the unknown… then maybe you wouldn’t be in this same place with Seokjin.

The first time you felt more than friendship was in high school. Seokjin transformed overnight, returning from his fancy summer camp at least six inches taller and broader. Somone (probably his sister) bought him styling products, and even though gelled hair is out of touch now – back in high school? Devastating.

You convinced yourself the feelings meant nothing. Hormones. Puberty. Something temporary and fleeting, not the permanent realization Seokjin was your entire world. That came later.

For a few years, you did a good job at convincing yourself. You dated other people, even seriously – David, your first love. The two of you began dating when you were sixteen and lasted until your first semester of college. When you broke up, you called Seokjin and cried to him on the phone for hours. At some point, you fell asleep and woke up to realize he’d never hung up.

Something soft took root in your chest that day. You meant to confess when you came home for winter break, only to reach his family’s Christmas party and find Seokjin arm in arm with his new girlfriend, Lisa. Gorgeous, thin, rich and the same major as Seokjin – you slunk off that night after being introduced as his friend and found comfort with Seohyun in her parents’ wine cellar.

That was the moment you decided to move on. You couldn’t continue to make decisions around the hope Seokjin would one day see you as more. He was a good friend – the best friend – and you valued that, too. For years, you thought you’d succeeded. You dated casually, buried yourself in your work, and watched as Seokjin did the same.

There was a brief scare when you both moved to Chicago, and you found yourself becoming reacquainted. The Seokjin of your childhood had gone, leaving a man in his place. Eventually though, even that faded, and you convinced yourself friendship was enough. It had to be enough, because Seokjin never hinted at wanting more. If he sometimes sat too close or looked at you too long – well, that was just how Seokjin was.

Until Emilia.

Emilia was the first girlfriend Seokjin had who made sense. She fit in with his friends, was of the same upbringing, had the right social status and worst of all, she was nice. Emilia was cool, effortless, and about a million other things which made her a good match for Seokjin. In a horrible burst of karmic justice you realized that summer you didn’t want Seokjin to find a good match. You wanted him to find you.

The realization humiliated you. You were Seokjin’s best friend – you should have been happy for him. You had had years, decades, to confess your feelings and skipped past all of them. You spent so many years insisting you were fine, that these feelings meant nothing, and everything was a lie.

Seokjin was oblivious. Once you understood your own feelings, you realized you had been hiding this from him for years. It made you well-equipped to handle him with Emilia. Or at least, you thought it would. Seokjin continued inviting you to parties, asking you to hang out with him and Emilia, or join them on couple vacations.

At first, you said yes but brought buffers. Hinge dates, friends of friends, even co-workers – despite numerous distractions, none of them worked. By the end of the summer, you had made moves in your career to be happier. Soon after, you realized you needed to do the same in your personal life.

You began to pull away: taking longer to respond to Seokjin’s texts, making excuses when you were invited out, and cancelling plans at the last minute. All throughout the fall this continued, cumulating in December at Seokjin’s birthday party.

He stopped by your coffee shop in November, catching you in the middle of cleaning the espresso machine. “Promise me you’ll come,” Seokjin insisted, leaning over the counter.

Jimin wasn’t on shift that day, and you struggled to remember what piece to clean next. Frustration rose, trapped behind your teeth – at how to clean the machine, nothing more.

“I’ll try,” you said at last, but avoided his gaze.

Seokjin left soon after. Still, him going out of his way triggered your guilt complex enough that you chose to go. Seokjin barely said hello when you arrived. He had a few drinks. So did you. Emilia always stood near him, chatting in the corner with mutual friends.

At some point, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. For the first time all night, you let your expression drop. Sinking onto the closed toilet seat, you buried your face in your hands and wondered why you had come. You stayed there several minutes, composing yourself enough to exit.

Seokjin waited outside.

Leaning against the wall, his posture seemed stiff. You rarely saw Seokjin angry, but when you did – well, it was hard to stay platonic with that look in his eyes.

“I haven’t seen you all night,” he said, unmoving.

You came to a stop. “It seemed like you were enjoying yourself. I didn’t want to intrude. Happy birthday, though.”

His frown deepened. “Is that all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” Seokjin paused, then refocused. “You look nice.”

Noticing the glassiness in his eyes, you sighed, “You’re drunk.”

“Traditionally, people buy the birthday boy drinks.”

“Gross,” you said, unable to keep from smiling. “Don’t ever call yourself the birthday boy again.”

He chuckled and then – silence. Each passing second thickened between you, until you could scarcely breathe.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Seokjin blurted at last.

You inhaled, not having expected him to be so blunt.

“I’m n–”

“Don’t say you’re not.” Swaying a little, he pushed himself from the wall. “I don’t… please don’t lie to me, Y/N. I can’t take it.”

Startled, you realized he had moved closer. There wasn’t much space between you in the hall. Seokjin seemed to realize this at the same moment you did. His gaze darted once, then twice to your mouth – and stayed.

Your throat dried.

At that very moment, Emilia walked around the corner. Seokjin leapt back as though burned, and you swept into motion, mumbling happy birthday again as you passed. You didn’t stop moving until you were past the bouncer and standing outside. Trembling, you pulled out your phone and ordered a rideshare.

Nothing happened that night. Nothing significant, and yet…

His face remains clear in your mind. Cheeks flushed from drink and anger, his button-down partly undone. You remember how the world stopped, continuing to spin on around you. You had felt that way plenty of times in his presence, but it was the first time you wondered if maybe… Seokjin felt it, too.

It didn’t matter though, because he was dating Emilia. You left the party that night and have barely talked to him since. Not until Seokjin called to invite you to his parents’ lake house.

Resting your forehead against the window, you close your eyes as the memory replays again. At some point, you drift off and the rest of the ride is in silence.

The next thing you know is someone touching your shoulder. Blearily, you crack open an eye and are affronted by Seokjin.

Affronted, since it’s unfair for someone to look this good – except. Frowning, you notice his jaw, tight with tension. Seokjin smooths this quickly, but you notice all the same. Examining him further, you find dark shadows beneath his eyes. Criminal for Seokjin Kim, who uses specially made dermatology products that can’t be bought in a store.

Again, you wonder if there’s something he’s not saying. Emilia being with Jaesuk must be weighing on him.

There’s no time to inquire though, since you look out the window and see you’ve arrived. The Kim family lake house sprawls ahead and to the left. Even after so many years, you find yourself struck by the sight.

A driveway winds through the forest, ending at bluffs overlooking Lake Michigan. The limestone mansion is covered in ivy, lending itself to a storybook appearance. Manicured gardens extend towards the lake, several gardeners at work on flower beds. You remember the first time you came; you refused to exit the car. It seemed impossible that so much beauty could be meant for you.

Pushing this away, you face Seokjin. He fidgets with the end of his seatbelt, causing your own frown to deepen.

“What’s wrong?” you demand.

“Nothing,” Seokjin blurts, only to wince. “Well. There is one thing, but I –”

The front door flies open, and you see Mrs. Kim emerge through the car window. Even through glass, you hear her calling your names.

Giving Seokjin a look, you push open your door. He blanches and unbuckles his seat belt. “Y/N, wait –”

Unfortunately, your door is already open. Mrs. Kim gasps when you step outside, hurrying towards you in what she calls ‘casual’ wear – slacks, a cardigan, and loafers worth more than your rent.

“Y/N,” she cries, throwing both arms around you. “Oh, it’s so good to have you here.”

Returning the hug, you can’t help but smile. Seokjin’s family has always felt like home to you. Your mom got pregnant with you at forty-six, which was a shock to everyone. Your sister is twelve years older, but it always felt like more. She was out of the house by the time you turned seven, leaving you alone with your parents.

Some would say that was the beginning of the end. Your parents got divorced when you were in high school and afterward, everything was different. Your dad is fine now but was a wreck for several years. Seokjin’s parents took you in on the holidays, inviting you along on vacations, and threw you birthday parties. It’s been too long since you saw them – probably last summer.

With a final squeeze, you release Mrs. Kim. “It’s so good to be here,” you say.

Being at the lake with Seokjin and his family brings the same sense of rightness as quitting your job. It feels like the moment at the end of a long day when you finish writing and finally crawl into bed.

Holding you at arm’s length, Mrs. Kim looks you up and down. “In fact, I’m so glad to see you,” she says with a chuckle, “I’ll forgive you for not calling the moment it happened.”

Your mind catches on this. “Oh?”

Seokjin appears at your side. He’s out of breath, and you wonder if he was busy lugging your suitcases inside. Usually, the Kim family has people to help with that. His expression is strange though, stuck between fear and resignation. You wonder if this has something to do with what he wanted to tell you in the car.

Stomach swooping, you wonder if there’s another surprise. Maybe Jaesuk and Emilia are engaged. Or pregnant. Maybe –

“You, too,” Mrs. Kim scolds, pulling Seokjin into a hug. He returns the gesture, looking slightly green. “You should have told us sooner! You know we would have been thrilled.”

Seokjin mumbles something you don’t hear as he takes a step backwards. Now, the wheels in your head are turning, and you begin to suspect you’re missing something important. Some key piece of information to explain why Mrs. Kim is beaming, hands clasped over her chest in near-supplication.

“Sorry,” you say, looking between them. “I feel kind of out of the loop… what should I have told you about earlier?”

Mrs. Kim blinks at you in confusion.

You aren’t looking at her, though. Instead, you find yourself watching Seokjin, who purposely avoids eye contact. After a moment, he seems to reach some internal decision. Taking a deep breath, Seokjin reaches out and takes your hand.

“Y/N,” he says, and then stops.

His mom laughs and claps her hands. “Oh! That was a joke – Y/N, you’re too funny. What am I talking about,” she chuckles, as though you’re all in this together. “Why, the fact that you’re dating, of course!”

Time screeches to a halt. Or it at least lethargizes, slowing to rate beyond human comprehension. You slowly turn to face Seokjin, expecting him to show shock or confusion but find only chagrin.

It takes ages for your gaze to travel to your hand in his. Before you can say or do anything, Seokjin moves closer. Stroking your palm with his thumb, he smiles.

“This is exactly why we didn’t tell anyone,” he says with a forced laugh. “We knew you and dad would freak out, and there’s been enough of that lately.”

Realizing your mouth has fallen open, you manage to shut it. Seokjin has pulled himself together, but you’re not that good an actor. He sounds like he believes what he’s saying, which is insane. Dimly, you think back to his serious texting in the car and his attempt to say something before you got out. All of it ends at the same conclusion.

Seokjin knew this was coming. And he didn’t tell you.

Anger surges, and you grasp it like a lifeline. The emotion distracts you from other, less stable feelings churning within you. Lifting your chin, you force your expression to neutral.

“Yes,” you agree, pinching Seokjin’s wrist and making him jump. “It all happened so fast. I mean, if you can call twenty years fast,” you say in an attempt at a joke.

Mrs. Kim laughs again. “Oh, please. You two are made for each other. We’ve always thought so,” she adds, turning towards the house. “Jaeho, come out here!”

Jaw tight, you lapse into silence. Until you know exactly what Seokjin has said and to whom, it’s best to say nothing. The last thing you want is to hurt Seokjin’s family. Right now, your best bet is to hold it together until you can make an excuse to leave. Maybe there could be an emergency at the coffee shop. A run on – uh, beans? Or milk?

The one thing you do know is you can’t stay. Now that you know the full story, there’s no way you can pretend to date your best friend you’re secretly in love with in front of his ex. Just thinking about it gives you a headache.

Before you can pull Seokjin into the house, the door opens again and two people emerge. All thoughts vanish at the sight of a cream blouse and slacks. Seokjin immediately tenses, and unthinking, you take a step closer.

Emilia Astor is the epitome of old Hollywood. Her hair is shorter than the last time you met, cut in an elegant bob with a slight curl at the ends. Immediately, you feel dowdy in your old jeans and sweater. The way she dresses in all white and doesn’t spill anything continues to be awe-inspiring.

Jaesuk walks at her side, shielding his face from the sun. When they stop before you, he smiles at you and Seokjin.

“Y/N!” Emilia holds out both arms for a hug.

After an awkward pause, you step into the embrace. Half of you expects her to whisper something cutting in your ear, but that wouldn’t be like her. You’d deserve it, though, you realize. Face heating, you break the hug, and you consider how this looks.

Yes, Emilia started dating Seokjin’s brother a few months after she and Seokjin broke up. At the same time though, he (seemingly) asked out his best friend. You. A friendship Emilia knew of and trusted to only be platonic. Shoving your discomfort aside, you glance at Jaesuk.

“Hey, Jaesuk,” you say. “Good to see you, too.”

“Hi, Y/N.” He waves, folding Emilia into his side. “It’s really nice to have you here again.”

A small, relieved knot unwinds in your stomach. Jaesuk, at least, doesn’t seem mad at you. Hopefully that means Emilia is also taking the high road. While Jaesuk and Seokjin weren’t close growing up, they did a lot to improve their relationship during their twenties. You would hate for anything you did (perceived or real) to come between them.

Anything Emilia and Jaesuk did, your brain argues. Even if you were dating Seokjin, that’s nothing compared to the betrayal of his brother in dating his ex.

Thinking this, you take a step closer and place your hand on Seokjin’s chest. He glances down at this, then at you. His expression softens.

“There they are!” Mr. Kim’s voice booms, exiting the hedge maze – yes, the hedge maze –with Seohyun. “Finally, the entire family’s arrived.”

Shoving her phone in her pocket, Seohyun skips past her dad. “Y/N!” she cries, looping both arms around you. “My favorite sibling, at last.”

Jaesuk sighs, and Seokjin complains, “You’re not even related.”

“Obviously.” Seohyun withdraws and gives you a conspiratorial smile. “If we were, your relationship would be disgusting – not to mention, illegal.”

Seokjin sputters, and you can’t help but laugh.

Seohyun is two years younger than Seokjin and has always felt like more of a sister to you than your own. One of the hardest parts of the past year was pulling away from Seokjin knowing it meant losing his family. Even with Seohyun halfway around the world in Seoul, your text thread has never been silent for long.

“I missed you, too,” you admit.

Over her shoulder, you notice Emilia looking slightly downcast. She hides it quickly, but not fast enough. Releasing Seohyun, you end up standing beside your – apparent – boyfriend.

“Should we head inside?” Still beaming, Mrs. Kim looks between you and Seokjin. Still, she allows her husband to guide her towards the door. “It’s much too cold for this time in May.”

Jaesuk nudges Emilia. “Agreed. I’ll make a fire in the living room.”

They both head inside, leaving you standing with Seokjin and Seohyun. When you turn towards your suitcase, you realize it’s already moved. Seokjin has your purse over one shoulder, and he gestures you towards the front door.

Brushing past, you head for the house as your anger rises. Seohyun falls into step alongside you, gleeful, and you realize this may have been the wrong choice.

“So,” she says, whistling loudly. “This was a surprise, huh?”  She waggles her eyebrows at you and her brother.

Rolling his eyes, Seokjin walks alongside you. “Did you think I’d give you a call the next morning, or something?”

You nearly choke when you hear what this implies.

Seohyun gags. “Gross. I so did not need the image of you and my brother hooking up. No offense, Y/N. But you could have called before announcing you were dating in the family group chat.”

Seokjin blanches, and you at last take pity on him. “It was my fault,” you say, putting yourself in between the siblings. “I didn’t want Seokjin to say anything until we were sure what this was. Things have been weird enough with… well.” Aimless, you gesture to where Emilia and Jaesuk have disappeared.

“Oh, yeah.” Seohyun turns grim. “That.”

“Seo,” Seokjin grumbles. “I told you – I’m fine with it.”

“Sure, you’re fine with it. That doesn’t mean I am.”

You laugh, unable to help it. “That’s exactly what I said.”

“See?” Triumphant, Seohyun locks arms. “It’s weird, Seokjin.”

The three of you cross the threshold, and for a moment, the nostalgia overwhelms. The black and white checkered tile stretches before you, a double staircase leading to the second and third floors. Above you hangs an antique chandelier, glass and wrought iron reminiscent of lace.

Seohyun breaks towards the kitchen, saying something about a snack before dinner. This leaves Seokjin and you all alone, and the feelings you’ve suppressed come flooding back.

Seokjin lied to you. He planned this. He had so many times to warn you over the past week – in the car ride! – and chose not to.

“Your room,” you snap, refusing to look at him when you walk past. “Now.”

Stopping at the stairs, you remove your shoes and stomp upstairs barefoot. Meekly, Seokjin follows you to the second floor. Muscle memory leads to the north wing, where you and Seokjin used to stay while here with his family. You hover outside his old room, realizing with horror you might be expected to share.

Assuming you decide to stay, that is.

Pushing open the door, you march inside and drop your shoes near the closet. The moment the door shuts, you whirl around.

“Explain,” you demand.

Seokjin hovers over the threshold. “I’m so sorry,” he blurts. “You can leave if you want to.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ll figure something out. Make up some excuse – I promise.”

Dizzily, you shake your head. “That’s not an explanation, Seokjin. Why does your family think that we’re dating? This wasn’t what you asked me to do,” you add, lowering your voice in case someone walks past.

“It was an accident, I swear.” He shoves a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“You didn’t mean to… what? To tell your family we’re dating?”

“No!” Seokjin blurts, then shakes his head. “That’s not what I told them. It’s… okay.” He stops and exhales. “After we talked last week, I put off telling them for a few days. I’ve been pretty silent in the group chat ever since… well, ever since Emilia and Jaesuk announced they were dating. When I finally got up the nerve, I texted them I was bringing you and went into class.”

Your brows lift. “And?”

“And” – Seokjin groans, collapsing onto the chaise – “things had spiraled by the time I got out. Everyone assumed I was bringing you… as my girlfriend. My mom responded saying how happy this made her, then my dad congratulated us on our ‘budding relationship,’ and my mom added how perfect it was…” Seokjin swallows, looking nauseous. “I had a voicemail from Jaesuk, telling me how relieved he felt. He’d been worried about bringing Emilia around, but with me dating someone, he thought this could work…” Seokjin trails off, burying his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ll fix this.”

It’s a struggle not to react. You tell yourself to stay strong, to hold your ground, but – well, you can’t help it when some of your anger unravels. As well-meaning as Seokjin’s family can be, you understand how it happened.

“Emilia,” Seokjin mumbles into his palms, “texted me saying how happy she was. That she was so glad I wasn’t hurt anymore. She acted like I was so pitiful. And I just… snapped, Y/N.”

“I get it.”

Slowly, he lowers both hands. “You… do?”

“Yeah.”

Seokjin watches you for a long moment. “So… where does this leave us?”

You consider the question, and everything that would follow. On the one hand – Seokjin should have told you. He should have called you the moment his family misunderstood. Or explained on the car ride up.

On the other hand, you’re here now. You saw for yourself how Seokjin isn’t over Emilia. Instead, she came here with Jaesuk and Seokjin is forced to watch them together. Alone.

At last, you exhale and shake your head.

“You should have told me.”

To his credit, Seokjin seems embarrassed. “I know. I should have.” The chaise squeaks when he stands, walking towards you. “Please, Y/N,” he declares, and to your surprise, drops to his knees. “Please, forgive me and fake date me. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll – I’ll do your laundry for a month.”

Eyes wide, you stare down at him. “I have a laundry machine in my unit, Seokjin.”

“Oh.” He considers. “I’ll walk your dog.”

“I don’t have a dog. You know that.”

“You can…” Desperate, he looks around. “You can use this house as a writing retreat! Whenever you want. I promise! All expenses paid, just tell me the dates. I’ll make sure my family clears out.”

This makes you hesitate. While you’ve made steady progress on your novel, it’s been difficult to write in your shared apartment. Jimin doesn’t exactly understand the meaning of personal space, and many a writing session has devolved into a movie marathon.

“Go on,” you say slowly.

Sensing weakness, Seokjin scoots closer. He clasps both hands before him, creating a distracting visual.

“Time to work on your novel,” he intones, his voice low. “Just picture it. This entire place to yourself. The peace and quiet you’ve always wanted but never achieved! Writing paradise! An entire staff at your beck and call. Me, chauffeuring you to and fro, bringing you fresh fruit and –”

“Okay, okay.” Flapping a hand, you gesture for him to stand. “Fine, fine – I’ll do it.”

“Really?” Seokjin bounds to his feet. “Wow, that was easy.”

“To be clear, I would have done it without the lake house.”

His smile vanishes. “What?”

“No take backs,” you say, wagging a finger. “Whenever I want – that’s what you said. I assume that makes it a standing offer? Holidays included?”

“Now, hang on…”

“You’re so generous,” you gush, bending to unzip your suitcase. “Thanks, darling. You do spoil me.”

A beat passes, enough that you look up to find Seokjin staring. Possibly you overdid it with ‘darling.’

Coming to, Seokjin crosses his arms. “Should’ve known you’d take me for all I was worth. You’re merciless, Y/N.”

You blow smoke off an imaginary gun. “We should probably get our story straight, though – right?” you ask, rummaging under your pants. “Like, how did this happen? How long have we been dating? And” – arching a brow, you look upward – “am I really staying in your room this whole week?”

Seokjin frowns, as though this hadn’t crossed his mind. Expression tight, you sit back on your heels. It’s hard not to react to the fact that Seokjin doesn’t want you in his personal space. You would understand if he hadn’t brought this upon himself, but he told his family you were dating, so they’re going to expect you to do dating things.

Rubbing his neck, Seokjin nods. “Yeah. Good point.” He considers, then seems to reach a decision. “How about this: we were hanging out last month, and you confessed that you liked me.”

“I confessed? Hell, no.”

Seokjin blinks. “What? Why?”

“Because! That makes it sound like I was pining for you during your entire relationship and pounced the second you became available.”

Seokjin smirks. “And?”

Incensed, you throw a handful of bras at his head. Seokjin yelps, dodging most of them – except a lacy, black contraption that lands on his shoulder. “Real mature,” he says, delicately removing it. “Anyways. So, we were hanging out last month –”

“When last month?”

“I don’t know!” He throws up his hands. “Pick a weekend. Let’s say I brought you as my date to a faculty function, and… I confessed.” He pauses, then adds, “That makes it sound like I was harboring secret feelings for you the entire length of my relationship.”

“You mean… like your former girlfriend harbored for your brother?”

“Fair point.”

“I still don’t know how you’re okay with all that.”

Seokjin exhales and sits on the bed – avoiding the bra. “I don’t know that I am,” he admits. “Otherwise, I would’ve corrected my family in the group chat – right?”

“Right,” you echo, although something about his tone gives you pause.

He falls back on the mattress. “Right,” he says, speaking to the ceiling. “So, we have the whole ‘how did this happen’ question down. And how long – we’ve been dating for a month. What about the rest?”

“You mean, where am I staying this week?”

Propping himself up on an elbow, Seokjin peers at you down his torso. “I can figure something out if you want. We can move to the joined rooms down the hall. They have a terrible view,” he muses. “But I can say this room had a draft, or something. That way you can go to the other room at night, and –”

“Seokjin. I don’t mind staying here.”

He hesitates. “You don’t?”

“No. I mean, this isn’t the first time we’ve shared a room. Or have you forgotten the backpacking trip?”

A devious smile crosses his face. “How could I forget? Remember when you booked us a room in someone else’s house?”

“That wasn’t my fault!” you insist. “I swear, the listing changed after I booked. Anyways, Rodolfo was very nice.”

“He asked you out twice,” Seokjin says flatly.

“Can you blame him?”

He pauses, then tilts his head. “No.”

Finding yourself in unfamiliar territory, you blink. Then it occurs to you Seokjin is probably flirting with you for practice. That way, it seems genuine in front of his family. Satisfied, you resume pulling things from your suitcase.

“Um, right,” you say. “But that just proves my point. This isn’t the first time we’ve shared a room.”

“Yes, but…” Seokjin waves a hand at the mattress.

Oh. Right – that.

The room, despite its size, has only one bed.  Granted, the bed is King-sized, so there’s enough room for you both, but still. While the two of you have shared a room several times over the years, never a bed.

“Okay.” You frown. “That’s fine – I can sleep on the floor. Or on the couch.”

Seokjin gives you a wry look. “Y/N. I got us into this situation. The least I can do is sleep on the couch.”

“Will you even fit? You’re not as young as you once were.”

“Ouch.” Seokjin huffs a laugh, massaging his chest with one hand. Annoyingly, your gaze follows the motion. “I didn’t realize this week would include personal roasting sessions. Are you trying to tear down my self-confidence, Y/N?”

“As though anything I said could make a dent in that.”

Something about this seems to amuse him, but Seokjin says nothing. Pushing himself to stand, he claps both hands together. “We can figure that out later. For now, we’ve established you’ll stay here. In my room,” he adds.

“Fine,” you say, standing with an armful of clothes. “You may need to grab some more hangers, though. These dresses can’t wrinkle.”

Bowing extravagantly, Seokjin backs away. “Your wish is my command,” he declares, continuing the bit as he enters the hall. “And Y/N?” he adds, straightening.

You look over your shoulder. “Yeah?”

Seokjin watches you seriously, his expression at odds with his usual humor. “Thanks,” he says, quiet.

A shiver goes through you. “You’re welcome.”

He nods and disappears. Left alone with your stuff, you stare at the suitcase, heart pounding. So much for self-preservation. No matter how badly you insist that you’re fine, that your feelings are over, look where you are.

At the Kim family lake house, surrounded by memories and the people who haunt them. A cold sense of foreboding steals over you. With so many secrets to hide, so many years of pushing feelings down, you can’t help the feeling that something will drop.

You can only hope you survive the aftermath.

One thing you did not miss about the Kim’s is their shared love of hiking. Even Seohyun, usually your partner in crime, has changed into athleisurewear so expensive, you don’t know the label. Soon after you and Seokjin unpack, Mrs. Kim suggests a walk to ‘work up an appetite’ before dinner.

Having been on many Kim family vacations, you know a ‘walk’ can mean anything from a paved path to bouldering. Accordingly, you shove your feet into sneakers and tie a sweatshirt around your waist. Your preparation pays off when the family town cars drop you off at a local trail head. Now, you find yourself huffing and puffing up a hill that on paper shouldn’t exist in the Midwest.

“Ugh,” huffs Seohyun, trekking alongside you. “I’ve been so busy with work I’ve barely hiked the past year. Which is dumb, because Seoul is literally in the mountains. I’m so out of shape.”

“Same,” you agree. “Although not because of work – it’s because I hate hiking.”

Seohyun laughs, ponytail bobbing. “I missed having you on these things. Emilia loves hiking,” she adds, lowering her voice. “And working out. She even goes running before breakfast – on purpose! Vile.”

“I mean, so does Seokjin,” you point out.

“Exactly!” Seohyun sounds triumphant. “Seokjin and Emilia are too similar. It’s why they were doomed. You can’t date yourself in a different font, Y/N. It’s boring.”

Curious, you glance over at Seokjin. He hikes beside his mom in the middle, discussing his research and her latest project. You had never considered him and Emilia in that light before. Instead, you thought their similarities were a sign of compatibility. Now that you think about it though, Seokjin never confided in you about their relationship.

While you watch, Seokjin runs a hand through his hair. His face is truly unfair – concrete proof that god has their favorites. No way should one person be that good-looking and able to carry a conversation.

Seohyun groans beside you. “Okay, I take it all back. This might be worse than having to race Emilia up a mountain. You and Seokjin are sickening.”

Gaze jerking forward, you feel your face feat. Ironically, you weren’t even thinking about the faux relationship just now. That was just your expression looking at Seokjin. If it helps to sell this nonsense, you suppose it’s a good thing. So long as Seokjin doesn’t suspect your feelings are true.

You can’t keep your thoughts from drifting towards once this week is over. After you leave the lake house and return to the city – what then? Seokjin will have to tell his family something. Will he tell them you broke up? Either way, it seems like your relationship is about to change, and you aren’t sure if that’s good.

Returning to Seohyun, you force a smile. “Hey, at least you’re not the worst hiker here anymore. Count your blessings.”

Someone beside you chuckles. “You’re definitely not the worst, Y/N,” says Emilia, pulling her backpack around to unzip.

Both you and Seohyun jump. Exchanging a swift glance, you wonder how long Emilia has been within hearing distance. Luckily, you didn’t say anything too bad… you think.

Emilia doesn’t let anything show on her face, taking a large sip of water. “The first time I went hiking with Jaesuk, I sprained my ankle and had to hop all the way to the car.”

Jaesuk catches up on her other side. “Excuse me,” he jokes. “If I remember correctly, I carried you most of the way. You only hopped in the parking lot.”

Emilia blinks at him innocently, and Jaesuk laughs. Seohyun ignores them both, taking a long sip of her water. Taking pity on them, you jump in.

“You still agreed to a hiking date,” you say. “In winter. That makes you automatically better than me, I think.”

Seokjin turns around and hikes backwards. “Y/N’s not wrong,” he calls back. “Remember the first time we went hiking in high school?”

“Oh, that’s right!” Mr. Kim cranes his head around at the front. “Y/N, didn’t I end up taking you to the emergency room?’

Seohyun hoots with laughter and your face burns. “I don’t think it was that–”

“You did! Seokjin insisted,” says Mrs. Kim, smiling at her son. “You said you were fine, Y/N, but Seokjin would have none of it. He pulled up WebMD and read you possible maladies until you gave in.”

Choosing not to respond, you glance at Seokjin. You remember that day very differently. Seokjin was concerned, yes, but he would have done the same for anyone. His reaction had nothing to do with feelings for you, which seems to be what his family is implying.

You aren’t the only one thinking that. Emilia’s gaze darts between Mrs. Kim and Seokjin, a small frown on her face.

“I was fine,” you say, steering the conversation away. “Seokjin overreacted.”

Seokjin slows to hike alongside you. “You had a hairline fracture! You were in that boot for months – remember? You got out of running the mile twice.”

“I was in the boot for a month.”

“They always bickered like this,” says his mom fondly. “We should have realized.”

Seohyun squints your way. “Mm. I always suspected they were more than platonic. Come on – a euro trip? As friends?”

“Seohyun,” Seokjin says, a warning clear in his voice. At the same time, you blurt out, “It was platonic.”

Several heads turn in your direction. Realizing you made a mistake, you backtrack. “I mean,” you hasten, “feelings came… later.”

There’s a long moment of silence until Seohyun nods.

“Anyways.” Jaesuk places his hand on Emilia’s back. “You’re a better hiker than you think, Y/N. You made it up sweat mountain, remember?”

“Don’t remind me,” you groan while Seokjin cackles.

Sweat mountain is an aptly named monstrosity Seokjin convinced you to hike while in college. You thought the name was merely a metaphor, but it was the mountain’s actual name. All you can assume is so many people collapsed from heat stroke mid-trail that they decided to leave the name as a warning.

“Today feels like sweat mountain,” Seohyun gripes. “How much further until the parking lot?”

“You’re being dramatic.” Mrs. Kim hikes past her. “This is only a three-mile walk! The parking lot is just around that curve.”

Like the traitor she is, Seohyun picks up her pace. Admittedly, today is the perfect day for hiking. The temperature is cool enough to avoid sweat, but warm enough your sweatshirt has stayed around your waist. It’s not their fault you abhor physical exercise that doesn’t end with a treat.

As though reading your mind, Seokjin pulls a protein bar from his pocket. “Hungry?”

“I’m fine,” you grumble, but – after a moment – take the bar. “Thanks.”

Seokjin watches you unwrap it and stuff half in your mouth. His lips twitch. “I’m sorry about this, by the way. I did try to offer an out at the house.”

Jaw dropping, you remember too late about the half-chewed protein bar. “Um, excuse me,” you cough, trying to swallow. “What you said was ‘Y/N might be too tired to come.’ What kind of excuse is that?” you demand, turning around to watch him as you hike. “It makes it sound like I hold you back.”

Seokjin’s eyes widen. “They never would have accepted that I was too tired. Mom would’ve said, ‘the fresh air will invigorate you,” he quotes in an uncanny imitation of Mrs. Kim. “As a guest, you have immunity. My mom would’ve allowed it.”

“Well…” You stuff the rest of the bar in your mouth. “Oo sh’o’d’ve said ‘at ‘efore we went ‘own’airs.”

“I didn’t know that we were– Y/N!”

Your sneaker hits a rock, ankle twisting as Seokjin darts forward. For a moment, you flail wildly before collapsing.

“Oof,” you grunt, your palms hitting the dirt. The jolt rattles enough that you wince, pride smarting as much as your hands.

“Y/N.” Seokjin drops to one knee. His hands pat your arms, gentle while checking you over. When you wince, his face darkens. “Are you hurt?”

You admit he plays the caring boyfriend card well. You see why Emilia fell for him in the first place.

“N-no,” you stutter, wishing the earth would swallow you whole.

Luckily, the rest of his family is too far ahead to see. It would have been doubly awful to have Seokjin’s perfect ex bear witness to your humiliation.

Turning your palms over in his, Seokjin slides both hands to your elbows. “Can you stand?” he asks, pulling you up. “Test your weight on your ankle.”

“My ankle is fine,” you grumble, but oblige.

Slowly, you place weight on your leg and although it feels fine, you notice your leggings are ripped. Your knee is bleeding, but otherwise you seem okay. Noticing the blood, Seokjin’s frown deepens.

Shifting to stand before you, he lowers himself again to his knee. “Hop on,” Seokjin says, glancing over his shoulder.

You stare down at him, open-mouthed. “Huh?”

“Hop on.” Seokjin pats his back. “How else are you going to get to the car?”

“With my… feet?”

He scowls. “You’re bleeding, Y/N. And your palms are all scratched up. There’s a first aid kit in the backseat – I can clean you up there.”

Ignoring how your stomach flutters, you gingerly bend and loop both arms around his neck. Seokjin pushes himself upward, gathering your legs and walking forward. Your nose ends up near his neck, breathing his clean, masculine scent.

Lift is unfair. It’s all too easy to imagine this day in different circumstances. To imagine Seokjin taking care of you, being there for you as your boyfriend. Shifting closer, you close your eyes and enjoy the warmth.

The daydream ends when you exit the forest.

Seeing you, Mrs. Kim drops her backpack. “Y/N!” she gasps, rushing forward. “What happened?”

Capping her water bottle, Seohyun seems caught between fear and amusement. “How… we were just talking about hiking accidents!”

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Emilia declares. She disappears around the side of one car.

You stifle the urge to bury your face in Seokjin’s shoulder. “I’m fine,” you say as he comes to a stop. “Really.”

Marching to the trunk of one car, Seokjin turns around to set you on the edge. Kneeling before you, he removes your sneaker and peels your legging upward.

“Here you go.” Emilia appears, a first aid kit in hand.

Seokjin accepts this without comment. Over his shoulder you mouth, thank you, to her. Smiling fleetingly, Emilia retreats to stand beside Jaesuk. Mr. Kim shoos everyone away to give you some privacy.

Removing a water bottle from his backpack, Seokjin pours this over your knee. You hiss and jerk back.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, soothing your calf with his thumb. “This’ll sting.”

“A little late,” you complain, but the barb is half-hearted.

Gripping the edge of the trunk, you watch Seokjin clean your skin with a damp cotton ball. The pain soon dulls, replaced with soft pressure of his hand on your leg. Seokjin bends closer, his breath warm while blowing dirt away from the wound.

Looking upward, Seokjin pauses at whatever he sees on your face. A beat passes, then two, until he withdraws.

“That should be good enough until we get home.”

Dazed, you blink. “Oh. Right. Thanks.”

Seokjin stands, watching you roll down your legging and slip on your sneaker. When you wince, he offers an arm and helps you towards the car. George holds the door open, shutting it behind you to move to the driver’s seat.

Seohyun hooks up her phone, glancing over her shoulder from the passenger seat. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she says miserably. “I feel like I caused this.”

Confused, you buckle your seat belt. “Oh? Did you place a rock directly on the trail behind me?”

“No, but I was going on and on about accidents, and –”

“It wasn’t your fault,” says Seokjin, entering from the other side. He shuts the door. “But if you waste more time sitting here, it will be your fault if Y/N gets gangrene.”

“Okay, now you’re being ridiculous,” you complain. “I’m not even bleeding.”

George places the car into drive and Seohyun rolls her eyes. “Mom was right. Seokjin has always been way too protective for his feelings to be anything but romantic.”

Choosing to stay silent, you look out the window. In its reflection, you catch sight of Seokjin watching you from the next seat. Unbidden, your heart skips a beat.

For a moment, you consider what everyone has been saying. You remember the day you broke your foot in high school. You remember it clearly, because it was the first night you dreamed of Seokjin. Before that, he was just a friend.

After …  

You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he touched you, the way he insisted on getting you help. It was the first step down a long path of falling in love with him.

And a small, tiny voice whispers that maybe – just maybe – his mom and sister have a point. Maybe they saw things that day that went over your head. As soon as you think this though, you dismiss it. Obviously, Mrs. Kim says now it was fate. It’s confirmation bias, since she thinks you and Seokjin are currently dating.

And yet, you continue to watch Seokjin in the window’s reflection. The sting of your knee has receded, but the prospect of him feeling nothing for you is somehow the worse wound.

By dinnertime, it’s a struggle to keep your eyes open. The morning latte was ages ago, and the glass of wine after hiking doesn’t help. Once the last course at dinner clears, you stifle another yawn and Seohyun catches your eye.

“Y/N, will you please go to bed?” she says, dropping her fork. “You’re making me tired.”

Immediately, you straighten. “I’m fine!”

“Mom.” Seokjin politely removes his napkin from his lap. “What are the plans for tonight?”

Mrs. Kim takes a sip of her port. “Nothing, really. I think your dad wanted to watch that new action movie.”

Mr. Kim grunts in agreement.

“The one we saw in theatres last fall?” asks Jaesuk. “That was a good one.”

“I’ve been wanting to watch,” Emilia adds.

Seohyun shrugs. “I guess I can join, too.”

“Great.” Pushing his chair back, Seokjin takes your hand. “Y/N and I are wiped. We’re going to bed.”

“Hey!” Seohyun gasps. “You tricked us.”

“Get some sleep,” calls Mrs. Kim.

Seokjin leads you from the dining room, dropping a kiss to his mom’s hair as he passes. His other hand remains in yours, pulling you through the foyer and up the staircase.

“Was I that obvious?” you ask, sheepish.

Seokjin does a double take at you. “Oh, you mean – was your yawning that obvious? Yes, Y/N. Pretty sure the space station will message any second about the morse code.”

“Message them back and tell them no one watches for free. Not even astronauts.”

“W-ow. You run a tight ship, Y/N.”

“It’s called knowing your self-worth,” you sniff, following him down the hall. “You should try it.”

“I do know my self-worth. If you’d like, we can Google it right now – hey-o!” Seokjin cries, holding up a hand for you to high five.

Ignoring him, you walk into the room. Seokjin chuckles and follows, shutting the door behind you. Holding the vanity, you bend and undo a shoe strap. You’ll never forget the first time you visited – Mrs. Kim asked you to leave your shoes in the hall overnight. You were confused before learning the staff clean their shoes every day so they can wear them to dinner.

Fumbling with the clasp, you kick helplessly and hope the shoe gives up before you do.

“Hang on,” Seokjin sighs. Again, he kneels before you – this is becoming a habit. “Put your foot on my knee.”

You stare as though he’s grown a second head. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you take off your shoes. I thought that was obvious.” He pats his thigh. “Put your foot here.”

Unable to summon the energy to fight, you lift your foot. If Seokjin is surprised by your obedience, he does a good job of hiding it. Bending, he delicately undoes the clasp of your shoe. Dark hair falls in his face while he works.

Seokjin hesitates, one hand on your ankle. He looks up. “I really am sorry about all of this, Y/N.”

Your heart thumps, and it takes a second longer for your brain to catch up.

His lips twist. “First, I lied to you. Then, I asked you to lie to my family. And now… you’re hurt because of me.” He looks down. “This was an awful idea, and I’m just… sorry, Y/N. Say the word and I’ll drive you home. I’ll explain everything to my family. No matter how awkward.”

“Hey,” you murmur. Reaching down, you pull Seokjin upward to stand.

Seokjin towers over you, looking slightly pathetic.

“It’s okay,” you say gently. “Really. Am I thrilled by some of your choices? No. Definitely not. But do I understand?” Slowly, you exhale. “Yeah. I unfortunately do.”

He seems to war with something internally but nods. “That’s because you’re a saint.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Seokjin chuckles, and you smile. “Besides,” you say, holding up both palms. “I’m fine. Barely a scratch from earlier – see?”

Taking your hand, he studies your palm longer than medically necessary. “So…” He looks at you. “What does this mean, Y/N? Are you saying you’ll stay the week, or…?”

“Will I stay here and pretend that we’re dating? Sure.”

Seokjin groans and tips his head back. “God. That sounds so sad.”

Laughing, you take a step closer. Reaching for him, you slide both hands into his hair and lower his face. His lashes flutter, staring down at you.

“Don’t worry,” you say quietly. “I could never think less of you, Seokjin Kim.”

His throat works as he swallows. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”

“No – I really don’t.”

Dropping your hands, you step backwards. Shakily, you inhale and try to forget the feeling of his skin beneath your palms.

“So,” you say. “We have a full week of couple activities ahead.”

Seokjin nods, and you fall into the rhythm of unpacking. Moving around the room, you ask what he’s been up to lately and let Seokjin chatter about work. The events of today crash over you without warning, leaving you emotionally and physically drained.

This is probably why you accept so fast when he offers to take the couch. Grabbing your pajamas, you lock yourself in the bathroom to wash your face. When you emerge, you all but leap into the giant bed.

Seokjin disappears into the bathroom soon after, and you struggle to stay awake. Sometime after the shower starts though, you drift off, falling asleep before he can return.

A cacophony greets you the next morning. People call the city noisy, but those sounds you’re used to. What you’re not used to is the sound of two birds having a full-blown tiff outside your window. In response, you roll over and stick your head beneath a pillow.

Easy to do since you have the bed to yourself. Realizing this, you slowly peer out from under the pillow at the couch.

Empty.

Unease pricks your stomach. Seokjin did sleep here last night – didn’t he? As soon as you think this, you notice the mussed blanket and pillow. Okay, so he slept here at some point, even if he’s gone now.

Rolling onto your back, you unplug your phone from the wall. 8:04 AM. After ten minutes of scrolling, you manage to push yourself into a seated position. Eventually, nature calls loud enough that you roll from bed. With face washed and teeth brushed, you feel marginally ready to start the day.

The couch is still empty. Frowning, you walk towards the window and pull back the curtain. Seokjin could have gone on a run – or maybe, chimes a little voice in your head, he realized how silly this is and went to tell everyone the truth. Maybe he went to confess his feelings to Emilia. Maybe Jaesuk and Seokjin went to go duel before dawn.

Releasing the curtain, you head for the shower. This is why you don’t talk to people before coffee. Stepping under the spray, you tilt your head and let hot water sluice down your back. Despite your best efforts, the shower unfortunately proves a great place to overthink.

Again and again, you rehash the events of yesterday. The look on Seokjin’s face when his mom said you were dating. Hise expression asking you to stay. The way he looked while dabbing your knee with a cotton ball. For so long, you’ve survived by shoving your feelings aside. It’s been a long time since you considered what Seokjin felt for you.

Twenty years of history point you towards nothing. But then, you’ve had feelings for him just as long and never told him. Sighing, you finish washing and step from the shower. The safest course of action is to do nothing and yet, the thought leaves an itch in your brain.

Again, you remind yourself, all you can do is take his words at face value. Seokjin asked you to be his fake girlfriend, not his real one. That’s all this is. Anything more leads to a slippery slope you might not return from.

Wiping steam from the mirror, you realize you left your clothes in the other room. Wrapping a towel around your torso, you crack open the door.

Holy fuck.

Seokjin has returned. Well, that much is obvious because he’s standing in the middle of the room dressed in navy sweats and… nothing else.

Mouth dry, you watch him bop along to a song on his ear pods. You try – and fail – not to gape at the way his shoulders narrow to the sharp v of his waist. The last guy you hooked up with was a definite gym rat, full of muscles made mainly for show. Seokjin is hot without trying. His biceps flex when he grabs a t-shirt, frowning into the mirror – and meeting your gaze.

“Ahh!” Seokjin yells, the t-shirt whipping away as he turns.

“Ahh!” you return, stumbling backwards. Clutching your towel, you nearly trip over a different t-shirt lying on the floor.

Seokjin braces himself on the wardrobe. “WHAT ARE – hang on, shit,” he swears, yanking out his air pods. “You’re, uh – Y/N. You’re here?”

“Yep,” you say, your voice way too high. “I was in the shower,” you add, jerking a thumb over your shoulder.

Seokjin follows the gesture, only to snag on your body. Too late you remember you’re in only a towel. Before now, this fact seems to have eluded him. Seokjin openly stares, not bothering to hide his appraisal. Heat trails each place his gaze lingers until the bird argument outside resumes – this time, at twice the volume.

The spell breaks. “Sorry,” you blurt, rushing to grab your clothes. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I – I wasn’t. I was on a run.”

“Okay,” you squeak, edging around him. Slamming the door shut, you collapse against it. “Fuck,” you hiss.

On the other side, you hear Seokjin utter the same. Eyes wide, you turn your head to stare at the wood.

Coincidence. Or he was swearing because of how awkward that was, not because he was also struck dumb by the sight of you mostly naked. Right?

Your head hits the door with a thunk. You should have taken Seokjin up on his offer to drive you home yesterday. Not even one day has passed and you’re already overthinking this. Worse, you can’t stop rehashing the events of last year. Seokjin never answered your question about why he hasn’t reached out to you since December.

Suddenly, you still as realization dawns. Seokjin and Emilia broke up in December. You know they were still together on his birthday, which means they broke up after.

What if… Emilia saw you in that hallway? What if she broke up with Seokjin because she suspected something between you? That would make her the victim. Granted, she didn’t have to go and date Seokjin’s brother, but it would explain her discomfort around you. It would explain why she seems to flinch at every mention of your shared past with Seokjin.

If that’s true, then it means their breakup was partly your fault. Of course, you know this wouldn’t be your fault alone. If their relationship had been solid, it could have withstood a moment of jealousy. Still, the thought lingers as you get dressed, entering the bedroom to find Seokjin has gone.

You continue to think about this during breakfast, watching the way Emilia interacts with the rest. By the end of the meal, you’ve learned nothing certain. If anything, you find yourself reaching the conclusion that whatever the truth is, it doesn’t matter. Not when what’s done is done.

Seokjin and Emilia are no longer dating. Now, she’s with Jaesuk. And you’re here to provide Seokjin platonic support.

Nothing about this has changed, so you need to concentrate on the task at hand. Something you can do, even if the cost is one you pay in your own heartache.

Mrs. Kim passes out individual itineraries after breakfast, resulting in a swift wave of nostalgia. Your own family would fit in well with Jimin’s friends, planning everything the day of and flying by the seat of their pants. Kim family vacations were a dream come true for you growing up, since Mr. and Mrs. Kim always had things under control.

Mr. Kim may have been the one born into money, but Mrs. Kim is no shrinking violet. Her mother raised her by herself; Mrs. Kim finished law school while working odd jobs, eventually rising to the rank of Chief Legal Officer at the Kim Corporation. It was something of a scandal when she announced she and Mr. Kim had wed, and she would be transitioning to the non-profit sector. One time at dinner, she confided in you with a wink this had been her goal from the start.

The entire week is planned down to the minute, with ‘free time’ scheduled for several days. Seokjin stares in dismay at all the events he’s been signed up for until you gently take his paper and fold it in yours.

Today is simple enough: the local farmer’s market, then lunch. Dinner tonight is just family, but tomorrow you’ll be joined by dinner guests. Thursday is a cocktail party, and then Saturday evening is the main event. You notice the Astors listed only for Saturday, which eases some of your tension.

“I’ll drive Y/N and I,” Seokjin says once breakfast is over. Standing, he scoops a pair of keys from the bowl. “We’ll meet the rest of you there.”

Seohyun waves from the coffee pot, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. When Emilia enters with Jaesuk, Seoyun pointedly turns around and brings her coffee to the porch.

Noticing, you can’t help your guilty conscience. “Seohyun seems mad,” you remark to Seokjin as you climb the stairs.

Seokjin glances at the back porch. His lips thin. “Yeah. I think… the situation feels more personal for her. One of her friends dated an ex back in college, and it led to a lot of drama. I don’t think they stayed friends, so she feels bad for me.”

“Oh,” you murmur. You, too, lost a friend during college when she slept with your boyfriend. “I get that. In some ways, losing a friend is harder.”

As you enter the room, Seokjin opens the closet. “I don’t need her pity, though,” he calls from inside. “I’m fine with the situation. And besides, it’s not the same.”

“Is it not?”

“No!”

Wisely choosing to stay silent on the matter, you sit on the sofa and wait for him to change. Seokjin appears a moment later in a cream shirt and slacks, a jean jacket in hand. Well, fuck you, too, then.

Seokjin pauses, squinting at himself in the mirror. “It’s not,” he continues. “Seohyun was still in love with her ex. I’m not.”

Your brows shoot upward. “Oh, no? This whooole situation” – you wave a hand – “would beg to differ.”

Seokjin meets your gaze in the mirror. “It’s not the same. I don’t… think Emilia and I were ever really in love.”

You take a moment to digest this. “Okay, now you’re being ridiculous.”

His expression tightens. “Do you really think someone in love with me could have fallen so fast for Jaesuk? Do you think I could have–” Abruptly, he cuts himself off.

Curious, you stare, but he doesn’t continue. Searching for a way to prod without being obvious, you inhale and a door slams downstairs.

“Y/N! Seokjin!” Jaesuk calls up. “We’re heading out!”

Jolted into motion, Seokjin pulls on his coat. “Coming!” he calls. To you, he murmurs, “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

Mind reeling, you follow him down the stairs. You didn’t imagine it, did you – the way Seokjin seemed on the verge of saying something important?

And what about the other thing he just said – that he never loved Emilia? Frustration chokes the many emotions roiling within you. That was the only thing about this week which made sense. If Seokjin still was in love with Emilia, it would make sense why you’re here. It would make sense why he said nothing when his family assumed you were dating.

It would not make sense if he did all those things and is over his ex. If… Seokjin doesn’t love Emilia and never did.

By the time you reach the car, you’ve decided against calling Seokjin out. Instead, you’ve delusionally convinced yourself nothing between you has changed. You agreed to stay this week and pretend to be dating. The why doesn’t matter.

Except – what if it does?

Pushing away the thought, you buckle your seatbelt and realize Seokjin has taken this time to commandeer the stereo. A playlist called Reel Love blares, comprised of songs about love and fishing.

You shoot Seokjin a look, and he bites down on his lip to keep from laughing. For now, you tell yourself it’s enough to have your friend again. Concentrating on this fact, you lean your head to the window and watch the scenery pass.

Rumbling into town, you find yourself in desperate need of some fresh air. Seokjin has the type of presence which grows to fit whatever container he rests in. A gaseous human, if you will. Stepping from the car, you take several breaths to wash away the after-effects of proximity.

Closing the door, you survey the town. Bear’s Nook is sleepy during the edge seasons, dead in the winter, and vibrant in summer, like so many towns along the lakeshore. Right now, it’s starting to wake up, but crowds won’t show up in full force until June.

Only the locals and families like Seokjin’s arrive this time of year. People mosey in and out of the storefronts, although the main farmer’s market is in a warehouse on Main Street. George seems to be sticking around, dropping the rest of the family off in front of the market.

Seohyun shivers in short sleeves, woefully unprepared. “Race you,” she blurts, darting for the entrance.

Shaking her head, Mrs. Kim takes her husband’s arm. The entire group moves down the sidewalk, entering the market in a loose line. Stalls stretch the length of the warehouse full of fruits, vegetables, and all the craft goods you could want.

Seokjin and Mr. Kim drift towards a fishing table, and Seohyun calls her mom over to a produce stand. Despite most of the cooking being done by the staff, Mrs. Kim still enjoys preparing a few dishes each week. You drift past them both, unsure what you’re looking for as you start to wander.

At the end of the next row, your phone buzzes. Fishing it from your purse, you see Jimin’s name. Frowning, you swipe.

Jimin: how long did it take for Seokjin to ask if we were dating [10:20 AM]

Jimin: on a scale of one (first thing he asked) to ten (still hasn’t) [10:21 AM]

Coming to a stop at a candle stand, you text back.

Y/N: You little sneak [10:22 AM]

Y/N: …about a minute in [10:22 AM]

Jimin: HA [10:23 AM]

Jimin: knew it [10:23 AM]

Y/N: You knew what? [10:23 AM]

Jimin: Y/N, please. It’s obvious that man has feelings for you [10:23 AM]

Y/N: Jimin, noooo [10:24 AM]

Y/N: You saw him for ten seconds [10:24 AM]

Y/N: It’s not like that, I promise [10:24 AM]

Y/N: Believe me [10:24 AM]

Jimin: …. [10:25 AM]

Jimin: no [10:25 AM]

You’re frantically typing something to the effect of that’s not how friendship works when you notice someone hovering nearby. Glancing from your phone, you realize Emilia is watching from a coffee stand. Meeting your gaze, she smiles and waves you over.

After a moment’s hesitation, you return your phone to your pocket. Reluctantly joining the line, you pretend to study the coffee board.

“So.” Emilia exhales, glancing sideways. “This is awkward, right?”

Startled, you face her. While Emilia continues to smile, you can see the forced tightness around her eyes.

“Well…” You shrug. “I wasn’t going to call it out, but since you mention it…”

She laughs, the sound bright. When she and Seokjin started dating, you thought her laugh was fake, but no – that’s just how she sounds. You suppose if you had been brought up with a silver spoon in your mouth, you might also laugh like a Disney princess.

Immediately, you deflate. You shouldn’t be mean to her. But then again, the last time you checked, there were no guidelines about how to act with the girlfriend of your fake boyfriend’s brother, who used to date your fake boyfriend.

Seokjin is right. Saying it out loud is just sad.

“Did you… know I met Jaesuk before Seokjin?”

That captures your attention.

You blink. “No. I didn’t know that.”

She nods, lost in thought. “He was a counselor at my summer camp. I was seventeen and Jaesuk was in college, so of course, nothing happened.” A soft laugh. “He barely even noticed my existence.”

“Ah.”

The line moves forward, and you take a small step.

Emilia isn’t done. “We had this moment, though… at the end of the summer. My camp boyfriend broke up with me for Jennie Sarasota. Jaesuk found me crying behind the kayaks and told me I was too good for that idiot. It was the first time a man said that to me,” she says. “My dad is a traditional guy. He’s… well, he’s not very nice.”

Again, the line moves. Stopping closer to the kiosk, you face Emilia fully. “Why are you telling me this?” you ask. “Is this… some kind of explanation for why you cheated on Seokjin?”

Emilia’s eyes widen, and her gaze darts around. People from their world always worry about who might overhear. To be fair, you did just say the quiet part out loud.

“Y/N,” she whispers. “I didn’t cheat on Seokjin. And that’s not what I was trying to tell you.” Her face scrunches. “What I felt for Jaesuk at camp wasn’t real. It was a childish crush on a guy I didn’t know.”

“So…”

“So,” she huffs. “I’m trying to say that when I met Seokjin, I didn’t know he was related to Jaesuk. The last name Kim is pretty common.”

“Mm.” Another person pays, and the line moves again. “And then, once you realized who Jaesuk was…?”

Emilia is silent. Eventually, she exhales. “The first time I met Jaesuk was the night of Seokjin’s birthday party. Do you remember that?”

It feels like a trick question, so you simply nod.

“Yeah,” Emilia murmurs, also lost in thought. “Seokjin had mentioned him before, but Jaesuk was always working or too busy to meet. When he walked through the door, I was stunned. And then… well, I decided to put him from my mind.”

“Mhm.”

Her lips flatten. “It’s true.”

The final person orders and leaves, leaving the two of you. Stepping up to the register, you order your usual iced latte and move to the end. Emilia follows, hitching her Birkin bag up her arm.

“All I’m saying,” she continues, determined, and you fight back an eye roll. “Is that I can understand how it happened. Thinking you felt one way for someone, only to realize you felt another.”

Sharply, you look at her.

Emilia stares back at you, unflinching, and you have to hand it to her, she doesn’t back down. Again, you consider Seokjin’s confession. This is about more than just Emilia dating Jaesuk. Human beings are complicated, and feelings are never clean-cut. Just because Emilia is with Jaesuk and seems happy doesn’t mean she’s enjoying the idea of you dating Seokjin.

Still, any way you respond would be tinged with bitterness, so you merely shrug. “I guess.”

The barista finishes your coffee and places it on the counter. Accepting this, you turn, intending to leave but Emilia stops you again.

“You know,” she says lowly. “I always suspected Seokjin had feelings for you.”

Her words are like being doused in cold water. Protestations rise to your lips like no, he doesn’t and sounds like projection, but you say nothing. Because based on what Emilia knows, she’s correct.

“Even before his birthday,” she says, her grip tight on her coffee. “I knew it was more than just friendship.”

“If you say so.”

“People talk about their friends. But Seokjin never talked about you. Ever. He was so, so careful to keep you separate.”

This does surprise you, but you can’t afford to react.

“I’m not bitter,” she adds, and you know she thinks that's true. “If anything, I think this might be fate. Right?” To her credit, her voice softens. “Jaesuk and I met so long ago, and now we’ve reconnected. Meanwhile, Seokjin has wanted you for so long, and now he finally has you. Maybe… oh, I don’t know. Maybe things had to happen this way for us to be happy.”

By now, you’re practically vibrating with suppressed anger. You hate when people imply that bad things happen for a reason. Sometimes that’s true but oftentimes, it’s an excuse for the speaker to pass on accountability. Whirling around, you step closer and feel a perverse sense of satisfaction when Emilia’s eyes widen.

“No,” you spit out. “I don’t think things had to be this way. I don’t think the fact that Seokjin and I are dating cancels out the fact that you’re now dating his brother. I don’t think any of this absolves you of what – of guilt? Is that what you want?”

Emilia’s face flushes. “No!”

“It doesn’t matter if Seokjin felt something for me. He chose you. He wanted you. Everything you just said is pointless because Seokjin wanted you to be his girlfriend. And you left him for Jaesuk. It’s crappy that you’re blaming the breakup on something he never even said that he wanted!”

Her mouth opens, intending to respond, but you decide you don’t care. Everything you’ve repressed bubbles upward, and you no longer trust yourself to have this conversation without saying something hurtful. Taking a page out of Seohyun’s book, you turn on your heel and push into the crowd.

Either you walk fast enough to lose her, or Emilia doesn’t follow. The crowd breaks after a while and you stop at the last stall, sagging against the counter. It takes several moments for your pulse to steady.

Although you meant what you said, it probably wasn’t the best way to deal with Emilia. A sigh leaves you. While you understand where she’s coming from, her pretending everything is fine isn’t helpful. The events of the past year caused a lot of hurt – you witnessed this firsthand.

Oddly enough though, you feel lighter. Devastating, to realize your therapist is right, and ignoring your emotions doesn’t make them go away. Granted, you didn’t need to explode on Emilia the way that you did. You’ll have to apologize at some point. It was infuriating, though, listening to her go on about how great things are, when you know she’s the reason Seokjin is on edge.

Footsteps sound behind you.

Glancing over your shoulder, you see Seohyun approaching. “Happy my parents’ anniversary,” she sings, shoving a plastic bag into your arms. A colorful, crocheted hat spills out. “I saw this and thought of you. You and your beautiful soul.”

“Don’t you Jesse McCartney me before lunch,” you manage to laugh. Removing the hat, you shove it over your hair. “How does it look? Mesmerizing?”

Seohyun makes a face. “Only a man truly in love would find that appealing.”

As though on cue, Seokjin rounds the corner. The moment he spots you, he does a double take. Walking forward, his grin widens.

“What monstrosity is this?” Seokjin teases. Slipping a hand to either side of your face, he tips your face up to press a kiss to your forehead. “Only you would find something that clashes with literally everything.”

Somewhat stunned, you stare up at him. “I, uh…”

“I bought it for her, asshole,” sighs Seohyun. Watching the two of you, she grins and shakes her head. “What did I say, Y/N?”

Seokjin looks at her, puzzled but – thankfully – before Seohyun can explain, Mrs. Kim appears. “There’s a whole stand of oven mitts,” she says to Seohyun. “We should get a few pairs or–”

Seokjin tugs on your hand. “Come on,” he murmurs. “I want to show you something.”

Wordless, you follow him around the next corner. It hasn’t escaped your notice that his family is no longer around and yet, he still holds your hand. In fact, you’re so busy watching him, you don’t realize where you’re going until Seokjin stops.

“Ta-da!” He gestures at a wooden stall. “What do you think?”

Tearing your gaze away from him, you look at the scene.

“Oh. My. God.”

Seokjin cracks up, watching you take in the garish array of nationalism. Paintings of flags, national monuments, symbolic animals – the stand has it all, entombed in bold colors and patterns. The sight is absolutely horrific, and you’re about to say as much, when a man pops out from behind an easel.

“Are you enjoying that one?” he asks, seeing where you look. “A beauty, right? I tried to encapsulate what I felt while listening to the national anthem.”

“Right,” you croak. Seokjin seems to be holding back tears of laughter. “That’s… that’s what I thought when I saw it. The national anthem, absolutely.”

“I took inspiration from our forefathers.”

“Ah. Well… here’s hoping they don’t ask for it back.”

The artist pauses, then barks out a laugh. “Good one! I’ll have to remember that. Now, all the small paintings are three hundred, the medium ones are a thousand, and this piece” – he directs your attention to a tapestry-sized canvas – “is three thousand. My pride and joy.”

Realizing your mouth has fallen open, you shut it.

By this point, Seokjin has composed himself enough to speak. “I’ve been looking for a piece for my entryway for years,” he muses. “This speaks to me.”

You elbow him – hard – in the ribs, and Seokjin wheezes, but the man doesn’t notice.

“Good eye, sir,” he says eagerly.

When he turns around, you lean sideways. “What are you doing?” you hiss.

“Browsing,” Seokjin whispers back, his eyes alight.

“Are you really going to buy that?”

“Honestly? I’m considering it, just so it doesn’t hang in someone else’s home.”

“Stop,” you whisper-laugh, trying to school your expression. “I feel bad! This man clearly has passion for the arts –”

“And likely, the conservative party.”

“–and he put a lot of time into this!”

Seokjin shrugs. “Define a lot.”

Before you can protest further, the artist returns. Seokjin hems and haws a bit before vowing to come back tomorrow with more money.

“You’re ridiculous,” you groan when he leads you away.

Seokjin wiggles both eyebrows. “Who’s the one dating me?”

You almost correct him but look away at the last moment. “About that,” you say slowly. “Emilia… kind of cornered me earlier. She wanted to talk about us.”

Seokjin stops so abruptly you nearly walk past him. When you realize this and turn, he seems slightly nauseous.

“Did she…” He swallows. “What did she say?”

“She didn’t suspect this was… fake,” you whisper, glancing around – oh god, now you’re doing it. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

Seokjin blinks, his expression inscrutable. “Oh – okay. Right. What did she want to talk about, then?”

The two of you begin walking through the stalls. Sipping your coffee, you take comfort in the familiar rush that it brings.

“She wanted to talk about how… she always thought you had feelings for me.”

“Ah.”

“I kind of went off on her.”

Seokjin looks at you, startled. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” You frown. “She was pissing me off. Going on and on about how it was all ‘meant to be.’ She said that you always liked me, and maybe that’s why things didn’t work out with you two. As though nothing was her fault. I mean, is it so hard to take some accountability? To admit that your actions have hurt people?”

Seokjin says nothing, continuing to walk alongside you. His brow is furrowed though, clearly deep in thought. You turn down an empty row of stalls – the farmer’s market is only half-full, given the season. It grants a semblance of privacy when he clears his throat.

“Y/N…” Seokjin hesitates and then stops. “What if… Emilia wasn’t wrong?”

“About what?”

“About… I don’t know. Did I ever tell you how we broke up?”

“Well, no. You just said that you did.”

Seokjin firmly meets your gaze. “I was the one who ended things.”

Time seems to slow again.

Slowly, the puzzle pieces slot themselves into place. Honestly, you aren’t sure why you didn’t realize sooner. Well, you know why.  When Seokjin called you last week, he sounded upset. He sounded like he was in love with someone. You agreed to this mostly out of pity, assuming she had broken his heart. But if that’s not the case…

“Why?” you blurt.

Seokjin blinks. “Why, what?”

“Why did you break up with her?”

His gaze narrows. “Come on, Y/N,” he says, voice dropping when he takes a step closer. “Don’t you remember December?”

Your body goes still. Of course, you remember. You didn’t think that he did. Or if he did, you assumed it was something Seokjin wanted to ignore. The same way you haven’t talked about any other time you grew close.

Seeing your expression, his lips twist. “I almost kissed you that night in the bar. On my birthday.”

“I… know.”

“And you don’t think that was a red flag for my relationship?”

“We’d both been drinking,” you say, unconvinced. “It was a weird time for me. You were upset, and…”

His laugh is hollow. “That’s what I told myself at first, too. But then… I realized that even if all that was true, it wouldn’t have mattered if I loved her. So, I broke up with Emilia.”

You stare up at him, the events of the night rearranging themselves. You realize you’ve been thinking about that night all wrong. It wasn’t the night Seokjin almost kissed you, but the night he realized he didn’t love Emilia.

Before you can respond, Mr. Kim and Jaesuk walk around the corner. Emilia is right behind them, still sipping her coffee. She doesn’t meet your gaze, browsing the empty stalls instead.

“There you are,” says Jaesuk. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere. Mom wants to head to lunch. Are you ready to go?”

Seokjin watches you for another moment, then nods. Mrs. Kim and Seohyun meet you at the front doors, and Emilia joins them to show Mrs. Kim something. As soon as she does, Seohyun slows her pace to walk alongside you.

Noticing this, your stomach sours. Knowing what you know now, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve been unfair. From Emilia’s perspective, Seokjin broke up with her and immediately asked you out. Sure, the whole Jaesuk thing is still weird, but… possibly things are more complicated than you realized.

Glancing at Seohyun, you poke her in the arm. “Hey.”

She shoves the rest of a donut into her mouth. “If you’re hoping to trade the hat, I’m sorry. No takebacks.”

“No, it’s not that. Listen, you… should ease up on Emilia.”

Seohyun shoots you a look of betrayal. “Not you and Seokjin on my case!”

“This is just from me,” you sigh. “Nothing to do with Seokjin. I just… think this whole situation is awkward and multiple people are at fault. Not just her.”

Seohyun considers. Her gaze flicks to Emilia walking with Jaesuk.

“Well,” she grumbles. “It’s hard not to be mad. She hurt Seokjin. I’m mad at Jaesuk, too,” she adds with a scowl. “He should never have even considered asking her out.”

“Maybe. But then, you should probably also be mad at Seokjin. He’s the one who broke up with Emilia.”

She pauses. “Seokjin broke up with her?”

You nod, your suspicions confirmed. As much as it pains you to admit, Emilia has been classy in this regard. She could have aired Seokjin’s business to gain sympathy but chose to stay silent.

Seohyun thinks for a moment, her face shifting. “To tell you the truth, I never liked Emilia with Seokjin,” she admits.

“Why not?”

“They just didn’t… fit. Too similar, I think. What’s weird though, is that she totally fits with Jaesuk.”

“You should ease up on her,” you repeat.

She rolls her eyes. “Alright, fine, Miss Morality.”

“That’s a terrible superhero name.”

“Oh, yeah? What would you be, then?”

“I know what I’d be,” Seokjin announces while joining your duo. You start, wondering how much he overheard. “Probably something like World Wide Handsome. WWH. Swooping down to save the world with –”

“Hair gel and a mirror?” Seohyun cuts in. “Because that’s what that sounds like.”

The sound of their bickering follows you into the restaurant. Every time you visit Bear’s Nook you eat at the same, cozy restaurant in the middle of downtown. Seohyun chooses the seat beside Emilia to sit in, and you note Emilia’s look of surprise when Seohyun asks her a question.

It’s easy to forget how wealthy Seokjin’s family is. If it weren’t for the lavish lake house and personal driver, today is the type of day you’d have on your own. Today marks the last time you’ll be alone, though. Small dinner parties are planned for tomorrow and Wednesday, followed by the larger cocktail party on Thursday.

Everything has moved so fast, you haven’t even considered what the rest of this week will look like. For all Seokjin’s city life revolves around academia, he’s still a part of his family’s legacy here. Emilia fit into all that – she’s an Astor, after all. You’re a no one, especially without your fancy consulting job.

Before you can spiral any further, Seokjin places a menu before you. “I asked at the front, and they said they’ll still do the pecan pancakes if you want them.”

Your stomach flips. “You… asked about my order?”

“Of course,” Seokjin says, as if it’s the only answer. “I didn’t forget.”

Something about his tone makes you think he means more than your brunch order. You try to refocus on his family but again, a single thought rises to the surface.

Seokjin broke up with Emilia. He broke up with her after he almost kissed you. And now… well now, you wonder if your main rule has been broken. Maybe not everything Seokjin says should be taken at face value.

Maybe there are things you still don’t know about him, after all.

© kpopfanfictrash, 2025. Do not copy or repost without permission.

Author’s Note: thank you for reading so far! Continued in Part 2, here.

[fairlyabookie]

the things you do that got them head over heels (pt. 2)

Part 1 here! feat. second years (I severely underestimated how many second years in the roster, so I'm splitting this up into parts!)

Azul - matching his wavelength

Azul’s mind works fast, and boy, does he work fast. The minute he gets working, no one can break his concentration. Many would question him, adding to the fuel of irritation just as he was about on a streak. Either people were on board or they’d have to get out of the way. One of the other, no one could stop him from going forward with his antics.

You, on the other hand, catch on fast; asking him the right questions, listening thoughtfully to his explanation, and lastly, understanding his intentions. His heart soared as you lay out your thoughts, your opinions, a refreshing perspective against the same old song of doubt and affirmations.

What he really needed from this endeavor was someone who could challenge him and take his opinion into account if they ever became so unkindly to his target audience - besides, he had to be more ethical with how he ran things in business. Commodifying individuals was ugly, but he had to hear them out at least. Once you had finished your train of thought, Azul couldn’t help but send a smile to your direction, already writing down a summary of your explanation on a sheet of paper.

“Thank you, [Reader], I shall consider your proposal.”

Ruggie - food

A simple platter of food, from a home-cooked meal or a to-go meal from Mostro Lounge, was enough to capture Ruggie’s heart - he’d accept with no hesitation, already scarfing it down the minute he saw the item. Sure, he’d have a whole carton of donuts, but nothing beats a delicious meal, one that was nutritiously filling for him, enough to satiate him, for the day, enough to leave a smile on his face.

He’d offer a portion of food for you, as a means of thanking you for the trouble of getting him food. As an extra, he’d even ask how much you paid for the food and the location of the restaurant so he could pay you back. Yet, you choose not to disclose; watching his micro expressions, from devouring the food to enjoying every morsel of it.

You encourage him to eat more, citing more to come in the future. The second year’s ears pull back, his eyes of glassy gray widening in surprise. He makes a protest, yet your fingers seal his lips shut. A smile lingers on your lips, one of sincerity and unfiltered kindness, a gesture that didn’t merit transaction but the generosity of one’s heart.

“Please enjoy your meal, Ruggie. You deserve it.”

Riddle - a ride with the horses

Riddle noticed you weren’t in the best of spirits, citing a poor performance on an alchemy assessment. From just that, the thought of hitting the books one more time tired you out, and Riddle knew just the thing to lift your spirits: a ride with the horses. Of course, he lets you choose your horse, while he went for Vorpal, the very horse he had been riding with since he became a member of the club.

Soon, the two of you embark on your steads in a grand pasture, the roaring wind teasing your hair in bursts as the horse matches their pace with Vorpal. In replacement of stress, exhilaration courses through your being, stress melting away each passing second. You peer over to Riddle, his gaze fixated upon you, sunshine gleaming into eyes of granite, slivers of gray and purple.

A mask of vulnerability, a disarming smile that left your heart thundering against your chest, even louder than the hooves against the pasture. You muster the courtesy to smile back, averting your gaze to your horse, your pounding heart lost in the chaos of galloping.

“This is refreshing, Riddle! No wonder you enjoy this so much!”

Floyd - fit check

Floyd’s phone chimes, a notification badge lighting up his phone. He doesn’t hesitate to unlock his phone, seeing your text message pop up with a picture. Oh, what did Shrimpy wear today, huh? A toothy smirk graces his lips as he sees your profile.

Standing before the mirror with your phone pointed towards your figure, Floyd had to hold back a wolf whistle - for modesty and professionalism, of course. He looks back and forth, and twice again for good measure, before whipping up a response.

Azul would certainly scold him for not doing his job, but Floyd didn’t care: you looked delicious. With just a sweeping glance over the photo, he could tell of the brands you were wearing, the way you appealingly styled your attire, and the way the colors complimented your skin, oh, would he love to steal your outfit for a day. He sends an extra message, one just to make sure you know you looked good.

“Whoa, you really liked it, huh, Floyd?”

[keferon]

Have another

Cause I’m on a roll apparently

———————

Jazz wouldn’t lie when he told Prowl that this was weird to him. His new body was both perfect and terrible. Not that Shockwave and Wheeljack weren’t good at what they do! Just that… it would take some getting used to. The visor, he was nearly 100% certain had been at Prowl’s request though. Something familiar to orient himself with. The rest of him was… Prowl had said it was a ghost of a Polyhexian frame. Some city on Prowl’s home planet.

Well, Polyhexian with doorwings. That had been one of Shockwave’s additions apparently. Jazz… didn’t know how to feel about them quite yet. Walking had been a challenge for a bit as he reacquainted himself with his sense of balance because of them. They were… very sensitive. It made him understand a lot of Prowl’s early interactions with him even more.

“What are you thinking about?”

And apparently, his mech partner (lover?) could read them like they spoke a whole other language.

Jazz lifted his visored gaze away from his hands (servos now, they were called servos). Prowl was watching him, those doorwings of his twitching where they were lifted high behind him. Eager. Cautious. Jazz studied Prowl further, tracing glowing white eyes (optics) over the other’s face. Now that he could properly see Prowl this up-close he could see all the tiny micro-expressions the other gave off. The way his blue eyes (optics you fucker) seemed to cycle and turn while he pondered in something, the way his mouth twitched in a light frown in concern and worry.

Jazz smiled softly. He may not have many positive thoughts on his new body at the moment, but he did have a few. This biggest one being his size. He reached up to cup Prowl’s face with his hands (~servoooos~). He watched as his counterpart melted into the touch, doorwings loosing their tension. Jazz could feel his own spread out a bit behind him, fanning like a halo.

“This body will take some getting used to, but—” Jazz cut himself off as he leaned forward a bit from his spot on Prowl’s desk, placing a gentle kiss on the corner of Prowl’s mouth. “I am more than up for the challenge.”

Prowl’s servos lifted up from where he had bracketed Jazz’s hips on the desk, cradling Jazz close. One servo on the junction of his neck and jaw, the other on his waist. Prowl tipped his head to correct the half kiss that Jazz had given him, pressing forward to full on devour the other. Jazz felt something inside of him purr in glee.

Audibly. Might he add.

It caused him to jump a bit, flinching in Prowl’s hold. The Cybertronian laughed against his mouth as he pulled back from the kiss.

“It’s an engine. It revved due to an emotional and physical response from you,” Prowl explained with a soft smile, tipping their foreheads together.

Jazz offered a small smile of embarrassment as he resettled his hands on Prowl’s chest. He did miss the other’s mech form, but he couldn’t deny that his old form from when they first met was prettier.

“You’ll have to teach me. I only know some cause you told me ‘bout them,” Jazz hummed lightly.

Prowl smirked at him, and the little ball of light in his chest (his spark, thank god he had one) flipped. Prowl pressed forward, tipping Jazz onto the desk so he was on his back, doorwings flared out. Jazz swallowed, feeling his engine rev again in response. Prowl’s smirk seemed to grow a bit, that field of emotions that Prowl described to him growing in joy and wistful possessiveness.

“I plan to. After all, you’re finally the perfect size for everything I dreamed of,” Prowl purred at him, a joyful smile creeping across his face at Jazz’s laugh.

“You’re just ‘appy I’m smaller than you by a bit. So you can drag me out of danger,” Jazz snickered as Prowl leaned down to rest their foreheads together again.

“96%. I’m happy you’re alive. That I have the chance to share eons with you. I’m happy I can court you properly. Humans have such finite lives. I was so afraid I had lost you forever,” Prowl whispered, smile going soft and sad as he cradled Jazz close.

Jazz couldn’t help but echo the bittersweet feeling. He will lose his connection with Earth because of this choice Prowl had made. Jazz wasn’t angry, far from it, but he was sad that there would be a part of him grieving his connection with his home. Jazz lifted his head to place a kiss to Prowl’s red chevron.

“I’m here. Don’t plan on going anywhere, Prowler. You’re all I need,” the human turned Cybertronian whispered, pressing out his EM field to give Prowl that reassurance.

Prowl’s own engine rumbled in peace as he leaned over his desk, just holding Jazz close from where he was sprawled across the furniture. It wasn’t perfect. There were things they’d need to discuss, and issues they would need to resolve, hopefully something a few visits to Ratchet and Wheeljack could help fix. It wasn’t perfect, but it was their’s.

And that was enough.

OH MY FUCKING GOD??? Oh THIS IS SO

OFNFJFOGNFJDBDKDMFFKFDFKFJFJDKKFKFJFJFKFMFMFNFNFKRNRNNFNFNFNFKF

Link to the Previous part

[conniesimsss]

🧚🏻‍♀️ Enchanted Fairies Legacy Challenge🧚🏻‍♀️

Hello enchanted simmers! ^^

This is my VERY FIRST challenge i made for the new upcoming expansion pack Enchanted by Nature!! Its very based on the fairies and the new traits and aspirations The Sims showed on their gameplay trailer!! I've done a few challenges myself from Not so Berry, Whimsy Stories and one of the lastest, Very Veggie challenge, and wanted to finally create one myself and had the idea to do one for the new expansion pack! Hope you enjoy! 💌

🧚🏻‍♀️Enchanted Fairies Legacy Challenge🧚🏻‍♀️

📜 General Guidelines

This is a 10-generation legacy challenge focused on storytelling, traits, careers, aspirations, and elemental-themed fairies. Each generation has its own unique path, with goals tied to personality and legacy development.

⸻

🔒 Standard Rules

1. 💸 No Money Cheats:

• Use money 1800 to start with §1,800 after placing your sim on an empty lot or start a rags to riches (0 money) if preferred.

• No using motherlode, free real estate or any other type of cheats that lead to an ''easier gameplay''

2. 🧬 Gameplay Lifespan:

• Set your game to Normal lifespan

• Aging must stay ON for all Sims

• You may not use Potions of Youth, Ambrosia, or age-reversing cheats unless stated in the generation

3. 👤 One Heir Per Generation:

• Each generation has one designated heir who must complete their gen-specific goals

• You may choose based on storytelling, traits, or birth order

5. 🖇️ Careers & Aspirations Must Be Followed:

• Each heir must complete their assigned aspiration, skill goals, and career path

• You may not change the career or aspiration unless the generation allows it

6. 💘 Romance & Children:

• Heirs may have children naturally or via adoption — whatever fits your story

• You may only control Sims living in the active household

• Other Sims’ lives progress naturally

7. 🔨 Build Style Guidelines:

• Start in a tiny or micro home (until Gen 2 or 3)

• Upgrade as the legacy grows, but keep some fairy-like, enchanted, or nature-based aesthetic throughout

8. 🫧 Lot Traits:

• You may use any lot traits that suit your legacy or gen theme

• Stick to a max of 3 lot traits unless the game changes it automatically

9. 🚫 Avoid Mods or CC That Affect Gameplay Balance:

• This challenge is meant to be played vanilla-friendly

• Visual mods (e.g., CAS enhancements, fairy wings) are optional but not required

• Don’t use mods that remove needs, give free money, or bypass gameplay systems

10. 🏆 Complete All Generation Goals:

• Each heir must complete their unique gen goals, including aspirations, skills, relationships, and lifestyle elements

• You may only move on to the next heir once those goals are completed

⸻

🧚 Optional Rules (For Extra Challenge)

• You may roll a dice to choose heirs for unpredictability

• No cowplant revival, reloading after death, or re-picking traits

• Avoid using influencing baby gender or traits

🌱 Gen 1: Earth Fairy – Root of Legacy

Grounded, nurturing, and calm, the Earth Fairy is the cornerstone of your fairy lineage. They find strength in stillness, nature, gardening and healing. While they may not be the most adventurous, their love builds a strong home.

Traits: Plant Lover, Mystical, Loves Outdoors

Aspirations: Nature Nomad

Career: Naturopath

• Goals:

• Max Gardening & Wellness

• Have a garden with every plant (including rare/magical plants)

• Only use natural remedies (no tech/medicine)

• Must never move from their original tiny enchanted home

🔥 Gen 2: Fire Fairy – Wild Spark

Born from passion and power, the Fire Fairy is fierce, creative, and sometimes volatile. They dream big, love hard, and burn fast. They're driven to perfom, inspire, and leave a trail of stardust behind.

Trait: Disruptive, Hot-Headed, Self-Assured

Aspirations: Stick with Master Actress, or branch into Fairy Story (Discordant)

Career: If Discordant, dabble in Naturopath for “remedy sabotage” or Social Media Star flavoured with fairy dust antics.

• Goals:

• Reach max Acting or Media Production skill

• Have 3 public relationships (2 must end in drama)

• Have a nemesis

• Must throw at least 5 gold-level parties

⸻

🌊 Gen 3: Water Fairy – Flowing Spirit

Intuitive and mysterious, the Water Fairy moves with the tides of emotion. They are poets of the soul, artists of the heart. They feel deeply and often drift between reality and dreams.

Trait: Romantic, Music Lover, Gloomy

Aspirations: Musical Genius or Painter Extraordinaire

Career: Remains Musician or Artist, but can also serve as a Naturopath, crafting emotional-balancing potions for others.

• Goals:

• Max Painting or Singing skill

• Live by the water (build a stilt or island home)

• Keep a journal throughout life

• Have only one soulmate, never remarry if they die/leave

⸻

🌬️ Gen 4: Air Fairy – Free Spirit

Born to roam and dream, the Air Fairy refuses to be tied down. They’re whimsical, eccentric, and live by their own rules. They’re charming and unpredictable like the wind.

Trait: Noncommittal, Goofball, Erratic

Aspiration: Outdoor Enthusiast

Career: Adventurer/Odd Jobs, but Nightlife includes foraging gigs (e.g., apothecary ingredient hunts).

• Goals:

• Move homes at least 4 times

• Collect all insects/crystals

• Max Fitness & Rock Climbing

• Never marry (only have flings)

⸻

🌸 Gen 5: Flower Fairy – Blooming Muse

As the embodiment of spring and new life, the Flower Fairy is enchanting, social, and ever-blooming. They adore color, beauty, and harmony, and seek to bring love and unity wherever they go.

Trait: Romantic, Cheerful and Mystical

Aspiration: Friend of the World; can also pick Elixir Enthusiast to incorporate potion craft into floral magic

Career: Stylist or Event Planner

• Goals:

• Have 10 good friends

• Max Charisma & Floral Arrangement

• Host a wedding for another Sim (with gold rating)

• Always dress in florals or pinks

⸻

⚡ Gen 6: Storm Fairy – Chaotic Force

This fairy is thunder and lightning—tempestuous, misunderstood, and wildly intelligent. Their life is a whirlwind of invention, chaos, and self-discovery. They seek control through technology or magic.

Trait: Disruptive, Genius, Mean

Aspiration: Spellcraft & Sorcery

Career: Engineer/Scientist or Spellcaster

• Goals:

• Create 5 inventions or spells

• Have at least 2 enemies

• Live in a modern tech-heavy enchanted home

• Be abducted by aliens (if possible)

⸻

🌕 Gen 7: Moon Fairy – Nocturnal Oracle

A fairy of dreams, secrets, and visions, the Moon Fairy lives at night, often connected to spirits and the unseen. They walk between realms, guided by intuition and ritual.

Trait: Loner, Cat Lover, Perfectionist

Aspiration: Inner Peace or Paranormal Investigator

Career: Medium or Astronomer; you can now also brew moonlit potions (Naturopath) for spiritual balance.

• Goals:

• Max Meditation or Medium skill

• Have a pet cat familiar

• Live in a gothic cottage or cryptic forest lot

• Only go outside at night

⸻

🌞 Gen 8: Sun Fairy – Golden Flame

Bright, bold, and bursting with warmth, the Sun Fairy is a beacon of joy. They are leaders, visionaries, and community builders. People are drawn to their magnetic glow.

Trait: Ambitious, Outgoing, Foodie

Aspiration: Master Chef or Leader of the Pack

Career: Chef or Politician

• Goals:

• Max Charisma & Cooking

• Throw weekly dinner parties

• Start a club and lead it to full glory

• Donate to charity monthly

⸻

🧚 Gen 9: Trickster Fairy – Mischievous Wisp

Not all fairies are sweet. This generation thrives on mischief and laughter, toeing the line between playful and wicked. They challenge norms, stir trouble, and spark change.

Trait: Kleptomaniac, Insider, Slob

Aspiration: Chief of Mischief

Career: Criminal or Comedian; can also brew trickster potions via Apothecary to amplify pranks or emotional pranks.

• Goals:

• Steal 20+ items

• Prank 10 different Sims

• Have twins by accident (via WooHoo only, no Try for Baby)

• Get caught cheating at least once

⸻

🌈 Gen 10: Prism Fairy – Balance of All

The final fairy is the synthesis of all elements. They were born with fragments of each ancestor’s magic, and must find their own identity while honoring all those before them. Their destiny is to restore harmony to the enchanted world.

Traits: Creative, Ambitious, Child of the Forest

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim; optional to add Fairy Story (Harmonious) for restorative balance.

Career: Mastery across three: Naturopath, Chef, Spellcaster/Engineer—showing full spectrum of your legacy’s harmony between tech, potion, and magic.

• Goals:

• Create a memorial garden for each generation

• Raise a child who inherits traits from 5 or more past gens

• Live off-the-grid in a magical retreat

• Reach max level in 3 aspirations

[lostintransist]

This Bunny Bites Part 10

Check out part 1 here.

CW: None.

Climbing in the back seat with Cara you wink at Kyle from the backseat.

“Loverboy.”

He replies with a dry, “Bunny.”

The glare you send him should set his hair on fire. Unfortunately, your magical girl powers had yet to manifest.

Gaz eyes Cara before adjusting his gaze to driving.

You turn to continue talking to Cara as if Gaz isn’t there. Watching him on the sly you see what piques his interest. Knowing what snags a man’s interest had been a skill you had cultivated since you had moved in with your father and on the daily had to try and learn what you could do to keep yourself safe.

Cara caught you with a particularly funny joke and you’re snorting laugh cuts through the cab of the car. It’s not a demure laugh and never the one you use in front of clients. Before Gaz could comment Cara jumped in.

“Ooh judgey driver you got.” Turning from you to place a hand on the back of his seat Cara ran one long red nail down the back of his shoulder, “Aren’t drivers paid for their discretion?”

“Aren’t former dancers meant to know how to read a room?” Gaz doesn’t look from the road as he tosses back his comment.

Leaning back Cara lets out a hum and folds her arms across her chest. Glancing at you she gives you a wink. You’re sure Gaz saw when he snorted from the front seat.

“I would say he’s an Aquarius, his favorite accessory is a good watch, and he’s a closeted bisexual.”

“How the fuck did you do that!?” Gaz turned to glare at you both once the car rocked to a stop at a light. “What did you tell her?”

“She didn’t tell me anything. One thing you get good at as a woman who works almost exclusively with men who can and will hurt you is reading them. The micro-expressions tell you the truth since a man’s lips never will.”

Gaz and Cara are staring at each other, both trying to prove a point with their eyes. You glance through the front window and point.

“Light’s green.”

Swearing Gaz turns and focuses on driving again. The color is leeching from his knuckles as he settles into a parking spot under a nondescript building. Stepping from the driver’s seat Gaz opens the back door where Cara is sitting. He leans into her space, the angles of his face sharp and angry with the overhead lighting.

“How do you know? How did both of you decide so much about me?”

“The tenseness in your shoulders and the way your eyes watch a microsecond too long at men you find attractive. Your taste in men is super different than your taste in women. I wonder is that normal,” She turns to you. “Is your taste in men the same as your taste in women?”

“Oh absolutely not, my taste in women is far superior to my taste in men.”

“Mmm, I wish I liked women. That one time in college was nice but I kept wishing for the heady scent of semen,” Cara sighed, stretching her legs between Gaz’s in a move to force him to get entirely too close or to back up.

He chooses correctly. Cara in her heels stands eye to eye with Gaz. You miss most of their facial communication as you escape the back seat from your side. They are still face to face when you round the boot of the car.

Lifting one well-manicured brow Cara looked from eye to eye, the subtle challenge of two kinds of power meeting. You let it go for three, four, five seconds even.

“Alright quit the dick measuring, I have to go and try on a million and one outfits and would like to get this over with.”

Cara smirks as Gaz turns to glare at you. Snapping his head back to stare at Cara, even knowing he lost the interaction, he looks ready to snarl at her.

“She’s right loverboy, we have an appointment to make,” Cara coos at him.

Stepping from between him and the car Cara links elbows with you as you both meander to the elevator. Gaz is reaching a particular point of done. You can see it in his posture. Leaning your head onto Cara’s shoulder you speak before Gaz can reach the elevator.

“Go easy on him, I think he’ll need a snack before we head home.”

The bump of Cara’s chin is all the acknowledgment she gives before Gaz joins you in the elevator.

The experience of dress shopping isn’t so different than any other time you have been. The addition of a dedicated assistant with a list from Price is new though. You needed a full wardrobe, including a golf outfit, two pantsuits, a full new set of chic underwear and bra combos (though you fight the assistant about anything with lace, it makes you want to peel your skin off and you will not budge on this point), and at least eight semi-formal dresses and three formal dresses.

Cara helps you in and out of clothes, confirming when a dress or an outfit is a good enough fit or color to step in front of the tri-fold mirror snapping a picture or two of you and Cara. Gaz grows increasingly done in the background of each photo you send to Price. Might as well confirm he is getting his money’s worth.

When the third hour ticks into the fourth everyone is done. Gaz has spent the last twenty minutes arms folded and ankles crossed as he stares at the toe of his boot. Your body is starting to ache from the constant shifting and moving. Keeping your game face on for so long has drained your emotional batteries and it’s dinner time. Cara gets snappy when her blood sugar gets too low.

When the assistant finally confirms you have picked enough of everything John requested you gratefully put on your own clothes again. Flopping down onto the couch next to Gaz you let out a sigh of relief. Cara had popped over to the bathroom as soon as she heard the news that the appointment had been completed.

“Wanna grab a burger after we leave here?”

“No.”

The terse reply is not unexpected, but annoying all the same.

“I’ll buy.”

The only response is a shifting of his eyes to catch you out of one side of his vision.

“Come on Gaz. Price said you guys would be playing bodyguard for me so we both need to get comfortable being together for long periods of time.”

A sigh drops his shoulders.

“I’m normally better on jobs than this,” he admits quietly.

“Normally you don’t have to deal with two women particularly skilled at worming our way under the defenses of men in our vicinity.” You shrug by way of apology. “We don’t always use our powers for good.”

“Powers,” he guffawed, “Makes you sound like some kind of supervillain.”

You’ve got him now. A saccharine smile splits your face.

“I sure do have the dramatic backstory to pull off being a villain,” you waggle your eyebrows at him.

Gaz gives a hint of a smile and shakes his head as he looks back to his feet.

“I won’t say anything by the way.”

This draws his face fully to you, beautiful eyes confused but concerned.

“That you’re bi. I collect secrets to keep me safe, not to hurt other people.”

Cara appears across the store, finished with her bathroom trip.

“Well I guess we’ll see if you keep to that edict then,” Gaz stands and offers you a hand. If you take it as a peace offering instead of an offer of assistance that’s between you and your thoughts.

Driving back home is much more lively. Gaz is drawn into the conversation instead of purposefully being left out. You can see Cara is interested in him. First off he’s gorgeous and she did always have a thing for pretty men. Secondly, he didn’t seem put off by her former work at all, which was a rare thing. The Madonna/Whore complex lived out in so many men when they learned about what you did for work.

Choosing a fast food restaurant to swing through had nearly turned into swings being thrown when you refused to eat at certain places that either didn’t treat their employees right or funded atrocious acts somewhere in the world. Eventually, Cara found a small, family-owned business that served burgers and Gaz worked his way there. So much for the goodwill you had worked on building today.

Laughter picks back up between Cara and Gaz as you snarf down your food, headless of the mess you were making on your face. Slipping into the quiet of listening you are looking forward to resting in your bed as Gaz points the car toward your home. You give your quiet thanks as you step from the car.

Leaning out of the window Gaz gave his parting words.

“Price will be in touch, he has a few more appointments he needs to put you through before your first party.”

“Appointments like what?” You ask cautiously.

“Pampering ones, you will need to look as cared for as any of the ladies at the parties you will be attending.”

Nodding you accept the wisdom in that.

“Will I have an escort for that too?”

“Most likely, you’ll be going to the same salons as most of the ladies you will run into at the events.”

Puffing your cheeks you force the air back and forth as you think.

“I’ll take Ghost or Price but not my brother.”

Gaz lifts a brow, “Not sure that’s your choice.”

“Pretty sure you want Johnny to come home alive right?”

The narrowing of his eyes tells you Gaz doesn’t think you could take your brother in a fight. He might be right but you would inflict some damage before he subdued you.

“Tell Price what I said, and have him call me when he sets the next appointment up,” you offer a two-finger salute, blow a kiss to Cara who has moved to her car, and head up the steps to your flat.

God, you needed a nap.

Part 9 | Part 11

Bunny Masterlist | Masterlist

@leahnicole1219 @notsochillnerd @darling006

[jamespotterlovesreggie]

Bad Idea - A Jegulus micro fic

micro prompt challenge 02/02/25 @taylorswiftmicrofic

It was a nice and sunny day , they were home from Hogwarts for the summer and this one looked a little bit different as Sirius and Regulus now lived with the Potters . They were down at the beach and Sirius had been plotting with Barty to get Regulus in the water.

"This a bad idea Padfoot , I can guarantee this will not end well" James warned his best friend.

" Oh it'll be fine" Sirius replied , not listening to James.

"Okay it's your funeral" James already knew how Regulus would react and he wanted no part of it.

James got into a conversation with Remus when all of a sudden they heard a yell.

"SIRIUS ORION BLACK , I SWEAR TO MERLIN I WILL KILL YOU" Regulus yelled at his brother.

"It was Barty's idea I swear" Sirius was quite obviously nervous now .

"Oh really , Care to explain Bartemius." Regulus said in a low , dangerous tone.

"He's lying , it was all him" Barty was actually telling the truth for once.

Regulus couldn't be sure so he called James over . He knew James wouldn't lie because he loves Regulus so much potentially even more than he loves Sirius.

" Jamie my love , who's idea was it to throw me in the water" Regulus asked sweetly.

" It was Sirius's " James replied than immediately clapped his hand over his mouth when he realised what he said, this earnt him a glare from Sirius .

James was the next one to end up in the water.

[onyxrosess]

You Have a Way With Words

vergil x reader

Hello! First time posting on tumblr, it’s definitely testing my patience- but here I am.

・warnings: n/a

( + cross posted on ao3)

The evening had dragged on, ever so slowly. It was to be expected when waiting for something— someone— time did move so terribly slow. Vergil had been gone most of the day, usually, jobs went fairly quick for him, as he is the strongest half-devil you know, and probably is the strongest half-devil. That being, he’s now been gone since 11:00 am, it’s now, you glanced over at the clock on the wall, 9:48 pm. And you are exhausted. Finding anything to do at the shop was a challenging task, there weren’t any books. Vergil didn’t even keep books, or well very many. You didn’t feel it would be appropriate to read his chosen literature, as it seemed quite personal to him. 

You’ve now retreated to your bed—Vergil’s bed. The neatness of the room was still a little alien to you. Not that it was just clean, there was practically nothing in his room. A dresser, two nightstands, a hook to hang his coat, and his large bed. That was it. Maybe it was instinct, a decorated room was a human trait. Though Vergil’s gotten better about his humanity, it is nowhere near perfect and never will be. You slithered under the comforter, laying on your side. Half of you wanted to tape your eyes open just in case Vergil got home so that you could greet him. The other half wanted nothing more than sleep. And one ended victorious, sleep.

It had only been an hour since you had fallen asleep, the silence of the building was not to be disrupted, especially by Vergil’s light steps. A habit he gained from the hells. However, the bedroom door opened with a prolonged squeak. Vergil’s eyes fell on your sleeping form, though he was not surprised. He had already been listening to your heartbeat from the other side of the door before making his entrance. Vergil momentarily propped up the Yamato against the wall as he methodically hung his coat on the hook attached to the drywall. Now walking over to his bed, which you are claiming one side of. Resting the sword against the nightstand, he sat down on the mattress. His weight made the mattress dip, and you remained unaware of his presence. Vergil’s first thought was how weak , but he was quickly overridden by human reason, reasoning he had been taught, especially by you and Dante. Vergil’s gaze settled on your features, ones he could barely see due to your position facing away from him. His hand, which still had his weathered gloves on, moved to grab a section of your hair, feeling it between his fingertips.

Maybe it was to check if you were real. Not many lowered their guard around him, well, those who knew of his strength. Regular civilians would always have their guard down, they were oblivious. But you who showed him patience granted it didn’t come without its respective frustration, but you still did it. You still trusted him, as stupid of a decision he thought it was at first: to trust blindly. Over time he realized it wasn’t blind, you saw something in Vergil he couldn’t see himself. His ability to be a man, and maybe you two had a different definition of a ‘man’, didn’t stop you from trying. Even when he would be covered in gore and carnage, and no regard for human life, you still saw him . It was buried down so deep there was only a sliver showing. But you knew it was there.

Your body shifted in your slumber, switching to the other side. The hand previously tangled in your hair quickly retreated, he observed your micro-movements. How your chest rose and fell slightly, your lips slightly parted. The dim lighting didn’t allow for many details of your face to show, but Vergil’s eyes saw you perfectly clear, thank you demon genetics. Vergil slipped his boots off before sitting up against a pillow on his bed, though you did slowly awaken. You didn’t see him at first, but you smelt him, it was nothing bad, it was just him. Something you had grown very accustomed to. His once cold blue eyes turned warm, at least that's what his gaze felt like on your skin. Vergil’s hands sat idly in his lap, “I apologize if I woke you.” You shook your head and pulled your body closer to him, “I don’t mind, I wanted to see you anyway.” Vergil didn’t respond, your head laid on the pillow next to where he sat. His eyes trained on your face and you couldn’t help but do the same. Admiring his sharp features, his eyebrows were more relaxed, and the shadow that they usually cast over his eyes was lightened. 

Vergil wasn’t extremely well versed in affection, barely versed at all. You settled for the small touches he gave you in private, it never extended beyond. You would usually wake up alone or Vergil faced away from you on the other side of the mattress. Though the man was very possessive, he rarely touched you. As if you were made of glass and the smallest thing could send you shattering. Regardless if you fought alongside him or he simply observed you, he would still treat you so carefully. Fighting your inner turmoil, you shifted your weight closer to him. Moving ever so carefully, lifting your head to lay on his thigh. Your actions were immediately met with his muscles tensing, yet again, he remained silent.

You didn’t dare move to look at his expression, admittedly feeling nervous, though if Vergil was not comfortable, he would have no problem voicing that. A few long seconds later, the muscles of his thigh slowly relaxed under your head, and you released a small breath that had been held captive in your lungs. Then minutes passed, and Vergil remained still, but calm, or so you hoped from the few clues you could gather together from your current position. Your eyes began to close shut once again, without your permission of course. 

A slow hand came to your hair, pushing the pieces back behind your ear. You couldn’t help but crane your neck up a little to maybe get a glimpse of Vergil’s face. His expression was blank as ever, till he caught your eyes. His lips twitched into a tiny smile, that was reward enough.  “What took you so long to get home?” You questioned, your neck still in an awkward position to see him. “I had an errand to run before returning home.” You hummed, he was being vague. Your heart told you he was being truthful, but your head said there was something else- no matter. He would tell you, or at least that's what you told yourself.

Resting your head back down comfortably on his lap, you pondered what his ‘errand’ was. He didn’t need to buy anything, he had food here and he wasn’t very materialistic. Maybe he was seeing someone . The thought made your chest burn, trying to put out the flames you tried to think rationally. Vergil and yourself were not officially dating, you know he cares about you. But the situation is so unique you don’t know if proper dating applies to him. But then again maybe he just needed to get off, he was human after all..well part human. The water you tried to pour on your fiery thoughts was not enough, and the heat from the raging flames morphed into jealousy. Was he with someone else? The thought of Vergil sharing the tender moments you have with him made you boil. 

Maybe Vergil heard your heart begin to beat faster, or maybe it's a demon’s 6th sense. One of his hands laid idly on your back, and you were quickly pulled out of the burning house that was your mind. “What's on your mind?” Vergil broke the silence of the room, you bit your tongue. You could not bear to admit jealousy over an imaginary woman you created in your head, it was ridiculous.  “Nothing, it’s stupid.” You turned your head farther away from his gaze,  “If it was nothing, you would not call it ‘stupid’” Vergil tested you, why must he be so nosey ?  You groaned, lifting a hand to cover your face.  “I’m…I’m just thinking too much, it’s fine.”

That answer was not sufficient enough for Vergil. His hand pried yours away from your face, though it wasn’t much of a struggle for him. He tilted your head with his hand towards his face, he was staring at you, and a couple of his white strands of hair fell out of their place.

“Tell me.” Vergil demanded, he wouldn’t just let it go. “I… I just was…” Jealous wasn’t the right word, what were you jealous of? Vergil was not exclusive to you.  “wondering what your ‘errand’ was, and… I thought you might’ve been with someone else.” Vergil’s expression was back to normal, a deep shadow cast over his eyes, his brows knitted together.  “I could tell you, but I’d prefer not to.”  Now you were fucking confused, what does that mean?  “If it would put your mind at ease, I would.” Vergil’s expression softened slightly. If he was so willing to tell you, maybe it wasn’t anything bad.  “No, it’s okay, I trust you.”  Your own words were not a lie, you did trust Vergil, with your life and your secrets. Vergil nodded, as his body relaxed against a pillow. Now you were curious, not as jealous anymore, maybe a little still. 

Vergil shifted now to laying down, so rudely making you move. He laid on his back as he stared at the ceiling, the air was beginning to feel thick with tension. You managed to scoot your body closer to him, your eyes following a muscle in his neck that twitched as he clenched his jaw. He moved his arm, making way for you to cling next to him. It wasn’t often he felt comfortable with contact like this, it was usually directed by you. Your head now rested on his chest, as it calmly rose and fell. 

Just like that, your worries slowly seeped out of your mind, discarding themselves. Everything felt like it was going to be okay. Even just for a moment, maybe just for tonight, but it was enough to make you smile. The comfortable warmth that radiated off of Vergil made your body lax, while his hand played with a strand of your hair gently.  “What are you smiling for?” Vergil asked, his fingers lacing through your hair, and before your brain could filter the words that slipped out your mouth, they went rouge;

“I love you, Vergil.”

“Foolish girl.”

Thank you for reading! - onyxroses

[reidsdimples]

When Everything Changed | Part 5- Finale

18+ ❤️‍🔥 MDNI ‼️

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Enemies to lovers

Part 4 | Master list

The truth comes out

“When are we going to admit that this isn’t hate?” He murmurs and kisses your head.

You didn’t want to answer him because you knew you never hated him. You may be annoyed by him at times but the truth was, a sick thrill shot through you when you bickered with him. It always had.

“It’s easier to hate you,” you whisper, still lying against him on the floor.

You’re fucked out, you can’t move after what he did to you.

“Why?” His voice is so low you’d miss it if you weren’t on him. You shake your head.

“Getting close to someone in this field is dangerous. Look at us,” you wriggle free and turn to face him. “We were both shot.”

“The average FBI agent is shot once in their entire career, most not at all. The odds of that happening to one of us again are slim,” he reasons. You drop your shoulders.

“Spence,” you sigh.

“I know you don’t hate me. You want to. But you can’t,” he stands and moves over to the couch where he wraps himself in a blanket.

You sigh and get your footing under you, your legs still wobbly and pull on your underwear.

“I thought that was just about getting it out of our systems,” you stand in front of him which forced him to look up at you. He winces and his throat injury though and stops. You sit on the coffee table in front of him.

“Did it work? Am I out of your system?” He stares through you.

The truth was, you didn’t think you’d ever get enough of him after that. You had never been with someone who could work your body so well. You simply shake your head ‘no’.

His eyes level with yours.

“I’m not asking for a relationship. I’m asking you to stop pretending that this-“ he grabs your arm and yanks you towards him until his face is in front of yours. “Isn’t fun. That you haven’t gone home after a heated argument with me and finger fucked yourself.”

“How did you-“

“You’re not as good as you think at managing your micro expressions,” he gives you a sky grin.

He had been alot better at that part than you.

“You’re not as inconspicuous as you might think,” you jerk your arm away from his grip.

“Yeah?” He tilts his head, challenging you.

“"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation, It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."” You quote from his journal, from Jane Austen.

His mouth falls open, he was utterly shocked.

“You read my journal that night,” he stands, angry.

“I just saw the blurb you fell asleep writing,” you respond and cross your arms.

“Writing a quote from a book isn’t proof of anything,” he snaps. “I have an eidetic memory, I do that sometimes.”

“Maybe, but look how pissed you are,” you scoff.

You’re being an asshole and you know it. His cheeks turn red and he moves from the small space where you had been facing him.

“Pissed you made an assumption about my feelings for you, yeah,” he raises his voice. It’s still scratchy.

“What feelings Spencer?” You shout and march over to him. “Why are you so angry if there are no feelings?” Now you’re grabbing his arm and turning him towards you.

You ignore your phone ringing, a text follows it.

He glares at you, his eyes travel over your body where you’re only wearing a tank top and panties. You didn’t back down though, you wanted him to admit what his pride wouldn’t let him.

Both of you were acting like children in the face of your feelings. You were aware of it. He had to be too.

“Let go of me,” he demands.

“No,” you dig your nails into his bicep. “Tell me the truth.”

“The truth?” He huffs a laugh and tries to take his arm back from your grip. You double down and place a hand on his chest, pinning him against a bookshelf. “The truth is, if you don’t let me go, I am going to fuck you until you can’t walk,” he whispers. His words travel through you, straight to your still sore pussy. Your heart pounds in your throat and in your head at his threat.

His phone rings and you drop your hands to let him get it.

“Morgan,” he pauses. “Yeah, good. Okay sounds good.” He hangs up and turns to you. “They got him, everyone’s good. We can start our reports after we sleep.

You glance at the clock, 4am. Damn. Sleep sounds amazing.

“Okay,” is all you say. You’re glad the team is safe but your mind is whirling from Spencer’s words, his actions.

“Why don’t you take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch,” he sighs.

“No you’ve been in the hospital for weeks. Go sleep in your bed,” you demand, pointing to his room.

“It doesn’t matter what I say, you always have to argue or disagree,” he shakes his head.

“I’m trying to be considerate. God you’re impossible,” you groan.

He appears behind you, his body pressing against yours. You wonder if he can sense your arousal after his threat, after going back and forth with him.

“Go get in my bed,” his words are lethal. They leave no room for arguing.

You step forward out of his reach and hurry into his room. Fine, you’d sleep in his bed. You were trying to be nice, so much for that. You slam his door closed behind you.

You pull back the comforter, his bed perfectly made and slide in between the black silk sheets.

You think you hear him approaching the door after using his en suite bathroom, or maybe you hope you do. But he never enters. You watch the ceiling fan spin slowly in the dark. You had never been so sexually satisfied and the frustrated in such close succession.

You groan and put a pillow over your head. It doesn’t help, it smells like him. Annoying, sexy, frustrating him.

You toss and turn in the dark for what has to be an hour before you give up and stare back at the ceiling. Of course you left your phone in the damn living room.

This was torture, knowing he was out there, being surrounded by his scent in his bed. Maybe you could just make yourself cum once and you’ll be able to sleep. That would be plenty right? Especially after the amount of times he made you orgasm already. You bet you’d sleep blissfully. You kick the covers off and spread your legs wide, the cold air from the fan blowing over your pussy.

You slide your hand over your stomach and down into your panties. You’re surprised to find your clit so swollen with need, sensitive to the touch from overuse but begging for more. Begging for him. God you wanted him again.

Your eyes roll back as you begin to circle your clit, pressing hard and grinding your hips against yourself. You turn your head and moan into the pillow as you remember him between your legs.

“Finally that mouth is good for something,” you remember saying. Fuck it was so hot the way he looked up at you from between your legs.

“Dirty girl,” comes Spencer’s gravely voice from the doorway of his bedroom. You hadn’t heard the door open.

You startle and throw the blankets back over yourself. You were well and truly caught.

You see him saunter towards you in the dark and the bed dips as he crawls over you.

You meet his eyes, his own full of hunger.

“Show me how wet you are,” he whispers in your ear. You moan and bring your fingers up, shoving them in his mouth. He sucks gently, sliding his tongue between your fingers. You imagine the way that motion felt in your pussy.

He pulls the blanket off of you and kneels between your legs. He forces your knees flat to the bed so you’re spread wide for him. You wonder how many women he’s had in this position in this very spot. It’s fucking hot to imagine, Spencer, a womanizer. It was the only explanation for his filthy mouth and skills.

He pushes your panties to the side and pumps his long middle finger into you with ease.

“Let’s make a deal,” he muses and tilts his head as he slowly withdrawals his finger to the tip.

“Hmm,” you can’t talk. He presses it back in torturously slow.

“You’re going to tell me how you really feel about me. Then and only then will I expose my true feelings to you,” he hums as he slides his finger in and out of you. “I know you’re stubborn so I’m more than willing to fuck it out of you if I must.”

He removes his finger completely.

“Because the truth is, I want you to know how I feel,” he murmurs and bends down to kiss your pussy. Your underwear an all too cruel barrier.

Your arch up towards his mouth and he nips you with his teeth. You moan loudly.

He tears you free of your underwear and settles between your legs, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“Deal Spencer, please,” you beg and push your throbbing pussy towards his mouth. You needed him so bad, needed some kind of friction.

He pushes his tongue into your entrance and drags it all the way up through your folds, soaking his tongue. He lets out a sinful groan, pleased.

His two middle fingers find your entrance and curl upward, causing you to squirm at the blinding pleasure. He pins you down with his other arm across your hips and pumps into you while he sucks and licks at your clit.

“Spencer please it’s too much,” you cry out. You can’t believe how good it feels when he speeds up his tongue and applies more pressure inside of you.

“Tell me or I’ll stop,” he pauses. Leaving you to pant for a moment.

“I-“ you whimper.

He resumes his expert movements, winding you so tight it’s painful. You need to cum, you can’t take much more.

“You’re not listening,” he hums and withdrawals his fingers and mouth just as you’re approaching a euphoric orgasm.

“When we almost lost you, I realized I felt more,” you pant, your eyes blowing wide as you look down at him. His pink lips glisten with your arousal and he grins before sliding those wicked fingers back into you.

“Good girl,” he speaks against you and gives you want you want.

He pulls your clit into his mouth while his fingers pump you violently, curling to reach that spot deep inside of you. He presses you harder into the mattress, applying mind numbing pressure to your uterus. You’d never felt anything like it, how was he… how did he…

“Spencer!” An uncharacteristic scream erupts from your throat as the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced crashes through you.

You’re shaking around his fingers as he plants kisses against your pussy and slowly removes them. He plunges them into his mouth and licks them clean until you’re staring at him in awe. He was so fucking beautiful.

“That was easier than I thought it would be,” he crawls on top of you. His hair falls forward as he stares into your eyes. You whimper in defeat.

“I’m scared I’m falling for you. It makes me angry,” you whisper.

To your surprise he leans down and kisses you, his lips impossibly soft and warm.

“I’ve already fallen for you. I’ll catch you. I won’t let you get hurt,” he speaks softly and kisses you again. His admission feels like the most gentle caress and the greatest victory.

His hands push under your body and he brings your arms above your head. He holds you there, kissing you desperately. Your tongue pushes back against his until you’re both breathless and he’s grinding his erection against you.

Neither of you were done with each other despite the admission. You could spend the next 24 hours with him between your legs.

This brilliant, irritating, and irresistible man had somehow broken his way into your heart. You didn’t know it until he was fighting for his life in a hospital bed.

A strange sort of determination settles over you. You wouldn’t chance losing him again without loving him first.

“You’re mine,” it’s not a question, it’s more like he’s declaring it.

“Yours,” you nod and kiss him hungrily again.

[highlordofkrypton]

Micro story tag! I made spinning wheels specially for this challenge, and they have spoken.

Number 8, Neris 👀

I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN NERIS BERFORE (that I know of)... I HOPE THIS IS OKAY!! I was lowkey... stressing about this...

Sorry for being so... late... for the microstory ask

sunbathing

a neris microstory

It’s hot. Sweltering, even for an Autumn son. The summer’s heat is one thing, but the Congregation of Courts means that all the most important players in Prythian are here, including Nesta Archeron. He tilts his head, fanning himself. Vanserras don’t sweat, heat evaporating off their skin when they’re overheated, but what a shame. Beads of moisture follow the dip of her spine and Eris tilts his head, eyes tracing the curve of her back as she sunbathes.

“Paint a portrait, it’ll last longer, matchstick.”

“Or you could come home with me, you’d be so well kept.”

“Don’t you ever get sick of hearing your own voice?”

“Why ever? Yours always follows, and that is a symphony.”

Nesta makes a frustrated sound, getting off her beach chair and pulling on her cover up. She gives him a rude gesture before finding anywhere else to be.

“Excellent job, brother.” Lucien hums, sitting next to him beneath the shade of the trees. “You’re truly winning her over.”

“I’m sure it’s all very confusing to you, watching a master at work.”

“Oh, you’'ll be a master something alright.”

“Don’t you have a mate to get rejected by?”

“Ouch.”

“Oh, come on, that didn’t hurt.” Eris grins, elbowing his brother.

[sscieloz]

As you dance

Huh Yunjin x itzy6thmember!reader

Synopsis: Yunjin didn’t know you knew how to dance. That was, until she saw you wasted at an after party, laughing and moving your body along with the neon lights.

Warnings: nsfw, …? Idk what else. drinking, perhaps. smut. sub!yunjin x dom!reader.

Word count: 5.8 k.

Notes: I AM BACK ONCE AGAIN! And Idk what I did here. It just kept going.

—

Yunjin stared shamelessly as you danced around with your bandmates at the secret afterparty you were all attending. She watched as you swayed your hips along with the rhythm of the music and twirled your friends around, laughing when one of them lost balance and almost fell to the ground. To her, the way you moved around was completely indecent, for God’s sake. It made everyone stare at you, in awe. She hated that— so many eyes on you. She should be the only one.

Yunjin doesn’t know why she assumed you weren’t good at it. maybe by the way you talked about yourself, always saying how you hated to dance and were always behind your bandmates in choreography, looking too out of place to blend in. She should’ve known you were, as always, just insecure.

She had seen you dance before, of course. You were good with the choreography you were given, even if it wasn’t always your style. But to see you dance so freely… It was truly a sight.

To others, however, you were enjoying yourself and having fun with your friends, but Yunjin knew better— knew you better. It was a clear challenge, she could tell by the way your hands ventured to your chest, mostly exposed by your top’s neckline.

The subtle looks you’d send her across the room, every time your hands touched your best friends’, the one your stupid fans were always shipping you with, waist, were meant to defy her; provoke her.

It had made Yunjin so horny it hurt. She clenched her thighs, hoping for some kind of relief, but it did nothing to ease the burning sensation building up in her core.

Thankfully, the next set of songs were ones you disliked, so you excused yourself from your friends and neared the bar, taking a break.

Yunjin didn’t waste any time following you, sending hard glances to the people who motioned to greet you before she was by your side. As if she’d ever let them steal your attention from her.

"I didn't know you could dance," Yunjin casually told you, leaning against the balcony. Her tone was light, making it seem like a simple observation, attempting to mask the fact that simply watching you dance had made her incredibly turned on.

Your moves were experienced, almost obscene. And the micro skirt you wore had you looking irresistible, shining like a beacon in the middle of the damn dance floor.

It made her want to snatch you up and fuck you right in the restrooms, for everybody to hear you screaming her name, simply to get rid of that smug smile on your face.

You weren’t hers, though. The two of you were merely friends, so her actions were resumed to her wettest, dirtiest dreams.

"You assumed that, unnie,” you replied, after catching your breath for a few seconds. Your cheeks were flustered from the alcohol, and the dance had messed your hair up even more, making the curls run towards all places. "I said I didn't like it, and I don't," you continued, picking up the drink the waiter had handed you and thanking him with a bow and a small smile. "But it's fun, sometimes. I did ballet for quite a while, remember? I know a few things.

A few things.

You looked wild, free. Alive. Yunjin would definitely write about you once she went home. She could already plot the verses in her head.

You turned to her, taking a step so you’d be closer. Her eyes were beautiful, all bright and expressive, and you so hoped to get to be someone special in her life.

You’ve grown used to talking to her over the last weeks, after you asked for her number at an award ceremony. You two texted all the time, and told each other just about everything: she had told you about the hard time she had at produce 48, then the frustration when she decided to give up the trainee life and go to college; the insecurity she faced after finally living her dream, constantly wondering if she was enough, if she was worthy of all of this wonder.

You, on the other hand, shared about your family; how your mother and grandmother, mostly, coerced you into dancing, specially ballet, and how you absolutely loathed it. You told her that you tried out for JYP with one of your best friends at the time, who you admired so much and was such an inspiration to you.

Yunjin was the only one who knew how surprised you were when you got in, and she didn’t. And how her coldness and rudeness towards you broke your heart.

You two knew so much about each other, but it was so awkward to stare at her in person. Yunjin, who knew the raw version of you, who knew each and every one of your nightmares, and still wanted to be friends.

The amount of facts you knew about her made things a bit embarrassing.

Each time you spoke, it took an effort not to reveal anything she hadn’t told you yet. About her hobbies, her siblings… you knew it all. And you so desperately wanted her to notice you. To truly see you much you desired her.

Oblivious, the two of you. Both playing a game of hide and seek with your feelings, afraid you’d scare each other and make one run away.

She was taken by surprise by your movements, but quickly recovered and took a step towards you herself. She grabbed a strand of your hair, admiring the way the curls fell so graciously into place, adorning your delicate face.

“You look beautiful today.” She thought better, frowning slightly. “Every day, actually.”

You smiled at her, not thinking much of it, but before you could thank her, Kazuha showed up, jumping up and down.

“Yunjin unnie! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” She stopped to acknowledge you, still moving frantically. “Hello Y/n! You look so, so pretty!”

“So I’ve told her,” Yunjin mumbled, as you nudged her and thanked Kazuha, this time.

“Thank you, Zuha. Did you take too many Red Bulls again?” Kazuha nodded, as if the ground was sending electric waves into her body.

“Only two, Y/n-ah!” She did the number 2 with her fingers before turning to Yunjin. “Chaewon unnie says we have to go. We have rehearsals tomorrow morning, remember? We can’t be tired.” Kazuha explained, gripping the girl’s arm as she tried to drag her towards the rest of the bandmates.

Yunjin stood frozen, though. There was no possibility she’d leave you here, not when everyone was staring at you like they were just waiting for an opportunity to snatch you and take you home.

They wouldn’t dare. Taking you from her was not a possibility.

“I can’t go, Zuha.” Yunjin said, looking at you sneakily so the ballerina would, hopefully, get the hint. Kazuha furrowed her brows, confused.

“Why not, unnie?” She kept looking at you, then at yunjin, trying to understand.

“I can’t.”

You felt like you were intruding, but you couldn’t let Yunjin go, either. Your hands rested on her other arm, as you asked her softly, “Is everything ok? You look a bit pale. I can go if you'd like, the girls are probably looking for me anyw—“

“No!” Both girls exclaimed, making you take your arms off the older girl, taken aback by their intensity.

Yunjin eyed Kazuha before turning back to you, annoyed to not have your full attention anymore. Her thoughts were racing, and you’d given her the perfect cue: she wasn’t going to waste it.

Clinging onto you, she grabbed your tiny waist, burying her face in your neck since you knew she was a terrible liar.

Yunjin was tall herself, so she was constantly towering over people, but you were two, maybe three inches taller than her, which pleased her deeply.

“Actually, I don’t think I feel so good, Y/n. Perhaps you could come with us to the dorm? The girls sleep like rocks, and I’m afraid I’ll start to get nauseous, and I’ll be all alone because they never wake up.” She pleaded, making her voice crack so it would look real. Yunjin did feel a little bad for lying so bluntly to you, but she wouldn’t leave you alone at the club for everyone to have you.

She felt cold hands being pressed on her neck and her forehead, making her shiver. She could only think how it would feel to have those same hands pressing slightly into her pulse point, as she was pounded by behind—

“You really are a bit hot,” Yunjin heard you say, and it took all of her strength not to laugh. “And shivering. Why did you come? You should’ve gone straight home.”

To see you.

“Yes! Please come with us, Y/n! Yunjin is always talking about how you take such good care of your bandmates when they drink too much! You should care of unnie, too.” Zuha said, picking up on her friend’s act.

She shamelessly winked at the girl, but you didn’t even notice, too busy staring at your feet at the thought of Yunjin talking about you to her friends.

“Apparently, not so much,” You frowned, realizing your bandmates were no longer on the dance floor. They often drank over their heads, and you were always worrying they wouldn’t pass out in a chair or do something reckless. “Yeji is probably up to something somewhere, and Lia’s too sweet when she’s drunk. Now I’ve lost them.” You mumbled, truly thorn between the pretty girl in your arms and your bandmates.

Sensing your hesitation, Yunjin gave your waist a reassuring squeeze, which you pretended not to be affected by.

“We’ll find them and ask about it, ok? I’ll survive on my own if they’re too drunk.” She assured you. You nodded, and soon the trio started searching for your friends through the club.

—

Turns out you were right, after all. Yeji was as red as a tomato, laughing at Chaeryoung who had just tripped over the chair. Lia was flirting with someone you couldn’t see clearly in the dark, and Yuna looked in her own world besides Ryujin, downing shots by herself.

Surprisingly, Ryujin was cool, watching the whole scene with a small smile as she sipped on her drink.

She frowned at the sight of Yunjin clinging to you and Kazuha jumping on your other side, but her smile quickly became malicious as she noticed the older girl’s hands on your waist. You shook your head, mouthing her to stop.

Yunjin simply didn’t see you like this, no matter how much you wanted her to.

“We were looking for you,” she said, over the music, as soon as you were near enough to hear. Yeji had taken Kazuha for a dance, and now they were both in a jumping contest, apparently. Yunjin didn’t catch the way your friend’s voice dropped an octave, but you certainly did, “But you were busy, I see.”

“Yunjin is not feeling so good,” You clarified, giving her your best, stop trying to suggest things that didn’t happen stare. Ryujin new about your crush and how you and Yunjin texted all the time, and had always tried to convince you that the girl liked you as much as you liked her.

“I asked her to go home with us, to take care of me.” Yunjin explained, squeezing your waist again. She liked the way you tensed around her hands when she first did it, momentarily closing your eyes to regain your focus, “Because she always takes such good care of you, when you guys are not feeling so good. But she was wary of leaving you here alone.”

“Nonsense! We were actually looking for you to go home, too. It’s getting late anyway. You should take care of Yunjin-sunbaenim.” Ryujin approved, giggling. She motioned to the girls, pushing the two of you. “Get better! Rest well.” She wished Yunjin, and you wanted to kill her for laughing.

Yunjin, who was having the time of her life clinging onto you, sighed as she saw Kazuha’s energy. She motioned to let go of you to get her friend, but you tightened your grip, instead and reaching for the ballerina yourself.

You said goodbye to the rest of your bandmates, explaining them you’d spend the night at Lesserafim’s dorm, and they promptly wished Yunjin a speed recovery, clearly too drunk to think much of it.

In a few minutes, you were in a van with the rest of Yunjin and Kazuha’s members. They were such dears, and you already knew so much about them because of Yunjin, so thankfully the atmosphere was calm, with all the girls tired from the busy day and the party.

“It’s so cool that you’re sleeping over, Y/n-unnie! Yunjin unnie talks about you all the time.” Eunchae had excitedly said, making everyone laugh.

Yunjin stared at the window, muttering that the maknae was lying, but the blush in her face was proof enough.

“Y/n will be busy taking care of Yunjin, though, Manchae,” Chaewon said, knowing exactly what her friend was up to. “Yunjin might even puke.” She joked, earning a general ‘ewwww!’ from the girls, and a laugh from you.

You saw that Yunjin was still with her head on the window, so you poked her to get the girl’s attention.

“You shouldn’t be looking at the window so much if you’re dizzy,” you gently pushed her head to rest on your shoulder, which she did. “I did that once after drinking and puked on our dorm’s parking lot.” You frowned, remembering how you didn’t even drink too much that day, but still ended up sick.

“That’s gross.” She said, laughing and focusing on your lap, instead. She grabbed your hands, playing with your fingers to distract herself from the fact that you had really accepted to take care of her.

Yunjin kept reminding herself she was your friend, nothing else. She couldn’t risk making a move on you and having to handle your rejection. She wouldn’t dare. Friends.

The van stopped to drop Sakura and Eunchae at their dorm, and Sakura smiled at you before leaving.

“Take care of her, Y/n. Yunjin gets really whiny when she’s not feeling good.” She said, with playful eyes.

Yunjin looked like she was at a staring contest with the oldest, but let her go with a sigh.

“Goodnight to you too, unnie.” She mumbled, a pout on her lips.

Soon, you were in Chaewon, Kazuha and Yunjin’s dorm, and you took a good look at it before going to Yunjin’s room. It was spacious, neat and very bright, just like the girls. Chaewon and Kazuha bid you goodnight before retreating to their rooms, after giving Yunjin a hug.

When you entered her bedroom, she was riffling through her drawers, looking for something. You examined her room, too, as you’ve never been to her dorm before. There were plenty of posters on her walls, and a collage of polaroids hanging just beside her full-length mirror. You smiled, spotting the one you took at Music Bank, when you stumbled briefly across each other as you were running late— both of you looking flustered but with big smiles.

“It’s one of my favorites.” You’ve heard her say, behind you. “I just wished we had more pictures together.”

You turned to see her in a big T-shirt and small shorts, another set of clothes in her hands. You took it from her and quickly undressed from your sparkly skirt and black top, not bothering to go to the bathroom — you were friends, after all.

“We could go out more and take pictures, if you weren’t so busy all the time.” You whined, as she shook her head and threw herself in her bed, making sure to leave space for you.

“As if you weren’t busy yourself.” She answered, although her tone was still playful.

You left her room to get her a set of water and some painkillers — for if she had a headache from the drinks, and quickly came back. You wished she was in your room instead, so you could dote on her better.

“Do you have painkillers? And snacks?” You asked, standing still as she grabbed your arms to pull you to bed. You let her have her way, eventually, but scoffed as she hugged you close. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, unnie.” You reminded her, making the older girl giggle.

“You are taking care of me just by being here, Y/n.” She said, sniffling your perfume. Seeing your glare, she sat on the bed, reaching out to her nightstand, “See? I’ve got the painkillers already, and there are some more in the bathroom. I’ve got some for nausea, too, but I don’t think I’ll take them. I think what was getting me all messed up were the lights and the loud music after having a full day of recording and rehearsing.” and seeing all of those people wanting you. Yunjin wanted to say.

She wouldn’t, though. She didn't intend to scare you away.

Yunjin finally relaxed, lying against her headboard as she closed her eyes and sighed. She didn’t fully lie to you when she said she didn’t feel so good back at the club. The group was going through a rollercoaster of rehearsals, promotions, photoshoots, and the anxiety of whether people were going to accept them or not.

She was always feeling like she wasn’t good enough, and her exhaustion — both physical and mental — was starting to get her.

You embraced her, kissing her hair as you ran your fingers through the way you knew she liked it. The touch soothed her, and you slowly felt her relaxing.

“You’ll do great, Jen. All of you.” You told her, holding her a little bit tighter to reassure her of it. “You’re more than worthy, too. You’re talented, kind, and beautiful in all the ways that are possible. There’s simply no possibility of your fans not falling in love with you, with what you’ll inspire them with.” like I have.

It pained you that she didn’t believe in her herself, the years of training and not being chosen making her insecure. You wished she could see herself like you see her.

You two stayed like that for a while, with Yunjin tracing circles in your shirt and you running your hands through her hair and her upper-back, as if you’ve been doing this forever. You noticed her desk, all messy with empty cups and a pile of crumpled papers that also filled the small trash can on its side.

“You’ve been writing again.” You commented, feeling her tense for a second before staring at the desk, too. She’d always tell you about her songs, and you loved listening to her talk about their meaning for hours whenever you were facetiming.

It did upset you a little that she hasn’t shown you any of her latest works, but you understood: with both of you so busy, it was hard to share stuff like that in such little time.

Forcing herself to relax, Yunjin tried to sound careless as she shrugged. “They’re not finished yet, not even the first chorus. I just have the melody and a few words that don’t make sense at all. I’ll show them to you when it’s not… you know, a total mess.”

I can’t show you the lyrics because they are all about you.

You mumbled an “okay”, happy to be included in her life.

“Are you feeling better?” Yunjin nodded, and you continued, “We should watch a movie. The girls and I always watch something to sleep when we’re drunk, but not too drunk to simply pass out in our beds.” You explained, and she grabbed her laptop to abide to your wishes.

“Good idea.” She smiled, typing her password. “Disney movies?” You loved those, so you smiled brightly at her.

“Disney movies.”

—

You did try to watch the movie, but you’d never sleep with Yunjin by your side. You could feel her breath hovering and the subtle glances she’d send you while she thought you were focused on the screen. It was too much, to be around her so close and still not be able to truly touch her like you wanted to, and the feeling of not having her for yourself started to suffocate you. You paused “The emperor’s new groove”, hearing her protests as you shut the notebook down.

“Are you feeling better?” Your polite tone didn’t quite reach your eyes, interrupting the girl before she even had the chance to answer, “Because I think I should go. We also have a rough schedule tomorrow and I don’t want to intrude your dorm either, so maybe it’s best if I—“

“Wait!” Yunjin said, exasperated. She took a deep breath before speaking, clutching her hands. “No, I don’t feel better. I need something.”

And she kissed you.

Her touch was hungry and intense, as she gathered her hands to your face, scared you’d push her away and tell her you hated her, or that you didn’t like her like that. However, her worries subsided when you immediately corresponded, starved for her touch yourself. Yunjin only pulled away when there was no air anymore, and rested her forehead on yours.

“Please, please don’t go.” She pleaded, pecking your lips delicately, almost unsure. You melted, surrendering to her as you’ve only dreamed of doing.

“I won’t.” You promised, finally kissing her back. “I’ll do whatever you want, Jen.” And you truly would, if she such as whispered for you to.

You pushed her back onto the bed, sitting on top of her without placing your whole weight on her abdomen. Your fingers toyed with her shirt as you occupied yourself with sucking her lips, ravishing her taste. Yunjin tasted like cherries, such as her perfume and her favorite lip-gloss— the one you’ve taken so much effort not to stare at whenever she applied it around you, not wanting to make it obvious.

“Are you really good, though?” You murmured, searching for any signs of drunkness or discomfort in her eyes as you’ve distanced yourself to take a proper look at her: beautifully settled on her bed, with messy hair from the making out and her mouth slightly bruised, marked in a deep crimson that also adorned her cheeks. She was so beautiful, like a painting.

You never wanted to forget such a sight.

Yunjin took your hands, her touch strong and decided as she stared at you with her big eyes, her tone nothing but serious.

“I’m perfectly fine, Y/n.” She giggled a little when she realized she was caught in her lie, but her expression quickly went serious again. “I want you. I think I’ve wanted you for a while, actually…” she was shy, tracing circles in the palm of your hands as she took another big breath to steady herself. “I like you. I really, really like you. And it’s ok if you don’t like me back, either. I’m sorry I kissed you so suddenly but I jus—“

You silenced her with another kiss, laughing it through to shake the urge to cry from relief. You truly couldn’t believe she felt that way towards you, not when you’ve been trying so hard to be her friend, worried to fuck it all up.

“I like you too.” You answered, trailing kisses down her face as you made your way to her exposed neck, “I’ve wanted you since the first time we talked, at that stupid music award.” She was moaning under you, as wet as the kisses you placed on her fair skin, and you couldn’t get enough of her. “God, I’ve wanted you for so long.”

You licked her neck, sucking and marking it to your liking as you felt Yunjin’s fingers grab your hair, pushing you down with urgency. You laughed, stopping completely to admire her desperate face.

“Do you want me down here, baby?” You murmured in her ear, cupping her cunt through her shorts and feeling how wet she was. It pleased you to get those sensations from her body, and her whines aroused you even more; you could feel yourself so wet from simply kissing her, too.

“Please, Y/n.” She pleaded, humping herself against your hand to try to have more friction, anything against her pussy to have her relief. “Please f-fuck me.”

You wanted her completely at your mercy, a mess of whimpers and begs until she was crying out your name so loud for all the neighbors to hear. But she looked so exasperated— almost in pain, when you weren’t touching her, so you quickly decided to give her whatever she wanted you to. To adore her body as much as you adored her soul.

“Very well, then.” You quickly got rid of her clothes, lowering yourself where she needed you the most, but Yunjin got up before you could move, placing her hands on your shoulders.

You shot her a glare, stopping to see if she wanted for you to cease completely, but she clumsily tried to take out your shirt instead, her neediness making you smile. You intercepted her, locking her wrists gently in front of her before kissing her jaw. “Try again, princess? Talk to me, this time.”

She looked away from your stare, embarrassed by how the nickname aroused her and how hot you looked, towering over her frame as you corrected her. She tried again, this time, tone unsure as her long fingers plucked the ends of your shirt.

“Take yours off too, please?” You smiled at her gentleness, stripping for her as you made her lie down once again.

“Good job, babe.” You placed yourself between her thighs, loving to see how she shivered at every deep breath you took, the breeze reaching her aching pussy as she clenched her muscles to try to get some relief.

You gathered her slick from her slit and used it to rub on her clit softly, with barely enough pressure, but it was enough for her to moan loudly, closing her eyes to maximize the feeling. It encouraged you to keep going, tracing faster circles in her clit as you kissed and sucked on her thighs as you wished.

“Fuck, Jen. You’re so beautiful like this.” You murmured, watching her lost in pleasure as you entered her with one finger. She lost her air, and you let your hands hover through her body before giving her your thumb to suck on, which she gladly did.

Having her displayed like that, bare and so responsive to your touch, was heavenly, so special. It was greater than you’d ever imagined it.

You added a second finger in her soaked entrance, but she was still whining as she stared at you with her hazel eyes.

“What do you want, love?” You asked, taking your hand from her mouth. “Say it, and it’s yours.” You didn’t ease your rhythm, still going in and out as you touched her clit now slowly, wanting to build the pleasure rather from taking it from her so fast.

It was difficult for Yunjin to think: her whole body was on fire, and you kept talking so sweetly her head was a mess of nothing and everything and the way you touched her was just so good, making her so full, but at the same time, she needed more.

“Just take a deep breath and the words will come up, babe.” She was reminded by you, as your hands gripped her thighs in the gentlest way you could, grounding her back.

She did as told, taking a couple seconds to gather herself.

“I-fuck” She let out a loud pitch she so wished Kazuha hadn’t heard as you curled your fingers inside her, reaching a spot that made her see little starts in her ceiling. “I n-need your mouth.” Yunjin frowned when you didn’t comply with her immediately, vaguely annoyed before she remembered, “Please, Yn. I want y-you down.”

You smiled against her cunt, giving it a long lick as you watched her shake strongly.

“You’re learning, Jen. We’ll get you all obedient soon enough.” You murmured, and Yunjin wanted to ask you further about it, but your mouth finally made contact with her cunt, your tongue entering her hole along with your fingers, making her curl her toes, drunk in pleasure.

Yunjin’s moans were delicious to hear, now more than ever, as she had given up on being silent for the girls not to hear. Surely, they expected it. She’d make up to them later, buy Kazuha a new plushie and Chaewon that purse she was whining so much to get all week. For now, the only thing that mattered was your mouth and fingers on her, making her so full and loved it hurt.

Your mouth let her slit to give attention to her clit, licking it fast as you alternated it with moving your tongue in zigzag to maximize her pleasure. You had Yunjin feel her pleasure come to her in a strong wave, clenching furiously as you gripped her hips to hold her into place. With a high cry, she came, and you kept fingering her until she came down from her high, her bare chest going up and down fast to steady her heartbeats.

“That was strong.” You murmured, taking your hands off her pussy to lie down next to her. “Are you okay?” You asked, cupping her cheek as she gave you a small nod. You tucked a strand of her hair behind her ears, to keep it away from her face. Yunjin’s face was adorned with a thin coat of sweat, and she reached for you to taste herself.

“I’m okay. So okay, thank you.” She hugged you, now clingier than ever, and you embraced her tightly as she relaxed, kissing you slowly as she ravished her own salty taste in your mouth.

You thought she’d sleep, too worn out from the whole day, but you felt her fingers teasing your thighs soon enough, brushing at your cunt gently.

“Jen, you don’t have to—“ You stood half-up to look her in the eyes, protesting.

She wasn’t looking at your face, though. Her eyes were focused on your body, drinking every inch of it with lust. Only after a minute she stared back at you, with a pout.

“I want to touch you, too. You’ve made me feel so good, Yn.” She said, giving you her best puppy eyes. “Let me make you feel good, please?”

Never denying her anything, you positioned yourself between her thighs, so she could have better access to your pussy. You couldn’t resist touching her, even though she was the one giving you pleasure, so you’ve placed quick kisses on her chest, making your way to her hardened nipple as you sucked on it.

She moaned loudly at the feeling of your hot mouth against her skin, her fingers losing rhythm on your clit as she tried to wriggle out of your touch. You placed both of your hands on her hips, gently forcing her into place.

“It’s not fair, Yn-ah.” Yunjin complained, as you laughed. You guided her hand back to your cunt before lowering yourself against her again, as she got her focus back on you.

“You’re a smart girl, Jen. You can keep your focus.” You smirked, sucking as your other hand left her hips to squeeze her other breast. “That’s it, baby. You’re—fuck, you’re doing so good. You’re so good with your fingers.” You praised her as Yunjin glowed at it, gaining rhythm as her thumb applied pressure on your hardened bud each time she thrusted in your pussy.

She was skilled with her fingers, the ones you’ve daydreamed to have knuckles deep in you so many times before, when she played for you through your FaceTime calls, and you were quick to have your pleasure building up on your lower abdomen, already so aroused from her reactions to your touches and just the sight of her at all.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna c-cum.” You sucked harder, both of you moaning together as you arched your back, reaching your high. She pulled you towards herself, kissing you passionately as you corresponded with equal fervor, grabbing her closer until there wasn’t a single molecule between you.

“I can’t get enough of you.” Yunjin told you, kissing your cheeks, your nose, your neck. She made herself busy there, making sure to mark you as you’ve done to her. So everyone would know who you belonged to.

“Lucky for you, Huh Yunjin.” You said, feeling fully loved and complete by being by her side. “I can’t seem to get enough of you, either.”

Now, every time you danced, Yunjin wouldn’t be bitter anymore: she knew where you’d be looking. Your eyes would always be on her.

-

“Unnie, why do you have such a thick scarf on? It’s barely autumn yet.” Eunchae was the first to speak as Yunjin entered the van, late as they were making their way to the company for rehearsals.

“And the glasses, too. There’s no sun, unnie.” Kazuha motioned to her face, trying to mask her laugh, as Eunchae got even more riled up, babbling about the weather and her worries towards her unnie.

Yunjin only shushed the younger girl, brushing her hand in her mouth to make her stop talking so loudly.

“Quiet, Manchae. Unnie is sick, remember? I think I drank too much last night. I’m hangover.” She managed to say it seriously, making the maknae finally tone herself down. The girls were laughing freely now, but Yunjin only glared at them in hopes they’d stop teasing, too tired to argue it out.

“You guys are ridiculous.” She muttered, ignoring the kissing sounds they were making, like 5th graders.

Yunjin couldn’t help but smile, though. And to think about you. Her songs were definitely going to be finished as soon as she got home again.

[dontlookatmytmntcollection]

hello! I was wondering if you had any thoughts abt how our turtles would be with an s/o that's a bit of a microcelebrity. Think like a streamer or a youtuber someone with a large but niche following

I hope you have a good day/night! :3

Given that MOST of the turtles' human contacts are celebrities or people in power- it wouldn't be that crazy to them.

Micro-Celebrity x Bayverse Turtles

-Your friendship would be unaffected by it. But entering in a romantic relationship with him, the changes and challenges would take you BOTH by surpise.

-First of all, your turtle cares EXTREMLY deeply for you, and he wants very badly, to make you happy and keep you safe. He is constantly proud of you and he is always watching you thinking, 'Jesus, how the hell did I land this. How.'

-I think the biggest fight or difficulty would be that you would go days, even weeks without seeing each other. Between his schedule and how often you are in front of thousands if not millions of people- it would be difficult.

-Your turtle would also be fighting with feelings of inadequacy or paranoia, more so than he ever had with his other human contacts. Constantly on your case about safety.

-He'd feel as if he isn't enough, that you deserve more in a partner. Someone to be proud to show off, to be someone who could show YOU off. God knows he wants to. It would have been like that without your following but now it's even WORSE.

-To be with one of the turtles demands you sacrifice a LOT just out of the gate. And sometimes that's enough for your turtle to call the relationship into question. So you'd have to put a lot of effort in making it work. Even if you DIDN'T have a following.

-A lot of LITERALLY sacrificing and scheduling time weeky and regularly SPECIFICALLY to spend time and connect with him. At times, it's the only time you see him, and he needs that time just as desperately (if not more) than you do.

-Nosey fans or pesky followers or stalkers would be hard to deal with, even if they were nearly asking questions about your love life. Or picking out the extremely small details that hint that you are hiding something or someone from them. It will be exhausting.

-It will be exhausting to him too. Feeling stressed over April's safety, and leaving her safety to her team's during daytime hours is all one thing. You, though??? Even worse.

-Having someone so close him in such an exposing light all the time hurts his heart, and it would help to include him anyway you possibly can when it comes to keeping you safe.

-LET him walk you home. Let him pick you up or follow you around town, or let him help with the computers or house- it will ease his worry. And it kinda feels good no one can touch you.

[atlantablack]

Okay okay, if you're up for it, for the micro story ask, what about "don't leave"?

I feel like the real challenge here is - can I keep this micro - brevity is not my friend but let's see

Bilbo is already half-way to Dale -- his pack heavy on his back, Gandalf a steady presence at his side -- when he hears the sound of hooves behind them.

When he turns, worried that something has managed to go wrong in the hours since they left Erebor, he finds Thorin barreling towards him on a pony, closely followed by Dwalin, Kili, & Fili.

All he can really do is stare, open mouthed, as the group speeds toward him. What could have possibly happened? A traitorous part of his heart whispers, he's come to ask you to stay, but he knows that's a lie. He'd been in Erebor for an entire season and Thorin had never once given him any indication that he wanted Bilbo to stay past the winter.

Bilbo knows it's a lie and so it makes no sense to him at all when Thorin swings himself off of the pony, strides forward, and the first words to come out of his mouth are, "Don't leave. Amrâlimê. I do not have the right to ask this of you but do not leave."

Thorin's eyes are very blue and Bilbo's heart is beating very loud. He dimly recognizes that his walking stick has slipped from his fingers but it seems rather unimportant in the face of Thorin's earnest words.

"I don't understand," he says, clinging to his composure by his fingertips. "Why would I stay?" What he doesn't say is, how could I not, when it's you asking, how could I not?

Thorin flinches but resolutely takes another step forward to grab his hand. Bilbo lets him, unwilling to deny Thorin anything even now.

"I do not have the right but I will ask regardless," Thorin says so quietly his words are in danger of being whipped away by the wind. "I would ask that you stay by my side so that I may court you. So that I would not have to know the bleakness of days spent without you by my side."

Bilbo stares. And stares. Oh, he thinks, wondering if this is what it feels like to fall in love all over again. It's a rock slide and a flood. It's the anxious twist of Thorin's mouth, the way the midday sun hits the blue of Thorin's eyes and leaves them dazzling.

"Oh," he says out loud. And then again. A wet sounding laugh bubbles up and out of his mouth. "Oh, of course you stupid, stupid dwarf. All you had to do was ask me."

Fili and Kili break out into cheers but Bilbo doesn't have eyes for anyone except Thorin and the smile that breaks across his face. When Thorin kisses him it's a thousand shades of summer and fresh spring rain, which is to say, it's home.

[magiciansfanworksextravaganza]

Welcome Home!

Magicians Fanworks Event, Jan. 27-Mar. 9, 2025

Welcome Home!

We’re welcoming fanworks of all types celebrating The Magicians (Lev Grossman/SyFy). This low-key challenge focuses on a series of weekly entries, open to both new works and additional chapters to existing WIPs, from Jan. 27-Mar. 9, 2025, Eastern time.

The overall theme for the entire event is Welcome Home!

If you would like to create something for the general “Welcome Home!” theme, these are welcome anytime while the event is open, from Jan. 27-Mar. 9!

In addition, here are the weekly themes. If you miss your week, you’ve got a second chance during Week 6, our Free Space/Catch-Up week!

Want to continue an existing WIP but it doesn’t match any of our themes? Send it during Week 6!

All types of fanworks are welcome! Yes, yes, yes to fic, art, edits, vids, cosplay, crafting, podfic, fanmixes, pinboards, moodboards, and more! Any number of submissions you like. You can even send us multiple chapters of the same work as separate entries, for different themes or the same theme! Please let us know which theme you chose, and make sure your work either:

1. Fits the overall event theme (send anytime Jan. 27-Mar. 9), or:

2. Fits a specific week’s theme (send during that week, or in Week 6)

Exception: New additions to existing WIPs that don’t match a themeare welcome in Week 6.

WEEK 1: Jan. 27-Feb. 2, Home—What constitutes “home” to the characters? What do they think of “home,” good or bad?

WEEK 2: Feb. 3-9, "It's been a long time"—It could be a long time since characters saw each other, or a long time engaged on a task like the mosaic. Special note: The 7th anniversary of The Magicians 3x05, “A Life in the Day,” is Feb. 7. We’d love to see Mosaic Fic.

WEEK 3: Feb. 10-16, Seasonal/holiday—Whether or not it’s the current season/holiday right now (any are welcome). This could include “vibes” or “ambiance” for the readers to enjoy in connection with a particular holiday (haunted house for Halloween; romance for Valentine’s Day—which falls this week). If the season or holiday is not specifically referenced in the content, please let us know which one it is.

WEEK 4: Feb. 17-23, Magical creature—A being from the show or books, or from mythology/folklore, or one you make up.

WEEK 5: Feb. 24-Mar. 2, Returning after absence (or returning to being themselves).

WEEK 6: Mar. 3-9, Free space/catch-up week! If you are catching up for a prior week, please let us know which one. If you’re adding to an existing WIP that doesn’t match any theme, it belongs here.

Remember—any works for the general “Welcome Home” theme may be sent any time the event is open, from Jan. 27-Mar. 9. However, please let us know if you are following the overall event theme rather than that week’s theme.

The last day for challenge entries on Tumblr and/or AO3 will be March 9 at 11:59 PM Eastern.

Please stay tuned for more details! And in the meantime, please enjoy the wonderful works created for our micro Magicians challenge, Warm Up!

[ethereal-feline]

Ok so I've been getting a lot of Invincible in my youtube feed and yo Cecil in MHA would thrive. Not that its necessarily good for everyone else but either through dimension hopping/time travel shenanigans or Cecil born in MHA during time of Quirks, I think he's gonna still be Cecil.

Like, if its through dimension/time travel, he's just gonna adapt like "ok, a dimension/time period where superpowers are a lot more common and even lawfully regulated" and then find the GDA in some fashion and if its GDA wholesale, you can bet Donald Ferguson is still gonna be around. So then they get to work on sending Cecil back no problem, but in the meantime Cecil is gonna Cecil and see if he can bring back any Quirks.

If Cecil is born in MHA, that would be a perfect view into the gritty underbelly of Pro Hero work. Like how Underground Heroes were supposed to be I think? Anyways, his job is more or less the same. Coordinating Pro Heroes and keeping eyes on potential threats. If his backstory remains the same just in MHA, someone like All Might or Izuku would definitely be shocked with his methods.

"But its All Might! He's the Symbol of Peace! He would never harm civilians!" Izuku probably says after finding out he has a micro chip taser in his neck that would stun him at Cecil's discretion.

"He can turn a thunderstorm into a clear sky by snapping his fingers. I'm making sure you don't do the same to someone's skull." Cecil after already getting blood samples to compare All Might and Izuku if he doesn't already know about OfA and AfO and probably thinking of how to fan Endeavor's one sided beef to make sure he's in tip top shape because a focused and locked in Endeavor is now their best shot at AfO with OfA in a first year high school kid, so Cecil is gonna chuck the adult at AfO first before yeeting the kid.

Its not like Cecil doesn't care. He does, really. He just commits atrocities like hiring a mad scientist to create a robot zombie army because he believes its for the greater good. To Cecil, you're either a good person or someone who can save the world, but not both. So I think he's gonna remind Endeavor about his goal to surpass All Might and press the Touya Button if/when Kamino happen because if it ever gets out (Cecil is probably helping investigate the LOV and has a hunch about Dabi) about how Endeavor treats his family he's gonna need a shit ton of PR so keep the moping at home and hop to it soldier, we'll check on the wife and kids for you.

Cecil wouldn't even bat an eye at the previous HPSC president's methods of having Nagant take out corrupt Pros (ok maybe with how close range it seems she's a sniper!) or at how the next one basically buys Hawks like a puppy from the store to train. Cecil would just do some mental math about the budget and nod, reminding himself to keep an eye on the kid because Fierce Wings is real versatile (flight + each feather can be sharpened + can detect subtle air changes to hear conversation + pick up weight up to an adult human) while he monitors on the American Pro Heroes.

I haven't fully caught up yet or read the comic but Cecil seems like he'd be a good foil to Izuku. Does the right thing with the most questionable methods because he tried the "right" way in the past and it doesn't work, and Izuku challenges that. Pro Heroes do not kill for PR reasons but they absolutely can, Cecil is gonna remind Izuku of that, especially about Shigaraki, and Izuku will insist he can both save and stop Tomura/Tenko. And Cecil's response?

"Better be in the budget, kid."

Might go looking for Invincible/MHA fics now lol