#Guilty-Shot-News

[t6fs]

"You don't have to forgive me, my friend. The rest of them surely won't."

[kinnoth-2]

.....I have a fully complete Nero/Dante pwp that I can't release bc that's not my ship and I don't want people to get the wrong idea, this blog is a Dante/Vergil vessel, sure sometimes we do pit stops on "Dante's too lonely and touch starved to say no forever when his brother's son insists" island but WE HAVE AN ITINERARY DAMNIT THERE'S NOT A MOMENT TO LOSE--

[postmanlinksbootyshorts]

youji really feels guilty for existing huh

[deanpinterester]

it's that time in production when i'm seriously considering quitting my job again 🥴

[spacechannellesbian]

Just played the new guilty gear patch, Johnny is NOT beating the chaser allegations

[prythianpages]

I hate endings whether it’s reading, writing or watching but I’m determined to finish my Eris series (the Angel au) 😤 and Rhys one 😤😤

[izzy-b-hands]

Trying to make my brain do anything today has just been case after case of 'well, half-assed is better than nothing I guess.'

[tonycries]

Love Island - T.F.

Synopsis. Islanders, you’ve got a steamy date! An unfortunate recoupling leaves only you and one other participant unpaired - the mean, smug, hot Toji Fushiguro. Too bad you hate him, right? Right? 

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, Love Island AU, enemies-to-Iovers, forced proximity, reality TV, recoupling, first dates, arguing during it, slight exhíbitíonism, oraI (fem rec.), he gets PÚSSYDRÚNK, running from it, manhandIing, use of “ma’am”, chokíng, spítting, p talking, competitiveness, making him fit, tummy buIges, p sIapping, he makes you count, DÚMBIFlCATION, slight marathon, squírting, the L word, Toji’s down bad, getting together, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 10.1k

A/N. My guilty pleasure tbh…

You could only stare in utter silence.

Because you knew- oh, you knew that if you dared open your mouth right now, it would let out a barrage of insults they couldn’t air on even the trashiest of reality TV. 

Right ahead of you, Naoya turns away with a scoff. Smirking down at the brand-new bombshell he’d just sauntered onto the island with. Hand-in-hand. 

Yours left empty.

You jolt at the tense announcement of your name, the glitzy host probing at you with pitiful eyes- “Tonight’s recoupling is now complete, you have not been chosen. As always, you must pack your bags and leave the villa-”

Fists clenched, you stand.

“…but our voters seem to think otherwise.”

What? You could almost hear the beat drop they’d edit in during production. And as every islander freezes in confusion, the camera greedily follows each expression. Each word.

“Because who doesn’t love a good enemies-to-lovers?” She waves her cue cards with flourish, honing in on one participant—

Toji Fushiguro.

Next to you, Utahime holds onto Shoko’s hand. You could hear a few of the men mutter. Most of the cameramen themselves fighting back gasps. Hell, even Naoya seems to raise an icy brow. 

And with his beefy arms crossed so tight that his button-up strains, dark brows furrowed - Toji seemed just as bewildered as you were. He lounges by the corner of the semicircle seat that surrounded the infamous Love Island bonfire. Jutting his chin in defiance, “No way.”

You never thought you’d see the day where you agree with him of all people, “This has to be a joke. I mean- him?”

“Charming as ever, doll.”

“See what I mean?”

“Oh, I’m looking.”

The numerous producers behind-the-scenes were near-salivating as they lean in closer, and you could practically count the dollar signs in their eyes. Each shot of your little argument was liquid gold, and it seemed the host knew just as much. “Islanders, as you know, the public has been watching- and voting! And this week we had them vote for two Islanders they would like to see go on a date.”

Oh, fuck.

It wasn’t just some brief coupling until you could snag someone else - this was a date. A date. 

You’re biting back a groan as she pauses for what stretches on like eons.

Letting the gossip and tension simmer like the crashing waves nearby; you swear the temperature heightens by at least ten humid degrees once the host finishes off - with your name-

“-and Toji–!”

It bursts - the whispers, the sounds of camera lenses peering ever-closer, the constant repetition of ‘but they can’t stand each other?’ And you couldn’t quite fault any of your fellow participants for pointing out something you knew yourself. 

Something that the host blissfully ignores as she rattles off from her cards, “You will be leaving the villa immediately to see if those sparks of difference can turn into sparks of something more.” Faintly, you register Shoko and Utahime pulling you into a hug, “We’ll be seeing if it really is true that you should keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer. Get ready. And good luck!”

Promptly, the two sides of the couch separate as per their groups.

And you couldn’t even give a single fuck about the way that Naoya was hovering awkwardly with his new beau. Forgotten already.

The only thing registering in your mind behind Utahime’s cooing–“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Soft tone still being picked up by the microphones, “Do you need some water? A breather?”

“I’m alright-” You’re waving off, “I don’t even care about that damn Naoya anymore, it’s just…” Throwing a look at Toji - who has the audacity to look over the manly hands thumping his shoulders. Twiddling his fingers in a mocking wave at you, “Him?”

“He’s better than that pig, to be fair.” Shoko unsubtly nods at Naoya, loud enough that he turns to her with a bristle. “At least he hasn’t been ogling every girl at the villa like Mr. Two-Tone.”

You’re wincing at the reminder of your first pick - Zenin Naoya. 

The man who’d paired up with you on the first week itself with his sweet, snaking words, and promised you the world. And even though you should’ve known better than to expect as much on a dating show, it was still a complete slap in the face tonight to have him be so ready to kick you off the Island tonight. “He hasn’t been ogling any girl.”

Utahime hums, “Imagine if you’re the first on the Island to turn his head.” Sputtering at your sharp stare- “I-I mean-”

And then there was him - Toji.

You’d hated each other on sight. 

Maybe it was that cunning glint in those jade eyes of his, the way he was too suave, too in control. Or maybe it was the way he’d spilled juice all down your best dress during your first meeting, and all but ran from you afterwards. No apologies. Nothing more but snark to match yours. 

But it was a shock that Toji had made it this far in the competition anyways - being brought in to stir drama halfway through the season, he’d been cruising by purely as a fan-favorite. 

And, sure, he was begrudgingly handsome; tall, chiselled, but he hadn’t set a single hand or pair of eyes upon any of the other women here. Not even any of the bombshells - as someone else oh-so-clearly had. 

There had to be something wrong with him.

“Why, how nice to know that’s what my hot date thinks of me~”

Fuck- you’d mused that out loud. 

And right as Toji had sidled up behind you, predatorily quiet. You fight to keep your tone even as you look over your shoulder to meet his burning gaze, “Honesty is the best policy, no?”

He plants a firm palm on the seat cushion, craning his head down low enough until his breath mingles with yours. “Any more honest observations before we kill each other on the date tonight?”

“You’ll find out as I dance on your grave.” You roll your eyes. 

“Aww, think about the show ratings–”

Nodding seriously, “Which will certainly improve after I kill you off.”

“Feisty.” Toji’s sharp canines glint in the light of the flickering bonfire as he grins. It’s pindrop silence as he nudges his head even closer, even more intimately. “Then be honest with me, doll, and tell me your favorite color.”

“Huh?”

“Color. Favorite.” He makes a face of faux concern, “Or s’that too tough for your pretty lil’-”

“Can’t blame me for being surprised you can understand the color spectrum.” You’re biting out - the date hadn’t started but it was already in ruins, you could already imagine how the rest of the evening would go. Ultimately spitting out your favorite shade-

“Hm, interesting.” Toji inclines his head down at you for a thick second, two- before turning his sculpted back in the direction of the assigned dorms. “Dress up f’me tonight, will you—”

You spit out a few more choice words, even as Utahime strokes your hair. “There there, it’s just for tonight.” You’re shivering as her lips brush your earlobe, whispering conspiratorially, “And if you ask me, I think the producers are actually onto something.”

“You’re joking.”

She insists, “Enemies-to-lovers.”

“Enemies-to-you’re-delusional, Uta.” Shoko deadpans- before cracking a meager smile once she’s catching her gaze. Hands intertwined with each other, whilst yours gripped emptily. “But I love you, anyway.”

You groan at the paired couple, already dreading whatever the studio had conjured up for you on the date. “They should’ve sent you two instead.” 

Utahime cackles, “You’re not getting out of your enemies-to-lovers that easily, girl.”

“At the very least, you’re on camera.” Shoko looks accomplished at your dual inquiring gazes, “So you won’t be able to actually kill each other.”

.

.

.

You were actually going to kill each other.

It was only a few minutes into this ‘romantic’ dinner date and one of you had already thrown a fork at your date. The other had thrown an impressive helping of mashed potatoes. 

You’re grimacing as the cameraman nearby smears off a creamy smudge of potatoes from his expensive lens, turning back to your date. He’d dressed…surprisingly well - in a button-up of your favorite color, raven bangs styled stylishly messy, smirking at you from the end of a candlelit table. “A true gentleman.” 

“And yer a true warrior.” Toji cackles, bending over to pick up your fork from the carpet of the restaurant. 

The producers had managed to rent out one of those painfully high-end ones in town. With deconstructed soups and a menu with dishes more expensive than your rent; all deep red decorations for couples, and soft waltzes playing out loud. 

And you didn’t know if you felt more out-of-place at this establishment or simply sitting opposite Toji.

“Oi. Oiii–” He’s teasingly snapping you out of your spinning thoughts, arms crossing as he leans over the table. “Finally fallen for my charms–?”

“Charms?” You furrow your brows, pushing the tiny portion of dinner ‘round with a spoon. It’d been long since the crew had given up trying to prompt you two into usual first date questions. Pretending to look around, “Where?”

Smile venomous, Toji’s closing the gap between you on the table- “Ah, forgot you can’t see them with your head stuck up your ass, doll.”

And you’re not far behind, but neither are the cameras. “Been staring at my ass a lot, have you?” All clustering around the chaos of the table, the sniping words breaking through the gentle atmosphere. 

“Why, I have.”

You gape, “Must be why I’ve been feeling sickly lately.”

“No, it’s just sickening to be such a grouch.”

“I’d rather be a grouch than a sleaze.”

And he’s leaning his head on one palm, long lashes narrowed- he has the audacity to flutter them at you. “Why, I thought that was your type?”

You have to fervently battle the hand itching to grip your porcelain plate, that goop of your appetizers still-untouched. Cocking your head, “And what if it is? What’re you gonna do about it?” 

You’re watching as something within Toji’s half-lidded eyes seems to flicker- something seems to twinkle. And, knowing Toji as much as you have these past few weeks, it doesn’t feel like anything that bodes well for you.

With a low, pointed sigh he’s slouching over the table - closer to you, close enough that the silky fabric of his dress pants bump against your knees and makes your skin sizzle with heat. And you have no doubt that the cameras manage to catch each second of this motion. “Well, unlucky for you, I’m no sleaze, darlin’.”

Tone deep. Almost husky. 

It’s enough to make your skin prickle with goosebumps, and something in your breath catches as you cross your arms. “Prove it.”

And it was a simple retort. It was something to leave your word last, and your mind thinking you won the ceaseless argument. 

Not something to make the cameramen gasp as Toji stands to his full, towering height. As he casually drifts a hand through his messy bangs, pushes his long sleeves upwards to bear veiny forearms, and reaches one out to you-

You stare at his open palm as if it was a snake waiting to strike, “Wh-what?”

“You said to prove it. Come on then, let’s get outta here.” He’s smugly rolling his eyes, “Unless you’re just as uptight as that Nao-”

You’re intertwining your fingers with his faster than you could blink.

And it registers that just as Toji was large - so were his hands. Thick, enveloping, he’s barely even trying to guide you breezily to your feet. A roughened thumb slowly dragging down the sides of your index, “So- since the madam wasn’t enjoying her time here, where might you suggest we g- oh.”

But you’re quicker.

And you’re dragging him through the line of fancy tables, well away from the cameras that hasten to keep up. “Away from that.”

“…yes, ma’am.”

Oh, you quite liked that coming out of his mouth - though, you’d never admit.

It takes two minutes for you to duck out of the overly-polished enterprise of the restaurant, and only one more to speed walk towards the first stall of street food you could find. 

Stuffing your faces into something fried and much more filling, you can’t even bring yourself to feel even a shred of self-consciousness as you notice that the cameras have caught up by now.

But what you didn’t notice was the look that Toji was shooting your way- half-pausing his own devouring, half-locked on the cute lil’ hums that you were letting off. Simply pondering. 

“Ah, I remember my husband looked at me on our first date.” A slightly-weathered, gigging voice speaks up- and both of you snap your heads towards the crouched old lady manning her stall. Nodding at the two of you, “Keep looking at her like that, young man. Even when you’re all old and wrinkly like me.”

You nearly choke on your food, “O-oh, actually, we’re-”

“Of course, I will, grandma.” Toji, ever-the-charmer (to everyone but you, it seems), throws his strong arms around your shoulder. Tugging you to his hardened front, “She’d been begging for ages to take me out.”

And you can only watch in pure horror as she’s lightly pinching the dimples by Toji’s grin, “Odd amount of cameras there are. Is this for- what the kid’s call ah- YouTube?”

Toji starts, “It’s for…”

“Our wedding footage, of course.” He shoots a look your way - oh? - which you only meet with one of your own. Two can play that game. Clutching onto the thin fabric of his button-up, you hold up your left hand with a mournful look. “He didn’t even get me a ring, though.”

Stammering for a lie, you swear you spot the tips of his ears burn rouge. “I-I said it’s in cleaning-”

“Oh- he got me a secondhand one, you see-” You smile, dig your own grave Toji Fushiguro. 

“It was vintage-”

“And now he’s lying-”

“Fucking hell-”

The stall owner bursts into peels of glee, clapping her wrinkly hands. “Ah, you young ‘uns really do remind me of my husband and I.” Before sternly wagging her finger, “I expect you to come back here soon with a few little ones running around one day–!”

You’re grinning, sickly sweet at Toji. “Of course, unless I snip it off.”

Him, right along with a few cameramen, can only shiver.

Though, perhaps that was because of something else entirely. 

Because as soon as you’re finishing up with the lovely stall owner, tipping her generously, the coastal wind picks something frosty in it.

Forcing nearby windows to slam, the flickering streetlights to dim. And for your newly-made friend to look up at the darkening sky and furrow her feathery brows, “Well, looks like I best be heading back- we’re in for a storm.” She rapidly starts furling in her stall, “You two better get going too- my home’s nearby but for the entire group…” She looks over your expansive team of cameras, “There’s an inn just down the street if you’d like?”

One of the producers, who’d been silently observing until now, jumps at the chance. Hastily jotting down the location as he makes a few calls to the studio-

You didn’t even want to know what that was about.

Good television, you presume.

“It’s just a little ways away.” Toji’s holding a palm over his line of sight, in the direction of where the old lady had said. A light drizzle was just starting to kiss down on your figures, “We should make it if we run.”

You’re looking down at the slick cobblestone, then at your heels, having been forced into one of your best pairs by Utahime. “Right…run.”

Toji looks at you for a second. Then at your heels. Back at the distance of the inn. A multitude of emotions before he closes his eyes and groans. 

“Get on.”

“Wha-”

You’re speechless, only staring onwards as the big, bad Toji Fushiguro crouches in front of you with his shoulders bared. Beefy arms braced behind him, gruff voice calling out- “Get on then, or m’leaving you here to be drenched.”

He was…offering to piggyback you?

Him? 

You huff, mouth opening to reject- when a particularly heavy splash of a raindrop makes you shudder. Fuck, the universe really wasn’t on your side today.

Bracing two hands on top of his deltoids, you could already feel the firmness of his muscles underneath. Legs bracing on either side of his kneeled figure, “Y-you just want me on you.” It’s the only thing you can get out before he’s standing up- and fuck, was it high from where your feet dangled, held up by his steady forearms.

Held up easily.

Toji turns his sharp side profile to you and grins, “Oh yeah? How’d you know, doll?” And you jolt once one of his rovering hands push down where the fabric of your dress was riding up your thighs. “Easy, easy. You’re not so bad when ya aren’t hurling insults my way - almost.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” It’s hard not to be distracted by the minty scent of his cologne, soft curls of Stygian hair tickling your nose. “You’re not so bad when you’re not a sleaze. This is almost…sweet.”

“Did it hurt ya to say that compliment?”

“Worse than passing a kidney stone.”

“Oh- oh, get a shot of this.” One of the numerous executives calls out once Toji’s bracing you carefully in his arms. “They’re going to eat this up–!”

A brilliant grin breaks across your date’s face, and you already know what he’s thinking. “Would be a lot sweeter if we didn’t have all these damn cameras, huh?” Soft breath striking your features, “Ready- set-”

“-go!”

The last things you’re hearing are the shutters of cameras, and the laughter of the stall owner in your ears. Mingled right with Toji’s rough chuckle- “See-” He’s panting out, legs moving faster, bumping you purposefully on his back so that you’re squealing. “Am your type now, doll?”

You wrap your arms tighter ‘round his flexing shoulders, and tell yourself that the way you burrow into the crook of his neck was because of the pouring rain. “Not at all–!”

And somewhere down your sprint, Toji’s heart stutters.

.

.

.

“Fuh-fuck–” Toji’s murky breath escapes in a pant, and you’re shoving him by his expensive shirt through the double doors of your suite. “You’re fucking feisty.”

“And you’re drenched.” You wrinkle your nose at the way the darkened fabric of his button-up glues to each ridge of his abs, his pecs. It was almost too much, you were almost too close. And you already knew that you’d be watching these episodes in particular once you’re out of this Island.

“Are you sure that you’re not the one-”

“You wish.”

As stars of the show you’d, expectably, been given the best room in the entire inn. Anything for that sweet, sweet juicy content that would have audiences frothing at the mouth - just as the cameramen were right now. 

Right behind you two.

Fighting over each other to get the best shot of Toji leaning over the mahogany woodwork of the entrance, disheveled. The first few buttons of his dress shirt unbuttoned. Slightly dazed. Slightly in disbelief.

“Tha’s about as far as you damn perverts can go.” He’s narrowing his eyes directly at the greedy lenses, palm steady on the doorknob. But those reality show cameras manage to catch the slight hint of a grin on his face. “Goodnight then.”

Taking one, long look at you.

“Because I certainly will be having a good night.”

It happens so fast that you don’t even have the chance to register it - Toji’s rough hand gripping onto one of your wrists. Before he jerks a bicep of his and tugs you inside, letting the door shut behind you two with a resounding slam!

Alone.

Finally alone.

No producers milking your arguments, and no cameras rolling for every single interaction. You’re stuck with only the two of you, and your labored breathing. 

Though, you’re never given the time for it to sink in - not before Toji has your back against the room’s wall, his arms caging your face, meaty thighs pinning down yours. Grin gleaming in the dim lighting, “Easy there, doll.”

“Mmm–” Leaning in, the plush curves of his mouth just lightly graze your own. His sinful scar scraping the outer edges of your lips ever-so-barely-

“Oh- oh, fuck.”

Toji’s feeling your mouth crash into his- and in a singular, split-second he’s addicted. Biting down on the soft insides of his cheek and still managing to let out a throaty groan of displeasure when you instantly break it off.

“No-” He’s gasping, one hand holding onto your throat. Chasing your mouth with a few sloppy kisses that leave your maw stinging, “Come back. Come back come back-”

But you have something else in mind. 

And - peering right up into Toji’s widened eyes - you’re falling to the velvety carpet with a dull thud!

Knees stinging with the friction, your eager fingers fumble with the zipper to his pants, “Don’t get- hah-” Steaming hot breath enough to make your date’s half-hard dick twitch, “-cocky about it-” 

“Pun intended?”

“What- no.” You’re murmuring, hazy pupils locked on the fat bulging outline you could make out between Toji’s legs. Each pulsing throb made the dark patch of precum on his dress pants grow, and you’re biting back a few wads of saliva from adding to it. 

He tuts, lips curling at the ends. “Cat got yer tongue?”

“Tch, no. You’re p-probably not even that…”

“Wanna bet?”

Grouchily, with a thumb pushin’ down the hem of his trousers, Toji tugs down his unbuckled pants. And he’s rendering you speechless. Stunned.

Layers of fabric unveiled just enough for the long, gleaming edge of his shaft to spring up and smack against his stomach. Smearing a wet line of pre that splurges from the end of his cock and all the way down to his balls. 

And he wasn’t just big - he was big.

With a plump, tannish mushroom tip that was trickling out sappy pre, making such a mess between your legs as you imagined what he’d feel like inside of you. The circumference was enough to make you quiver-

“O-oh.”

“What was that?” Toji’s cooing, knowing damn well just how big he really was. “What were ya saying? Something about me being…small, doll?”

And as if to prove his point, he’s holding the thick girth of his cock side-by-side to your face. Memorizing the pretty lil’ way your mouth drops at how much bigger the prolonged length of his shaft was, how he was just so thick.

Before you know it, you’re reaching up to measure him in your own hands. 

With a gulp, you find your palms cradling his bulky hilt n’ struggling to even close. “Fuck.” Squeezing your thighs together, you’re giving his cock an experimental tug. “Fuck, so this is why you’re such an asshole.”

Toji cracks one of his glassy eyelids open, “Wha’s- oh, just like that, doll- what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Because you’re so…big.” It almost tore at your pride to admit he was right. But how could you not when you now had both hands wrapped ‘round Toji’s swollen girth?

When he was polishing off your wrist with a gleaming sheen of his pre, the bulbous crown of his shaft twitching in the air. You’re whispering, purposefully so the gusts of your breath make Toji sensitively bite back whimpers. “Lets you get away with it- ngh-” Your lips pucker forward in a kittenish kiss, tongue gliding along the tender line of his slit. “Let’s you…fuck.” 

But whatever statement you wanted to make doesn’t leave the jumbled mess of your mind.

Because soon enough you’re sheathing Toji’s furious cocktip between your lips and sucking. Like a hot strawberry lollipop, his syrupy precum was coatin’ your mouth and just so thick.

Toji’s hands plastered onto your scalp, he’s holding your gorgeous face upright and thrusting. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck.” Head throwing back until it hits the aged wallpaper of the room, “Heh- guess I found a new use for this mouth, darlin’- fuck!”

Moaning, your textured taste buds glissade down his throbbing veins and make Toji shiver. And for all that he was babbling away, he was just gone.

“Easy, easy there, girl. Was just hah- just joking.” Padded fingertips jittery on your head, scarred lips trembling as you’re bobbing your head methodically up n’ down, up n’ down, up n’ down. Each piston leaves him stretching out the softened insides of your mouth like he’s branding his rotund tip, “Yer gonna fucking milk me dry, y’know?”

You’re raising a brow as if to say that that was exactly what he wanted. 

Nails clawing down the surface of his pale thighs, “Mmmf- want-” Tongue slipping further down his plumpened shaft, your jaw grinds against the skin near his pelvis. “Want more- want to make you haaah- cum.”

“That fuckin’ eager?” Toji pants, tilting his head from above. Just so hot n’ big it’s like he was melting with every greedy swipe. “Y’know I’m gonna make you cum at least five times more than me, right?”

Rolling your eyes, you’re only tightening your grip on his muscular legs. Letting the bounces of his pistoning hips strike your mouth, thick cock swabbing the insides of your cheek. 

Toji curses as he feels you relax your throat n’ stuff his girth even deeper, length bulging from the sides of your throat with a squelch–! “What? Don’t think I can do it?” Without any warning, without any hesitation, he’s gripping onto the sides of your neck with a free hand and squeezing to feel the veiny cylindrical outline spearing open your maw. Feeling himself through your throat. “Don’t think I can make you cum?”

Slobber streams down the side of your lips and you whine at the zig-zagging pattern his veins were making at the back of your throat. 

“Wait-” His brow quirks up, eyeing your watery peripheries. “Has he ever made you cum, doll?”

You already knew what ‘he’ Toji was referring to. 

Naoya was all for the cameras, and no steamy date night spent between you two had actually ended up as something you might have wanted to brag to your friends. And so you could only dart your eyes away- for but a mere nanosecond before Toji firmly pulls you by your jaw up to stare at him.

To meet his eyes, probin’ for an answer until you could only shake your head.

He barks out in shocked laughter, “No? No?” Confirming, as you’re gesturing an affirmation once more before he’s planting a fat rut into the cushy back of your mouth. “Fuuuuck, never made you cum…”

With the loudest, filthiest noise Toji forces his ravaged, red cock out of your mouth no matter how much you huffed n’ puffed otherwise. 

“Never made you- you-” Constantly repeating, he’s watching as a dollop of precum glitters down the side of your chin and groans. Almost turning his head away, almost wanting to look away because it was just too fucking much. But he couldn’t - he was hypnotized as you’re drinking in the sap of pre he’d left inside your mouth. Breathless, sweating. “Seriously never fucking made a gal like you cum?”

Pouting, you’re shaking your head. “No- I already told you, Toji. Why-”

He leans his head back to look at you through dark lashes, “If it were up to me you’d be cumming until you couldn’t anymore, doll.”

Eyes shuttering, you shiver at the feeling of two calloused palms sliding down your shoulders, sensually. Toji lifts you up like you weigh nothing- and before you know it, he’s carrying you in a few strides across the bedroom to sprawl you out across the satin bedsheets.

Hovering over you, “So-” He breathes out, raspy. 

The corners of Toji’s scarred mouth twitch up into something primal once he’s taking in the sight of you with your back pressed against the bedsprings. Mouth-gaped, blinking. “-lemme show you how a real man fucks.”

“Oh- oh fuck.”

Your dress is torn off with a ruthless rip-rip-riiiip– and so are your flimsy undergarments. Toji’s hooded eyes widen as he’s taking in the translucent sight of your panties, soaked through until he’s making out the shape of your pussy.

Thumbing down the edge of your drivelling slit, “Open wider.” He taps your trembly thighs as you gasp n’ buck off of the creaky mattress. “Wider.”

Hands clasping the backs of your knees to smear yourself open like such a slut, “L-like this?‘

The bed sings in protest once Toji’s shifting himself further down, scrutinizing the precarious position you’re in. “Mm– wiiiider.” Tittering at the way you’re straining to, “C’mon now, no need to be shy.”

You’re mewling, body reacting to the utter shockwaves of Toji’s palm coming down to spank the outer edge of your pussy through your panties. “See?” Fuck- he’s just salivating at just how much wetter you’re growing, dripping straight through the cotton fabric. “She certainly ain’t shy.”

Wincing through a few tears, “Just- sh-shut up and ngh- make me cum then.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And in a split-second, Toji’s barely pulling aside your underwear with a sticky sluuuurp–! Pursing his plump lips to spit vertically between your puffy pussylips, your match can’t help but admire the cute, glistenin’ hole hidden between your folds. 

You’re hearing the last thing he murmurs—“Bon appétit.”

And then he’s pushing and pushing his face right between your legs until Toji damn near suffocates himself. Just a singular swipe of his lengthy tongue, gluing all the way till the rim of your entrance and he groans-

“Fuck.” Sounding out-of-breath, and it wasn’t even from a lack of respiration. He’s simply gaping open his ravenous maw and plastering himself to every inch of your cunt he could reach. “Fuck- fuuuuck.”

Slightly concerned, you’re tugging on the edges of his black bangs. “T-Toji?” Harder, when it doesn’t make him even budge. “Are you-”

“Don’t-” Toji cuts you off, and his thick eyebrows knit like he couldn’t spare the time to even respond. Only clinging onto the sides of your hips so that he can pull you halfway down the bed and stick his slimy mouth even deeper. “What the fuck- you’re so fucking-” Another wad of spit hits you like a bullet, “-sweet.”

And he was addicted.

Simply addicted, it’s almost animalistic the way that Toji’s ridged taste buds were poking n’ prodding between your bloated pussylips.

Honed in on squeezing between your sloppy hole, he’s feeling you clench your cute insides ‘round him and twitches. “Easy- easy now.” Softly, he strokes the side of your waist, “Let your dear Toji get in there-”

“Just shut up and eat me out-” Quivering, you’re pushing down on his head with all your might - and that seems to be the exact force that Toji wants.

To have your knees closing in on his clammy head, hips rutting off of the bedcoils with every wad of spittle that leaks from his lips. “Mmm- feisty.” And just as the curly edge of his tongue slithers between your cunt, Toji’s right thumb drifts upwards to sliiide over your clit. To make you shriiiill out. “C’mon tell me that again. Again.”

“Ngh, f-fuuuck-” You’re throwing your head back, pupils whirling in stupid circles again and again with every swipe of his tongue. “Just sh-shut up and eat me- hck! out.”

With a groan that breaks at the very end of his baritone, he’s bullying his mouth deeper. And you swear that you’re seeing Toji’s powerful hips come down to hump the plush end of the bed, “Shiiiit, yeah. Love it when you boss me ‘round, doll. Now how about telling me how good it feels.”

Good.

So, so good. 

Every stroke of his silvery mouth had you rendered near-speechless, and as a few more solid inches of his muscle eases past your folds you find yourself whining. “Well for that it has to- hah- feel good. Doesn’t it- oh, fuck!”

You’re regretting those words the instant they leave your mouth. 

Because just then Toji’s shattering your sentence with a thorough plunge of his thick tongue, again and again. He’s fucking your poor, dewy insides like he’s rubbin’ them raw, “Wha’s that?” Snickering straight into your cunt at the way your mouth falls open with moans. “Wha’s thaaaat?”

“It’s- hck! it’s just-”

“I-i-it-” Toji guffaws, mockingly. That mean thumb of his pressing down on your clit like a button, just the pressure is enough to make you see stars. Lurching wildly with a yelp as he’s taking the opportunity to swat down where you were the most tender. “Stop runnin’ and put it on my face, dammit.”

“You don’t need to- fuuuck- breathe?” You’re asking, almost incredulously. 

“Not. At. All. Ma’am.”

And he couldn’t get enough - would never be able to get enough when you were so sensitive and reactive like this. 

So it’s with such a sleazy chuckle that Toji’s coiling his second hand around your leg, letting the knobbled tips of his index and middle poke against your wet slope. “But I want you to breathe- to scream, to tell me how hah- fucking good it feels.”

His fingers are just so thick that they can easily pry apart your filthy folds n’ stuff your leaky orifice. The circumferences poking your insides sooo deliciously wide open, the utter stretch is enough to make your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

Letting off a talkative squeeelch that he’s drunkenly nodding along to, “Mhm– yeah. S’good, huh?” Toji’s doubly spreading you wiiiide open with both his tongue n’ his digits, “C’mon, girl, tell me with those other ngh- lips, too. Not just these pretty ones—”

Hiccuping, “You’re so- you’re just so- fuck!”

“That’s it.” Repeating like a mantra, every pump of his barreling fingertips leaves your mind spinning. Your mouth agape, your pussy bein’ spanked constantly. 

Gasping, the crowned edges of Toji’s fingertips curve up into the roof of your cunt. Feeling all over your slimy walls to scour for your g-spot, “That’s it that’s it that’s it-” With a sudden, slamming thrust of his rugged fingers he’s burrowing deeply into your sweetest spot n’ holding it there. “And who’s making you feel this good- who?”

“Y-you- ngh-” Gnawing down on your lower lip like bubblegum, you have to fight to keep your wits about yourself. Riding his handsome face in sloppy drags, “Can you even- handle it, Toji?”

Because you could barely even hear him breathe, hear him pant. Only feeling the lavish velvety of his tongue salivate allll over your snug hole, jackhammering away in bursts in n’ out. “Oh, I don’t need to handle it.”

And in a sultry split-second, your weakened thighs are thrown over his shoulder and used as leverage to drag you down. Manhandling your cunt to smack against his mouth-

“You’re the one fucking falling apart.”

“And y-you’re pussydrunk–!”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Spitting. Glossing over your swollen pussylips with his drool, he sticks a third digit inside your rubbery entrance and watches as you squirm. 

Toji was pussydrunk all the way to his brain, oversaturated with the sweet heat of your core. Big fingers swabbing along your tenderest spots, his third fingerpad easily latches onto your g-spot. “Fuck yes- yeah, and I wanna hear juuuust how good I make m’girl feel.”

His girl?

“Yeah, my girl.” Shit- did you say that out loud? With heady eyes, he nods - and the vision is sensual enough that it almost has you cumming. “Got a problem with that?”

“N-no- fuck! It feels too good…”

With another three swats coming down on your pussy—smack! smack! smack! Toji has his tongue glued to your clit now, swirlin’ over a tiny ‘T’, then an ‘O’, ‘J’, and finally an ‘I’. Making you sound out every syllable-

If your mouth couldn’t formulate his name, at least your cunt was letting it out in the cutest gushes n’ wads of slick. Dripping down each side of his gluttonous mouth, “Out loud now, can barely even hear you over this pretty pussy.”

“Toj-”

Squeeeelch- “Theeere she goes.” Toji smirks, “See what I mean? You hafta be louder, doll. Say my name.” And he could feel every clench, every zap of tremors running down your spine. “Say my name n’ I’ll let you cum.”

Fuck- he knew you were oh-so-close to your orgasm before even you were.

“I-I’m gonna…” You’re gulping, feeling that familiar twist at the very bottom of your tummy. It was something hot and prickly which set your very teeth on edge, “I think m’close, Toji…”

“Ya think?” His tongue continues all those lewd ministrations, and no matter how much you were rutting and curvin’ your spine - it wouldn’t make him even budge. Not even an inch. “Let me hear it. Who’s making you feel this good?” 

Again and again, he’s spelling out your name until you’re defeated. Until all you can do it speechlessly mouth those very syllables on your own tongue, dappled with a flood of saliva at his twirlin’ patterns. “T-Toji-”

“Louder.”

Faster. Harder.

“Toji-”

Thump thump thump his digits scrape your g-spot, the end of your cervix. He’s leaving a few battered bruises that have you quaking all the way down to your bones, tongue flickering just to tease you out of your mind.

It’s almost like he wants to cut you off. 

And there’s another slap on your pussy, another snicker. “Now how about a-” Fuck- he barely even had the patience, the sanity to pull his glistening features back far enough to speak. “-a ‘Toji, pleeeease—?’”

“F-fuck you.”

Smack!

Just as he punctuates with his relentless tongue, “T, O, J, I- what’s that speeell?”

And suddenly you’re keening, hips lurching off the bed to let his tongue ruin you further than you thought possible. No one had ever bruised your most favorite spots to this extent, made you ever repeat something like a broken- “Toji- ple- oh.”

“Mm– not good enough, how about ‘Toji, pretty please?’”

Soon enough, you swear you’re registering a fourth of his fat fingers reach for the bruised spot of your bundle of nerves. Thumping away like he didn’t care no matter how much his wrist ached, how much his sharp jawline was grinding against your slope. Lips swollen by now- “C’mon now. C’mon- let the fuckin’ cameras hear for all I care.”

You’re shattering, “Toj- ngh- Toji, p-pretty please—!”

And it’s the only thing you can manage, like a constant broken mantra.

Like a prayer again and again in your wailing breathy tone whilst Toji fucked you through your explosive high. And he had his entire face plastered to your gushing cunt like it was stuck with adhesive, tongue swabbin’ all over.

The sizzling ridges of his taste buds were so scalding against the tip-top of your clit. Letting his extensive muscle repeat that T-O-J-I just so you mewl. “Toji- cum—ing- ngh, m’cumming m’cumming.”

“I know.” Rough fingertips strike the side of your pussy’s slope, mouth rovering leisurely between your legs to fuck you with everything he had. With everything he wishes was his long, aching cock. “Mmm, use me. Ride my face with that fuck- pussy like you own it, why don’tcha?”

With a mewl, you’re trying to despite the limpness of your limbs. Hips raising off of the sticky sheets with no rhythm or rhyme, you’re getting yourself off to the nuzzle of Toji’s straight nose bridge against your clit. “I-I am.”

He grumbles, “Not hard enough- where’s my feisty girl?”

“Well- fuuuuck- how do you expect me to- oh.” And you can’t even finish your train of thought before a particularly hard thrash of Toji’s fingers leave you cross-eyed and babbling stupidly. 

Again and again. 

Cumming on his tongue - honestly, if he were any lesser man then he’d be creaming himself just from the sight of you all pretty and shaking like this. 

A pathetic sob escapes your throat as your walls registering the pure stretch of his pummeling digits. Four long fingers tautly pulling your channel to the maximum, precisely ruinin’ your g-spot - it’s like he was trying to make you cry. “Is it- nghh really necessary to have four?”

“Heh-” Purposefully, he’s scissoring two of his rude digits until your pitch reaches a fever point. The pangs of your high leaving you wrung and dry. “Gonna hafta stretch you even wider if you’re gonna even think of taking all of me, darlin’.”

You’re marrying your brows with a stubborn pout, “But I could take all of you.”

“Oh?” Toji perks up in interest, and the grin that stretches his scarred lips is almost feral in nature. “Wanna bet?”

The words sound familiar - but right now you’re way too far gone in your melty mind to even think about recalling from when and where. The only thing you can do is to nod-

“Bet.”

And Toji - oh, mean, mean Toji Fushiguro - dares to swirl out a soppy final swipe of his name on your fluttering hole. Snagging just the end of your pretty entrance in a sweet goodbye, before he puts your soaked panties back in place with a sharp snap!

Grinning—“Anything for you, ma’am.”

It’s just then that Toji takes off his snug shirt of your favorite color - pop! pop! pop! 

And you could feel your mouth unfastening further n’ further with each button tugged free, because oh- you’d seen Toji lounging shirtless ‘round the villa. Fighting against yourself to not look too close lest he caught you staring. 

But seeing him like this was what made your heart race.

Because he was oh-so-naturally chiselled, with such curvaceous pecs that heaved with each pant. Washboard abs glistening with a thin sheen of perspiration, a bead of sweat drips down his temple and down, down, down to his navel. 

Disappearing into the curly black happy trail that decorated his hilt. 

Toji wraps a rough hand around his base and gives a good pump, peeling off the rest of his trousers. Slapping down the tender, veiny underside, “Then I better hear you takin’ it ngh- all like a good fuckin’ girl, yeah?”

“Tch-” You’re leaning up on your elbows to take a better look, watching in awe at how big his girth looked pulsing between your pussylips. “S’not even th-that big- oh, fuck!”

‘Not that big’ your ass.

Toji fits in the large, pinkish circumference of his cock, and it’s just so easy to plug up your tight fuckin’ hole. Just a single taste of that sinful streeeetch and you were babbling with no sound–

“Oh- oh, my-”

“Ngh- f-fuck.”

Your eyes snap wide open, “D-did you just stutter, Toji?” You find yourself exhilarated, and in response Toji’s snapping his hips deeper with such a guttural groaaan. But it’s still not enough to make you forget- “No- ngh, I swear you did.”

“So what?” 

You’d just made the infamous Toji Fushiguro stutter. 

And you swear that Toji’s husky bass had turned strained, had turned broken. “S-so fucking what?” The first few inches of his swollen cock pumps in a few inches and he’s finding himself thrusting- just bare, rapid half-thrusts like he was out of control. “Let’s see how- ngh- articulate you are then, huh?”

“Wh-what do you-”

He slaps a hand down on your crowned scalp, “I said what I said.” Using the force to hold your restless body still and push—“Count.”

There’s another menacing probe of Toji’s swole, reddened tip and you find yourself gasping for air. He was just so thick inside that every tiny buck made you go wild at the feeling of his veins. 

Toes curled, you just looked so cute being fucked dumb underneath him like this. And he can’t help but let out something that sounded like an airy bout of laughter as Toji plows on- “Count. Fucking count f’me, doll.”

You didn’t need to ask what.

“One-” Because he was already filling you up with the winding lines of his veiny cock, with every thorough inch that made you whimper. “Th-three?”

“Awww, s’it really feel that ngh- good?” Toji coos out at your poor answer, hiking up one of his meaty, pale thighs. The change in angle leaves his split-ended tip crashing against the roof of your walls, “M’flattered. We’re only two inches in, darlin’.”

“Two?” You gape.

If this was two then you might as well never see the light of day before you take all of Toji’s proud inches.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Toji himself was rutting away- sloppily, sensually. Every split-second his cock wasn’t fully stuffed inside your heated cunt made him ache, and he’s thumbin’ apart your tight folds to stretch out your hole. “C’moooon— keep counting. D’you need any help?” With false concern, he takes such laaaanguid glides of beating girth. “You could like this oooooone, twooooo, threee, f-” 

“I-I know how to fucking count-”

The scarred edges of his lips curl upwards, “Oh yeah? Then where’s the feisty gal that said she could take it- a- fuuuuck.”

Ruthlessly, you claw your nails down Toji’s broad back, feeling the shifting of his muscles underneath. “What was that?”

He narrows his verdant irises, “Take it all- fuck, stop squeezin’ like that-” It fucking felt like heaven to have his pre-glazed tip mazing in so deep, the very top of his blushing shaft acting like a spotlight that was spearing your walls open. 

Again and again and again. 

The slick-leaking orifice of Toji’s cock stuck near your poor g-spot and left you mewling. Batting your teary lashes up at him in a way you knew would make him twitch deep inside, “But you said you wanted me to take it- all.”

Your moans were pitched so prettily, like his favorite song. And every syllable spilling out of your mouth left Toji grabbing onto your throat and pulling you down like a glorified ragdoll. 

You’re grinning, “And I want it allll, Toji-” Babbling away stupidly- shit, you were so cockdrunk right now. Addicted to the sheer size of him molding your clingy walls, “Can’t help but s-suck it all up.”

“Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.” Your date groans, utterly wrecked. With a thumb squeezing past your puffy core, he gnaws down on his lip and watches at the sultry way your saccharine cunt was milking his inches. Glistening. Winking as you squeezed for more, more, more. 

And before you can revel in your victory of breaking him, Toji spanks his gleaming palm down on your drivelling slope. Thwack! “Don’t think that e-excuses you from havin’ ta count, sneaky girl.”

Huffing out a whine—“F-fine. Ngh- Five?”

“Six now.”

And he was still going. 

Still mercilessly gliding a few thumping veins down your walls, “Seven-” You’re failing to catch your breath, the stretch was just incredible. Almost as if you could feel the globular mushroom top of him poke into your very lungs. “Eight- nine-”

“Fucking—” There’s a loud, sappy sluuuuurp on the very last mindless rut that Toji’s gifting you with. All the way from the probin’ curve of his tip, to the unruly hair soaked on his base. “-ten.”

Bottoming out.

You weakly mutter, “I t-told you I could take it all.”

It was so much- so much that Toji could easily hover his free hand down on your stomach and feel the cute lil’ tummy bulge he was fucking into you.

The tummy bulge that he was clashing against your cervix with; wet, thudding kisses of his cock on your cervix. “So you did.” He wafts a few digits down on that bump and salivates, “Heh, wanna bet that I can make you squirt, doll?”

“Prove it.”

“S’that a challenge?”

“A threat if you don’t.”

“Ohhh, I’m so scared.” Rudely, Toji’s right hand tightens on your throat to make the top of your head feel all heady. And his slithering left hand roams down to pinch your neglected clit, “Are you scared?”

“I-” The confused response is barely formulating in your throat, before your glazed eyes follow his line of sight n’ find Toji locked in contact with your over-stuffed pussy. 

He was talking to her instead.

And immediately, all the breath vanishes from your lungs just as soon as he’s giving your cervix a good drilling. Pounding you into the bedsprings like he was furious, like he was trying to get your core to squelch out the loudest sexual noises. “Yeah? Yeah, you are?” The fingertips tuggin’ on your clit move down your slit, “S’that why you’re shivering this much?”

You were just trembling- “Just sh-shut up and fuck m- oh.”

“What’s that?” Both you and the experienced bedsprings were shrilling out in unison, and every slip of Toji’s vein-covered shaft made you lose your damn mind. “Care to repeat that for your Toji?”

You gasp, “Fuh-fuck you.”

“I’m fucking you.”

And it’s just so hot, so hypnotic how your velvety walls kept clenching ‘round him. Toji’s spine arches as he’s carving out heart-shaped lil’ bruises all the way at the bottom of your pussy, pump after pump.

He can’t stop himself from sliding his tongue between his teeth n’ trying desperately to stop the thin trail of pussydrunken drool leaving him. “You- you know- s’funny…” From trying to stop those exact words from escaping him. “S’funny I-”

You blink your teary lids and look up at him in a way that makes him shiver- “Toji–?”

And when you say his name like that-

“…I wanted to do this-” It’s all that Toji can get out before the rational part of his brain left forces his right hand to leave off your neck and clap his prattling mouth shut. To fight the way you’re trying to tug it off - unsuccessfully. 

Oh-so-embarrassed right down to the blushing with the tips of his ears that you’re finding him weakened. That you’re finding yourself able to push his muscular body down with a firm shove, flipping you two over.

You arch your ready hips and start riding your date at a frantic pace, slapping the cheeks of your ass down on his pelvis until his skin scorches rouge. “What’s that, Toji–?”

“I’ve always wanted to- fuck-” He swears, eyes drooping down nearly shut as you keep riding him angrily. 

Before you can stop it, one of Toji’s beefy hands shoots out to find purchase back on your neck. Squeezing. Manhandling you to grind down harder on his furiously aching cock, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you. A-always. Ever since I hah- first saw you in the villa, in that pretty lil’ dress.”

You’re reeling with his confession - and by the massage of his abs plastering against your front. Toji was built just perfectly for your body, and every figure-eight of your hips makes his happy trail scratch your clit. “So- so then why did you just- spill a drink and run away-”

“Didn’t know how ta talk to the woman of my dreams.” He admits, dopey smile smearing across his spit-glued lips. “Messed up- accidentally spilled a drink n’ ran out of ngh- mortification. How pathetic is that?”

And through it all, you’re seeing the way the flush at his ears extends to his high cheekbones. 

How…cute. 

Pre slips down in creamy dollops between your thighs and sticks them with each other, Toji’s left hand resting on your hips to guide you. Pussydrunken. Out of control. 

“How I wanted to t-talk to you- to haaaah- feel you-” And then he wasn’t just taking your sloppy pace, he was adding to it. With loooong, slurping strikes of his throbbing cock that meet your cadence, “Wanted to see how you’d moan. How you’d clench- fuck-”

He sounded absolutely crazed.

Mouth falling open with gasps, darkened eyes locked on the pattern of your hips. That very familiar pattern. “Are you-” Tone higher. Baritone shattered. “Are you writing your fucking name?”

“Well, we have been paired up now—” You’re admitting, coyly. “S’mine.”

And the only thing you’re getting is a firm planting of his hand on your ass, letting the slap ring across the room. “Write mine.” If you didn’t know any better, then you’d have said that Toji was pleading. Whimpering. “C’mon- c’mon, my darlin’- write mine?”

Pretending to think, “Only if you ask nicely.”

And just then Toji cracks a smirk-

Barely letting your eyes adjust to the attractive expression on his face before he’s mazing his long cock between your walls. Hitting your g-spot dead-on- “S’this nice enough?” He’s slobbering, feral enough that his candied brain only wants to bash n’ bash his pulpy mushroom tip against your favorite spot. “Fucking- fuck, c’mon now.”

“Toji—” You can only whine his name, struggling to match his needy tempo. 

“That all ya got, girl?”

There’s a heat near your clit where Toji’s scalding fingertips are starting to squeeze once more, urgin’ you onwards. Grunting, “Seriously- c’mon c’mon c’mon-” Faster. Sloppier, the palm stuck to restraining your throat is all he needs to move your body ‘round. 

To have your jerky hips drawing a lecherous ‘T’ - just how he likes it. 

“Oh, fuck!” You’re yelping, feeling those familiar sparks of electricity start to build up down your spine. “Don’t think m’gonna last-” 

Toji’s nodding in satisfaction, “There we go there- now my favorite-” The ‘O’ has his vein-decorated shaft stirrin’ inside of you, every puffy ridge filling up your nooks and crannies. Then comes the ‘J’-

“Toji- Toji, mmm, please.”

Stretching you out so widely agape that your vision splotches with white as soon as he’s finishing off - a pointed, thorough ‘I’ that directly thrashes against the door to your womb. Knocking you around from the inside, carnally. Primally. “Heh- spelt my name, my doll.”

You’re cumming - you’re cumming then, and it hits you so hard that you’re doubling over his swole front. Mouth gawking in awe- “Cum-cumming- ngh- fuck-” 

Drowning in your wave of bliss, your cunt emanates the most sloppy squelches as you fuck back n’ forth. Dragging out each peak of your high down his throbbing length, Toji can only watch in pure hypnotization. 

Mossy eyes shining, mouth parted. 

Mind static, you barely even realize what you’re doing when one of your hands leap forward to clasp Toji’s neck the same way he was holding onto yours. Nails digging into his clammy skin with each crash of his probing cockhead - you purse your pretty lips and spit between his pretty lips.

Toji gasps, maw hanging widely.

And it’s enough to make him cum.

Just from that. 

“You- you made me- fuck!” He slurs out, head dropping back into the pillows once he’s pumping you with stringy wads of cum. 

Thump-thump-thumping all the way to drench the back of your womb, each slip n’ slide of his leaking shaft makes you keen. He’s fucking you through your high just as much as he was pumping you till you were overspilling.

With a whine, you’re resting your head on top of his heaving pecs, letting spit puddle out of you like a hose. 

And at this point, you didn’t know who was more gone - you or Toji. 

Who was splashing his dewy wet sap into you until your pussy formed a cute lil’ ring surrounding his base, feeling the treacly cum drip down his shaft like syrup. “Swear you’re gonna be the death of me-” He’s chanting, beefy arms looping around your waist to crush you to his abs. “Gonna be the- the- oh.”

And it takes Toji only one bat of your teary lashes – one split-second - to flip the two of your exhausted bodies over. Going for a second round. He’s rutting the drenched tufts of his happy trail down on your clit, he’s throwing your legs over your shoulders to bend you down into the sloppiest mating press possible. 

A mating press.

A mating press that has him honing his ivory knots of cum deeper inside you, pinpointing the door to your womb. Again and again until you can only throw your head back and take it- 

“Sh-shit-” You manage out through bawling whimpers, fists tightening on the silken sheets.

Something that Toji doesn’t fail to notice - he quickly intertwines his much-bigger hands with yours. Pinning you down in a way that made your heart race- “M’paired with you now.” He softly huffs, burrowed cock probing with each syllable. “You. Me. So let me- haaaah- let me start over, my darlin’?”

Scarred lips tickle the sides of your temples, and he makes you whine with a thumb poking between your puffy folds. Pushin’ back each stubborn, leaking ounce of cum- 

“So stop wastin’ yer time on bastards who don’t deserve it. Let me choose you. Let me- ngh- romance you. Let me make you happy- oh, fuck, I’d give you the whole entire universe, just say the word.” Toji babbles on, and he doesn’t know whether it’s the heat of your cunt or simply you that’s made him so honest tonight. “Let me be yours?”

“Yes-” Your arms find their way around his neck, pulling him close for a lingering kiss. And the hulking man can’t help but feel his heart skip a beat at the way you two fit - two puzzle pieces, thought long lost. “Toji I- oh.”

Your mouth’s dropping into a perfect, sultry ‘oh!’ exactly as he’s pulling your second high out of you.

Sploshing out in thick, palpable waves of your glistening sap- Toji feels the way your cunt floods his pelvis and grins. “Told you I’d make you squirt.”

But you’re barely even registering that right now, barely even feeling anything but the rapid-fire zaps of pleasure invading your lower half. Peaking with pump after pump of Toji’s swollen cock, pushing you through your euphoria.

Departing slick waves of wispy white cum, he was damn near cumming dry just from the sight of you squirting all over his girth.

Drifting a thumb over to collect the wadded-up froth of white, he’s sloooowly pushing the excess back in.

Your mouth drops open as Toji starts up a lazy, loving pace just to watch his buttery mess of cum seep in n’ out of you.  “I th-think I remember something about you saying I’ll cum five times as much as you.” Toji gapes, and you feel the fatness of his tip twitch. “We’re still on number two, Toji…”

Oh, fuck.

And that makes rough, tough Toji Fushiguro blush. “Fuck.”

With such pliable ease, he leans over and bends you in half - all the way until your capped knees hit your tits, all the way until you burn with the delicious stretch. Full both inside and out, with his weight positioned over you. 

Toji’s mouth humming into your own—“Is it too soon to say the L word already, my doll?”

.

.

.

“They don’t even like each other.”

“I hear production’s been running wild since last night.”

“No, but seriously- I wonder if they made it out alive.”

The restless gossip in the villa had been a constant since you and Toji had left for your impromptu date last night, setting everyone at least slightly on edge for what was to become with the explosive pair.

Even Utahime’s looking at Shoko as the whirlwind of whispers rage on- to which she holds the other’s hand. “It’s okay, no one killed each other. Or got injured. Or argued.”  She pauses, “Scratch that last one. And maybe that second last one, too.”

“Not helping, Sho.”

Hell, even snobby, recently-recoupled Naoya looked displeased. And so was the gorgeous new girl who’d left his sulking self to explore her connections - something about ‘being hung up’ over you.

Who’d have thought?

And it certainly was a morning of surprises, it seems - even for a show like this.

Because whilst your two friends ponder over how they should bug the camera crew for details, and Naoya knocks himself back to his senses, saunters in the center of drama themselves.

You and Toji. Hand-in-hand.

And from your breezy pace on the walkway to the villa, you can hear Utahime squeal— Shoko’s fond eyeroll following not long after. 

“Is it that obvious?” You’re worrying over at Toji, who only raises an amused brow. 

It’d been utter chaos this morning trying to gather your wits while your legs were still sore, and every producer had been gawking as the two of you not-so-guiltily waddled out of your suite.

“My darling, yer covered in bruises, your walk’s more of a limp, your lips are still swollen- and fuckin’ pretty.” He raises your sweetly looped hands, pressing a soft kiss on the back of your palm - just for you, but caught by cameras in every direction that’s meant to leave fans rabid. And a particular unpaired Naoya sour-faced, of course. “And then there’s this.”

Begrudgingly, “Your fault, by the way.” 

“I take full responsibility.” Toji shrugs, faux-nonchalance with the blush dusting his ears. “S’long as you’re mine, my doll.”

“Corny.”

“Cold-hearted.”

“Idiot.”

“Still yours.”

You could take that - you’d both be taking this season’s winning prize, anyways.

A/N. Couldn’t stop thinking of how I’d only go on one of these shows if there was a man like Toji there and here we are-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[heedeungism]

𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

•°. *࿐ PAIRING ― riki nishimura x fem!reader •°. *࿐ SYNOPSIS ― in which riki is smitten with you and your sharp tongue. •°. *࿐ GENRE ― one-shot, friends-to-???, fake dating, angst, fluff, crack, rich kid au, highschool lacrosse au •°. *࿐ WORD COUNT ― 20.9k (yeah, i went kinda crazy) •°. *࿐ CONTENT WARNING(S) ― violence(fighting), cursing, high school, mc has a shitty ex-bf, cheating(not riki obviously), almond grandma(mentioned), a singular cigarette is smoked, mc is shorter than riki, riki can also pick mc up, suggestive jokes, kys jokes, mc has hair (texture and length unspecified, but can be put up), objectification of girls(not riki tho), mc objectifies boys back, dreamy riki, not suggestive or smutty but mc is absolutely a horndog, mc is her own worst enemy, mc using riki to get back at her ex but he likes it, i did not edit this lmao •°. *࿐ EXTRA NOTES ― inspired by euphoria and my hs experience, riki is a loser and a lover, implied that mc is 18, eunseok(riize) is an absolute asshole in this sorry guys i needed a villain, enha are all in the same grade, mc wears makeup and has a manicure of an unspecified length, mc has sick lore, also shoutout to my hg @1ntaks for digitally holding my hand thru this <3 •°. *࿐ SOUNDTRACK ― busy woman by sabrina carpenter, hiss by megan thee stallion, low by sza, i did something bad by taylor swift, without you by lana del rey, agora hills by doja cat, girls like me don’t cry by thuy, only girl (in the world) by rihanna, safety net by ariana grande, snooze by sza

part two

AT THE BEGINNING OF 2024, you lost for the first time in your life.

Finding your boyfriend of two years making out with a girl you know too well as Lee Nayeon, your best friend, on the Carrara marble countertop of your family home that you had trusted her to take care of for eight days while you were in New York was not on your New Year’s resolution. You had planned to stay to see the Times Square Ball Drop with your mom and stepdad, but you realized you’d prefer to spend it with your boyfriend.

He didn’t seem to share the same sentiment, considering he has his tongue down the traitorous bitch’s throat. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

She screams, both of them startled by your appearance and scrambling off of each other. You feel an urge to slam her face into the precious marble they were defiling, but you stay where you are. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It isn’t what you think, babe—“

The speed at which Nayeon’s eyes filled with guilty and horrified tears fuels your rage, and behind you, Bahiyyih appears.

“Look who’s back—oh?” She stops beside you, arm hovering to wrap around you until she sees what you’re seeing. “Eunseok? Since when were you back from Stanford?”

“Since he’s been fucking Nayeon, apparently.” 

The barbie-haired girl’s eyes widen, and as she looks between the two she notices the same things you’re painfully aware of. Nayeon’s smeared lip gloss, her tears, Eunseok’s undone jeans, and the sparkly residue on his mouth. “Oh…”

Nayeon’s whimper as she slides off the counter snaps you out of your daze, “You’re crying?” The angry tears forming in your eyes go unshed as you walk closer to her, “You fuck my boyfriend, and you’re fucking crying?”

Anger turns to fury when the boy in question gets between you and her, pleading to let him explain, his hand grabbing your elbow to pull you away, only for you to jerk away, “Okay, I won’t touch you, just let me explain—“

“How long?”

“What? Babe, this isn’t-“

“How long have you been fucking him?” Your question is directed at who you thought was your friend, who avoids looking at you as she silently weeps. Scoffing, you realize you won't get a straight answer and choose to reel in your urge to beat her face in with one of your stepdad's bowling trophies that’s on display a few steps away. “Get out.”

“Babe, let me—“

The attempts at holding in your temper are lost on you, quickly forgotten as you walk over to the fireplace, grabbing the fire poker hanging up and holding it up. Nayeon lets out a scared, oh my God, while Eunseok tries to calm you down, demanding you put down the weapon. Instead of that, you walk past them, out the front door, ignoring Bahiyyih’s, “No, no, no—”

Eunseok’s red Mustang sits prettily in the driveway, and you can hear him realizing what you intend to do, but it’s too late for him. You slam the poker down onto the hood of his car, “Get. Out!”

“You crazy bitch, what is wrong with you?!” He screams, and you find yourself screaming back.

“Take your side piece and get. Out!” You slam the poker down again, and in minutes he’s got Nayeon in the passenger seat and is peeling out of your driveway like it’s on fire.

If rage had a physical human form, you would be it. Clenched jaw, a deadly weapon in your hands, and a white-hot fury in your eyes that promised to make those two regret crossing you.

The amount of junk food you have consumed in the last week would’ve sent your almond grandmother into an early grave. Your other friends had been visiting as often as possible to keep you from being alone in your thoughts for too long, offering to take you out or go shopping, yet the thought of possibly seeing either of those backstabbing fuckers in public made you sick to your stomach.

Pride didn’t allow you to cry, so instead of sadness and heartbreak, which you definitely felt but would never admit to, you felt pure seething fury.

“So I’ve been thinking,” You take a drag from the cherried slim between your fingers, exhaling towards the sky as you lean against the side of the pool.

From her spot on the lawn chair sunbathing, Belle says. “You can’t kill them.”

“I can, you’re just a party pooper.”

“The party should not include going to prison for murder.” Her statement makes you roll your eyes, “You aren’t built for prison, babe.”

“Well, that I can agree with,” You sigh, the water shifting around you as you turn to face her, arms resting on the edge, “but that wasn’t what I was thinking about.”

Pausing, you take one last drag from your cigarette before smothering it into the stone, “One of the things about him that pissed me off to no end was his temper, right?”

Remembering the many conversations and rants had and heard, Belle nods, “Mhm.”

“So what if I date someone I know will piss him off?”

“If that’s what you think will help you heal, then…” She trails off, and you groan.

“Why can’t you just say it’s an amazing idea?” 

“Girl…” Sighing, she asks, “I just don’t think a third party should be involved.”

“He already got one involved, so why can’t I?” 

Making a face that screams, well you’ve got a point, Belle then adds, “I think you should find someone who pisses him off but they should be aware of your plans. Don’t lead someone on.”

A cunning smile grows on your glossy lips, “I’m not.”

“Oh, so you already have someone in mind?” She gathers with a growing smile of disbelief, “Please tell me it isn’t one of his frat brothers.”

You grimace at the thought, “Ew, no. The only one of them remotely dateable is Wonbin and that’s meeting the bare minimum standards.”

Shrugging, Belle offers, “At least they're hot?”

“Hot does not equal dateable, plus I hardly believe any of them would date their friend’s ex anyway.” Shaking your head, you push yourself out of the pool and sit on the ledge to let yourself drip dry, “What about one of the lacrosse guys?”

“You say no to a frat boy but not a lacrosse player?” 

“I know, I know, but at least I have eyes on them instead of hoping they're being loyal in another city.” You put a hand above your eyes to block out the sun, “Me knowing the coach kind of helps, no?”

“If loyalty is your goal then good luck, bitch.” Belle snorts, sipping from the pink bendy straw sticking out of her Dr Pepper bottle, “Lacrosse players are mansluts.”

“I know that, but…” You push yourself to stand, grabbing the towel Belle holds out when she hears the sound of your feet leaving the water, her eyes still closed and covered by a pair of Prada sunglasses, “I have a few options.”

“The only, as you put it, ‘remotely dateable’-“ she emphasizes those two words with quotations using her perfectly manicured fingers, “-lacrosse players are Jay and Sunoo. Jay is taken and Sunoo friendzones every apretty girl he meets.”

“I don’t know, Jungwon’s cute.” You think aloud, placing a hand on your hip, “He’s just a tight ass.”

“And therefore undateable.” She finishes for you. “What about the baseball team?”

“Eunseok plays, I’m trying to not be reminded of him.”

Belle hums in acknowledgment, “Let me look at the Lacrosse team's insta.”

You pull the claw clip out of your hair as you wait, patting your body dry until she holds out her phone for you to look at. Taking it with your dry hand, you examine the team photo.

You recognize the majority of them, rolling your eyes at a few familiar ones before your eyes land on one particular member of the team you don’t recognize. “Who’s number 10?”

Handing it back, you walk over to the oversized Hall & Oates shirt you’d stolen from your brother’s room(he left a lot of his clothes when he moved out, something about ‘finding his style). You hear the tap of her nails on the screen a few times before she answers, “Some guy named Niki? Or Riki? He doesn’t have any posts on his profile but in the photos he’s tagged in he’s called either of those names.” She gasps, a cackle escaping her lips, “Some of these are his mom tagging him in baby photos, please come look!”

Leaning over, you peek at her screen, “Oh my god, I would die.” You can’t help but giggle as she scrolls, this woman’s Instagram is a gold mine of childhood photos of this guy. “Okay, I feel weird looking at his baby photos, show me the other ones he’s tagged in.”

“On it.” Belle affirms, “Let’s go inside, too.”

“Okay, so-“ Belle stands before a whiteboard, one that your stepdad used to use before upgrading his office to have a massive one mounted on the wall, a pink dry-erase marker uncapped in her hands as she looks down at her phone for reference. After a quick text to the group chat, a brief summary of your plan was explained when everyone got to your house, and it seemed that everyone was invested. “-are we all in attendance.”

Jongseob is eating cereal in the white tufted chair in the corner of your room, Eunchae is in the bean bag, and Bahiyyih is on the floor between them, lined up like a good audience. 

“We’re making a pros and cons list for Riki Nishimura,” Belle announces, writing his name on the whiteboard as ‘Niki’ between the two names, “feel free to interject when you have a pro or con to list.”

“Con,” Jongseob raises a finger with his mouth half full, swallowing before saying, “His nickname is stupid.”

“Opinions don’t count, stupid.” Eunchae rolls her eyes, earning the finger from the boy in the chair.

“But like, why is his nickname Niki?” Hiyyih asks, and Jongseon lets out a nearly intelligible ‘thank you!’.

“I assume it’s because there's another Riki on the team,” Belle guesses, and the three nod. You sip the Baja freeze you’d had them pick you up on the way to your house and hum.

“Make an ‘unsure’ column,” you instruct, and she does so, writing ‘nickname kinda dumb’ under it.

“Pro, he’s on the Lacrosse team so he’s fit,” Belle starts, writing it on the board under its labeled column.

“Con, he’s on the lacrosse team.”

A chorus of agreement accompanies it to its column.

“Pro, from the photos he’s tagged in and the team photo, he’s at least 6’.” Eunchae adds, Belle nods and writes ‘tall’.

“How can you tell?” Jongseob asks, and she rolls her eyes like his question is the most idiotic thing she’s ever heard.

“Because I pass Heeseung in the halls from 5th to 6th period and in these photos, this guy looks a little taller than him.” She explains, and you hold a hand up when Jongseob opens his mouth to insult her.

“Con, no instagram posts.”

“Pro, I just found a pic from Jake’s insta and I can see him in the back. He’s got abs.” (Thank you, Bahiyyih.)

By the time the sun has set, the whiteboard is packed, the pros heavily outweighing the cons. You had even searched the large group chat you were added into on Snap in freshman year full of girls you barely know who dated around and kept each other informed, and found his name zero times. 

“I think he’s the one.” You sigh.

Jongseob snorts, pulling the cherry soda vape from his lips and asking, “Why do you think Eunseok will hate him?”

“He hates Lacrosse guys ‘cause he didn’t make the team, I figured it would hit a soft spot.” You smile and shrug.

“Hold on, the plot thickens,” Bahiiyih announces, eyes on her phone screen. “Do you guys remember that guy Nayeon had a crush on in freshman year?”

A chorus of confirmation causes her to grin, “I’m pretty sure it was this guy.”

You push yourself off your bed to peek over her shoulder at record speed, “No fucking way. How do you know?”

“I backread in the group chat, and she sent a picture of him, look!” She turns her phone for everyone to see, and from the slightly blurry and oddly angled photo that she obviously tried to take secretly, you can certainly see a resemblance, “Am I hallucinating, or is that him?”

“No that definitely looks like him,” Belle agrees, turning her head to face you with her jaw slack and a look, “He’s the one.”

“How are we gonna convince him to fake date you, though?” Jongseob asks, and you roll your eyes.

“Leave the planning to those qualified, Seob.”

You, all things considered, would call yourself a professional at annoying men. From years of experience before your brother moved out, you learned every which way to annoy him, and more importantly, boys in general. You are also smart enough to understand that his best friend, Jungkook, is your ticket to getting closer to the lacrosse team, aka Riki, even if you have to deal with Jake’s flirting and Heeseung’s annoyingly beautiful smile, you will get through it purely out of spite. 

When you get to school extra early the day before the semester is set to start, parking your car and turning your sights to where you knew he took the team to practice in the mornings, and where you knew he would be even if he and your parents got back from New York just last night. “A hoe never gets cold.” You mumble the chant to yourself over and over as you turn off your car’s engine and the warm air stops blowing. 

You curse rather loudly when you open your door and are met with a frigid breeze that makes your body clench to preserve its warmth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

With your school bag on your shoulder and a thick white puffy jacket lined with fleece that keeps your torso warm, you speed walk toward the field, which the student parking lot happens to be in relative close proximity to. 

The sight of you approaching is enough to stop a good half of the players in their laps around the field, a typical start to Jungkook’s diabolical training regimen. The distraction you pose catches the man of the hour’s attention, and when he turns to face the source, he seems shockingly displeased. With a barked order to keep running thrown at the stopped players, he turns to you again and asks, “What are you doing here?”

Your lips part in dramatic offense, “You seem unhappy to see me and I don’t appreciate it.”

Rolling his eyes and pulling two hotpacks from his bag on the ground and handing them to you, he repeats, “What are you doing at school so early?”

Shrugging, you shove your hands into your jacket pockets and glance at the team, catching the eye of Sunoo and winking as he passes by. “I’m bored and single. What better way to spend my time than watching lacrosse players train in frozen hell?”

Jungkook’s face tells you he’s far less than impressed, and he seems at a loss for words. You decide to let him in on your plan, not seeing any harm in doing so.

“Okay, I’m trying to ruin Eunseok's day, every day, by reminding him I have a hotter, taller, and more athletically skilled boyfriend than he ever was or could be,” You start, “And I’m calling in a favor.”

“What favor? You don’t do shit—“

“Okay then, tell me more about him or I’ll tell my brother about what really happened to his Audi last Christmas.” The Audi in question had a large scuff on the back bumper that Jungkook had paid you three hundred dollars to take the blame for, which while your brother was upset, you knew he’d be far angrier if he knew the truth. Jungkook knew that too.

If the cold wasn’t already doing the job, you would say he lost all color in his face. A sweet smile forms on your lips, and you take the moment of his speechless horror to take another glance at the team. 

When you meet the eyes of the familiar boy in a dark red hoodie with the number 10 on it you feel your face warm up involuntarily. Instinctively, you swallow the nervous lump in your throat, something that’s never happened to you, and quickly turn back to the coach (not before catching sight of the slight tug at the corner of #10’s plump lips). “So?”

Jungkook sighs, “Which one?”

“Number 10.”

Immediately, the man shakes his head, “Nuh-uh.” At the raise of one of your eyebrows, he quickly explains, “He’s one of my best players, I don’t need him being distracted by my best friend’s kid sister.”

You roll your eyes, “If you have a better option for me, then please, do share.”

“What about Jungwon?” 

“Tight ass,” You say barely a breath later, eyes watching said player jog past, lingering on his backside as he moves away, “In more ways than one.”

“Okay, stop.” Jungkook says, disgust on his face, “What about Taehyun.”

“He’s Dr. Evil and Jungwon is his mini-me, they’re both so strict they’d never agree.”

He makes a face, point heard, before suggesting one last player in a last-ditch effort, “Jak—”

“If the name Jake Sim leaves your mouth I’m setting your Mercedes on fire.” 

His mouth shuts automatically, and he sighs. 

“So, tell me about him.”

“Why don’t you go ask?”

You give him a look that read, don’t be fucking stupid.

“Ugh, fine. What do you wanna know?” Jungkook caves, blowing the whistle around his neck, signaling the team to start the next warmup, pushups. 

“What’s his favorite color?” You ask, obviously pulling his leg considering the grin on your face.

“Nishimura!” He immediately calls, and number 10 looks up from his position on the ground. You don’t look longer than a moment, your spine straightening up automatically when his eyes meet yours once again, “What’s your favorite color?”

You don’t look, but you can bet money that he probably looks confused considering your brother’s best friend tells him to ‘just answer the damn question’, and then you hear his voice. 

“Black.”

Fuck, this is bad. The little shit in you wants to say that black isn’t technically a color, that it’s the absence of such, but the thought of looking at him and saying something like that makes your palms go clammy and your heart beat out of your chest. His voice is deep, and with the exertion in it from the warmup, you think you might just have to throw yourself into an active volcano.

“Mine is green, coach!” 

“I didn’t ask, Huening.” Your lips flatten, your hand flying to cover your mouth as you try not to giggle. Instinctively, you look at Kai, whose ears have gone red in embarrassment, and you take pity.

“I like green too, Kai.” You say loudly for him to hear, and his head perks up to look at you.

“I like blue!” Jake pipes in, all too eager to include himself.

“Nobody asked, Jake.” Jay grunts, on his hundredth push-up and losing patience.

Jungkook blows the whistle again, “Burpees.”

“You’re a monster.” You muse, watching the team lose all faith in a heavenly being as they do what he says. Every jump grants you the sight of rock-hard abs, so you're not really complaining. 

“Stop ogling the team, it’s gross.” Jungkook hisses, “What else do you want to know?”

“Girlfriend?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Type?”

He makes a face, “I don’t know. He’s a teenager, probably anything that breathes in his direction.” 

“Age?”

“Turned 18 in December, the team threw him a pizza party.”

“Beginning or end of December?” You ask quizzically.

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook huffs, “Why does it matter?”

“I need to know if I’m dealing with a Sagittarius or a Capricorn. Please, please, tell me he isn’t a Capricorn.”

“Jesus Christ…” Thinking about it, Jungkook answers, “I think it was in the first week?”

A sigh of relief leaves you, “Thank god. I cannot stand an earth sign.”

“I’m an earth sign.” 

“And it took me ages to forgive you for that.”

“Okay, go away.” Jungkook shakes his head, obviously annoyed and desperate to get rid of you.

“But I’m not—“

“Nishimura.” Dread fills you, and before you can stop him from opening his mouth again, number 10 stands up.

“Yeah, Coach?”

“Walk this one to her car.”

Confusion is etched on his pretty face, but he nods, jogging over as you curse at Jungkook quietly enough for him and the lord to hear but not the approaching lacrosse player.

When he stands just a few feet away, waiting for you to start walking with him, you turn to face him and feel a jolt in your stomach. He’s tall. 

You already knew this but seeing it with your eyes is a different experience than seeing photos of it. Get a grip, bitch.

Offering him a condescending smile, a defense mechanism to keep yourself from humiliating yourself by showing how affected you are, you shoot your brother’s friend the finger and begin to make your way off the field.

You pass Riki, not even sparing him a look as you do so, but listening to make sure he’s following. With his much longer legs, it isn’t long before he’s walking just slightly behind you, not at your side but close enough for you to sense his presence. When you make it to your car in what felt like awkward silence to you but was probably nothing to him, you heave a sigh of relief when she unlocks and you open the door. 

Not sitting yourself inside yet, despite the cold and the fact your body hurts from it, you turn to face him.

“This yours?” He asks. God, that voice again.

You hum in confirmation, “Her name is Manon.” 

“Nice name.” He compliments, and you tilt your head, looking between his eyes and glancing down to his mouth every so often. He swallows almost unnoticeably, “What’s yours?”

Resisting the urge to ask if he truly didn’t know, you conclude that would sound far too conceited, and tell him your name. 

He tries it out, and you can see the tip of his tongue flick across his teeth before he says, “I’m Riki.”

“I know.” You say shamelessly, “You can go back to practice, now.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would think the slight smirk that tugs at his lips is of annoyance, but with the way his eyes look down your face every other second, you know exactly what you’re doing. He blinks, turning his body slightly to walk away, “Yeah.”

You wait until his back is to you to slide into your driver’s seat, quickly pulling your phone out to text the group chat.

bitchqueen: guys this is bad

bitchqueen: he’s HOT

bitchqueen: i can’t do this 

Glancing back up to see if Riki left, you sigh in relief when he’s nowhere to be found. You look back down when your phone dings. bellenotdelphine: eunseok bought nayeon a van cleef bracelet

bitchqueen: okay bitches im back

myrootcame2005: ur resolve inspires generations

Going back to school wasn’t so bad, or at least it isn’t as bad you thought it would be. You were the only licensed driver in your friend group, and as such you expected to have a full car every morning, picking up Belle first as she lived down the street, and then Jongseob and Eunchae, who grew up neighbors in a neighborhood you pass on the way to school. Bahiyyih usually gets a ride with her brother, though she does complain his truck still smells like the musky car freshener he spilled back when he got it.

After parking and putting on your shoes that you’d taken off because you hate driving with them on, you had Belle hand you your backpack from at her feet and the four of you exited the car into the frigid weather. “Jesus fuck, why is it so cold?”

Belle huddled by you as you sped walked to the school doors, where you finally took notice of the stares directed your way. Ignoring the staring was the easy part, having a freshman walk up to you and ask, “Hey, is it true you destroyed your boyfriend’s car with a crowbar?” was hard to avoid.

Belle seems ready to tell them to fuck off but you smile sweetly, “It was a fire poker, actually, and destroyed is a strong word. Also, who the fuck are you?”

You got in enough trouble with your parents when they found out, these people could at least get the facts right. When the 14 year old boy opens his mouth to answer, you make a face, “I don’t actually care.”

Ignoring that encounter, you would say it was a relatively normal day. AP classes already gave you packets and mounds of homework, but with the semester classes you took last year you only had 5 periods of the day before being allowed to go home, perks of being a senior, you guess. The fact almost every class you had was an AP class was a definite downside, though.

The only AP class you didn’t have happened to be Medical Microbiology, which you had dreaded to take but it was the same teacher you had last semester for A&P who loved you enough to exempt you from the final without you having to submit the form like everyone else, and luck was on your side it seemed because while you were seething to find that Nayeon was in your 5th period class, the sight of the seating chart and the name labeled next to yours made you decide to postpone ingesting whatever deadly chemical Mrs. Wilson had in her locked cabinet.

Nishimura, Riki

The short curly-haired woman seemed overjoyed to see you, of course, and like clockwork you handed her a small pink box containing her favored cookie from the shop down the road, earning yourself a nice sidehug. 

You know a way to a teacher's heart, which had made your high school experience better than most could imagine, though Mrs. Brooks from Pre-AP English freshman year was a cunt and you gave up on making her like you within the first month. Sitting down at your seat, which happened to be somewhat close to her desk, you were looking down at the packet she’d left stacked on the table by the door for students to take from as they came in when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Growing up with a brother gave you a good understanding of how boys worked, and when you saw no one in your periphery, you looked to the opposite side, seeing the familiar lacrosse player. You dread small talk, though when the late bell rings as he sits down, you thank the heavens you don’t have to. 

Moving your hair off your shoulder, you took a pink mechanical pencil from your matching pencil case as Mrs. Wilson started speaking.

“Hey.” He leans ever so closer, whispering to get your attention, “Can I borrow a pencil?”

The raised eyebrow you send his way makes his raise his own, and you roll your eyes, grabbing one of the orange ones you never used and handing it to him, when you notice his look between the two pencils, you say, “Can’t risk you taking one of my good ones.”

He rolls his eyes this time, but starts writing his name with it anyway. At first, he uses his right hand, but ten minutes into the lecture about the staining process, he switches hands.

It isn’t annoying until he starts intentionally brushing your elbow with his own, and you know it’s intentional because when the word you’re writing comes out jagged and you look at him, he has a smug look on his face while avoiding meeting your eyes, snickering softly when you erase the word you deemed too ugly to continue writing. You turn in your seat, facing away from him and rotating your paper with you as you cross one leg over the other, it was easier writing this way anyway.

With your new angle, you can see Nayeon glancing over every now and then in the corner of your eye. 

Now, to say your reputation wasn’t ruined but in fact reinforced by everyone finding out about what you did to Eunseok’s car, was a factual statement. You didn’t like the term ‘anger management issues’ which is what the therapist your mother made you see last year used to describe your behavior. 

In your humble opinion, Jaclyn Delvacchio deserved the bruise you left on her brow bone and is honestly lucky you didn’t get a good enough hit in before the history teacher pulled you off of her, maybe she should’ve kept her mouth shut about Eunchae’s braces.

Then, there was Kaley Graham in your freshman year, a sophomore who told you to stay away from your then-situationship, Eunseok, to which you responded to her threats by grabbing her head and slamming her face into the window of an active classroom. You thought the photos of her face smashed against it were funny, the school and your suddenly-present father did not.

So really, you’re already labeled a crazy bitch, violent, ‘untameable’(as you'd heard uttered by boys you wouldn't touch with a twenty foot pole). You might as well act like it.

When the bell rings 45 minutes later, you breathe a sigh of relief, finally time to go home.

You don’t notice he’s waiting for you until you’ve gathered your things and taken your keys out. He leans against his desk, waiting for you with observant eyes that land on the key-fob in your hand before moving up to your eyes. “Free period?”

You nod, “as are the next two.”

He whistles low as the both of you walk out, “I didn’t get any free periods, you’re lucky.”

“Lacrosse?” You ask, and he nods with a small grimace.

“And I failed Chem last year, so I’ve got to take it again.” He sighs, “I’m not great with all the math.”

“AP?” You ask innocently, and he snorts.

“God no. Regular.” He states, raising a brow as he adds, “Did you take AP?”

You hum, nodding, “Yeah.”

“So, if I come to you with a radiation equation, would you help me?” He asks in a way that almost feels teasing.

“It’s called a nuclear equation, and I suppose I could be persuaded.” You stop in front of the double doors at the front of the school, and from how others are rushing through the halls you assume the bell is going to ring soon.

“Could I try to persuade you after lacrosse practice? I’m gonna be late for Chem.” He says, though his tone is anything but worried, just like the smirk on his face.

“There’s a cafe next to the nail salon down the road, I might be there when lacrosse practice is over.” You hint, before turning to leave without another word.

After texting the group chat about the plan to meet up with Riki after his practice ends, you felt good. Flirting came easy, especially when you wanted something, which obviously was the case with him, but you weren’t oblivious to the fact he was flirting back. 

hueningbarbie: damn u act fast

bitchqueen: i'm just a girl who knows what she wants and gets it ;)

hongchae: do you think he’ll agree?

bitchqueen: if he doesnt i think jake is my only other option

bitchqueen: killing myself means i let them win

bellenotdelphine: jake is NEVER the only option

bellenotdelphine: hang in there queen

You sit in a worn out booth facing the big wall of windows lining the front of the hole-in-the-wall cafe. Part of you regrets choosing it considering Gloria, the old lady who always takes your order and brings you your food, seemed all too excited when you said you were waiting for a boy that wasn’t Eunseok. 

You try not to look up every time you see a car pull into the strip center of cafes and food joints, only glancing when you see a black Jeep pull into the parking spot next to your car, quickly acting like you weren’t looking when the familiar lacrosse player hopped out of it with wet hair and the same sweatshirt with his jersey number and name on it.

It isn’t until he slides into the booth across from yours that you look up from the menu you weren’t even reading, “How was practice?”

He sighs, leaning back into the booth and you feel his shoe brush yours, “Coach had me on offense,” he says, rubbing his side with a wince.

“Want some tiger balm?” You ask nonchalantly, reaching into your purse to pull out the small container of it you keep to help with the pain you get from looking down and taking notes, not to mention scrolling through social media, too.

He takes it with a whispered please, and you try not to watch as he moves his hand under his shirt to rub it in. Bahiyyih was right.

“Any drinks, mija?” Gloria appears beside your booth with a knowing look on her face as she looks between you two, “and you?”

“Dr Pepper, please.” You order with a smile, and she affectionately rubs your arm with a nod before looking at Riki, who repeats you.

When Gloria walks away to get the drinks, Riki seems curious, “I come here a lot.”

Nodding, he says, “I figured. What’s good, here?”

“Oh, everything is good. Do you recognize anything on the menu?” When he shakes his head, you try not to act offended, and say, “The enchiladas are really good, but if you’re picky I would get the tacos.”

“Mm, I’ll get an enchi-“ he struggles to mimic your pronunciation of the word, and you laugh quietly.

“Enchiladas?” You ask with a cheeky smile, and he scrunches his face up in shame, “It’s okay, it’s hard to say.”

“You’re good at it.” He states, not an opinion, a fact.

“I am.” You agree, and the smile on his face is enough to send your heart into your throat. Get. A. Grip. “Like I said, I come here a lot.”

“So, what do I have to do to persuade you to help me pass Chem?” He asks after Gloria sets down your drinks and takes your orders(sending you a hidden wink as she turns to walk into the kitchen), and you realize now's the time to bring up your plan.

“So, I actually have a proposition for you.” You admit, and he leans forward a little, curious to hear it. When you say it, albeit a slow and awkward version of what you intended to say as the nerves got the better of you because of that damn look in his eyes, you swear you almost see his face drop a little. 

“So you want to…fake date? To make your ex jealous.” He sounds unsure, and you quickly shake your head.

“Not jealous, I kinda just want to ruin his day...everyday.” You state, “I’m the crazy bitch, you’re the hot athlete. Match made in heaven, right?”

He seems to take the ‘hot’ comment well, crossing his arms and tilting his head, “So, what are the rules? If we’re dating, do we have to go all out or just spread the word?”

“Spreading the word only works for so long,” you say, pleased by his question, “Kissing is a bit much, especially since it’s only been a few weeks since I dumped him. If we move too fast everyone will think you’re my rebound. We should take it slow.”

“So…” he thinks for a second, “Holding hands?”

You hum in agreement, “Get me flowers, too.”

“What’s your favorite kind?” The question shouldn’t throw you off, but it hits you rather suddenly that you’d never been asked that by a guy, especially not Eunseok. 

“Lilies.” You say, “And baby’s breath.”

He nods, taking a mental note of that just as Gloria comes out with your food. The enchiladas were a win, he devoured them like he hadn’t eaten for years, though there was a pause in the process when he insisted on trying the salsa you had poured generously over your own food, which was far too spicy for him, to your delight.

You exchanged numbers outside of the restaurant after paying(he had picked up the bill before you could grab it), and as you were putting a name to his number, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

Laughing at the look on your face, he subtly motions behind you, and when you glance back you find about five girls no older than 16 piled into a Corolla and staring, but snapping their eyes away and hiding when you meet their gazes.

Turning back to him, you swallow the sudden lump in your throat when you see he’s already looking at you.

“Good catch.” You cough, ignoring the smug smirk growing in his face, “I’ll text you.”

“Okay.” He says, waiting for you to move away before he does, and you find yourself sucking in a deep breath and turning to get into your car.

“So he agreed?” Belle asks from the passenger seat of your car, “I told you, teenage boys are easy.”

You pull into your parking spot in the school lot, pulling down the ugly parking pass they make you hang from the rearview mirror that you always tuck back up when you leave because it's an eyesore, “We tried to work out the technicalities last night but I fell asleep on the phone.” 

Eunchae gasps as if scandalized, “You fell asleep on the phone with him? That’s so cute.”

You groan, “I know, it’s embarrassing!” Getting out of your car, you try to withhold a groan when you immediately spot Jake practically skipping over, a cheeky grin on his face. Shit.

You don’t hide your displeasure when he calls your name, shooting a giggling Belle the finger before turning to give him attention you know you’d regret, “You and Niki?”

“Is that any of your business?” 

He starts giggling, the grin on his face widening as he starts hopping around like an excited puppy, “No way! You gotta tell me how he fi—“

“Jake!” A girl from the cheer squad calls his name from across the courtyard, and he whirls around to wave with a flirty smile.

By the time he turns back to you, you’re already walking away with the girls. “We’re talking about it in 2nd!”

“No we’re not!” You call back, waving your hand dismissively. Eunchae snorts, hooking her arm with yours as the three of you walk through the entrance. Jongseob had come in early with his other friend group for club prep, so his presence is sorely missed. 

“Do you think he’ll get you flowers?” The junior on your arm asks, and you shrug.

“I mean, maybe.” Your answer makes Belle roll her eyes.

“Manifest it, or…” She stops in front of your 1st class of the day, ready to drop you off, and a grin overtakes her face, “Bitch.”

You step closer to see when she sees, and at your assigned seat is a bouquet of the same flowers you told Riki you liked, pink and white lilies with baby's breath sprinkled in. Habitually, you bite your lip to withhold the smile, sliding your arm out from Eunchae’s and walking in.

The girl who sits next to you, Hikaru, has an almost fox-like grin on her face as she sees you finally arrive. She says a few things that you hum in response to as you pluck the tiny folded card from between the blossoms, opening it and allowing Belle and Eunchae to peek over your shoulder to read it with you. “Shut up!” Belle practically squeals.

For: Pretty

“God.” You sigh, closing the note and grabbing the bouquet from Eunchae who had picked it up to smell them, “I wonder where he got these.”

“I don’t know but they look expensive.” Belle muses with a grin and you hum in agreement with a smile.

A text tone dings from your phone, a familiar one that makes you groan. When you look at your screen your jaw clenches and shifts.

spermdonor: lunch? we need to catch up.

You suspect your mom told him about how you get off early now, cursing the woman mentally as you send back a simple thumbs up to her ex-husband. 

Between 1st and 2nd period, you had put the bouquet in your car to avoid walking around with it, and you’re so very thankful you did with the annoying grin on Jake’s face as you sat across from him in College Algebra.

“You and Niki.” He repeats with a cheeky raise of his brows, his grin unaffected by the look of utter distaste on your face at his presence.

“What about Riki and me?” You ask monotonously, clearly unimpressed with the prompt.  

“You guys datin’?” He asks cheekily, clearly already aware that you went on a ‘date’, but wanting to hear it from you.

“If I say we went on a singular date will you leave me alone?” You ask with a sigh, using your knuckle to massage your temple.

Jake shakes his head with a shit-eating grin, “Not a chance.”

You groan softly as the bell rings, and the sigh of relief is quickly smothered with your hopes of escaping this period without having to answer a question as a familiar substitute walks in, Mr. Morrell, a nice old man who usually just lets everyone do their own thing. He’s your mortal enemy now, you’ve decided.

The moment he announces those wretched words, ‘free day’, your fate is sealed.

Jake is snickering like a freak, leaning over his desk as if you aren’t just a few feet away from him, “You and Riki.” He giggles, and you look at him as if he’s possessed and it disgusts you.

“Please, leave me alone.” You say with a bit more emotion than your last few words.

Jake is too busy giggling like a little girl to listen or even hear what you said, nearly cutting you off as he asks, “Where was your first date?” 

“The Mexican place next to the nail salon down the street.” You answer monotonously, just wanting to get it over with at this point.

“Did he pay? He paid.” Jake asks then nods to himself as he says the last statement.

“Yes, he paid.” 

“Ooo, did he kiss you? Nah, Niki’s way too pussy to do that—“

You cut him off with an invisible twitch of your brow, “He gave me a solid kiss on the cheek.”

It’s as if you’ve broken the already clearly leaking dam of pure giddy delight. He’s practically squealing with a breathy and high-pitched ‘naur way~’, whipping out his phone you assume to text their group chat. He’s bouncing in his seat, and you make a face as you pull your desk an inch away from his desk to stop feeling the movements.

You open your coloring book you bring with you to classes when you have no other work, you have other work but you’d rather not do that while Jake giggles and grills you.

The rest of the period is filled with him asking questions you either answer shortly or choose to not answer at all. (“Do you think he’s the one?”)

You of course could not see was that across the campus Riki was hiding his phone in his lap wanting to sink into a hole and die as Jake spams the team group chat like a live tweet of his, though strongly condemned by him, weirdly thorough interview like your barely started kind-of-relationship is his favorite sitcom.

“Thank you, lord.” you sigh as the bell rings, freeing you of your torment as you grab your gathered and organized bag to pull over your shoulder and hasten out of the classroom before Jake can get you. (Yes, like a boogeyman.)

It seems you can’t catch a break as you find out Park Sunghoon is in your 4th period. Park Sunghoon, jersey number 23, goalkeeper of the Decelis Demons. Also, you’ve decided, another mortal enemy. 

You don’t even know how you hadn’t noticed him all semester or the semester prior, given how awkwardly talkative he is. Sitting beside you with a cute but unsettling smile, holding out his hand like he was meeting a celebrity, which you weren’t exactly complaining about but the smile was weird. He was almost just as bad as Jake, if not worse simply because he freaked you out a bit. Seriously, why is someone so beautiful so fucking weird. His moles look like constellations but something about his vibes unsettle you.

It isn’t like you don’t have weird friends, you’ve watched Jongseob stuff fifty chile-coated gushers into his mouth purely because Eunchae told him he couldn’t. Weird usually isn’t the issue, except it is in this scenario. 

Escaping him and getting to go to your teacher’s aid period was like a shining of heaven’s pure light on you. You find yourself grading papers in the back of the classroom while your freshman-year Latin teacher plays Hercules in New York on the projector, a purple glitter pen in your hand as you go through the stack of exams.

“Hey,” one of the freshmen a cluster of desks away calls to you in a semi-hushed voice, halting the movement of your glitter pen and directing your attention to them, “your boyfriend’s waiting at the door.”

‘I don’t have a boyfriend’, parts your lips before you suddenly remember that Riki exists and halt before it can leave them. Looking to the closed door of the classroom, you find the boy in question peering through the small window in the door, and raise an inquisitive brow.

He only waves at you, a clear signal he wants you to come out and talk to him, part of you wonders why he knew where you were but memories of the phone call the night you both agreed on the whole ‘fake dating’ thing, exchanging school schedules and discussing preferences, come back to you and you nod lightly.

Mrs. B looks up from her laptop as you cap the glitter pen, “Don’t be gone too long.” 

Shooting her a smile and a small ‘yes ma’am, thank you’, you get up from the desk and shoot the snickering freshmen a weak glare as you walk to the door, opening it just enough to side step out of the room and shut it behind you.

“Hey.” is the first thing he says, his voice is deep despite its softness, mindful of the other classes going on in the language hall as well as the other teens clearly trying to get a good look at him as the door closes behind you.

You say it back just as softly, “Hey.”

He smiles just a bit, a boyish quirk of his lips that has your heart picking up, get a fucking grip, bitch. “I’m sorry about Jake and Sunghoon.”

The mention of them has you pressing your lips together with a nearly-sympathetic smile, “It’s okay.”

“No, they’re…a lot.” He chuckles softly, though his words are still genuine, “I don’t want you to get scared away.”

Something in your heart flutters, “Don’t worry about it.” You say with a soft laugh that has his eyes darting to your smile. “Sunghoon was…weird, but I already knew that Jake’s a pest, so…”

He laughs at your words, head shaking slightly, “Still, I’m sorry about them.”

“It’s fine, really.” You say with a shake of your head. A student exits the Spanish class down the hall, pausing at the sight of you and Riki before walking in the direction of the bathrooms. 

Riki spares them little more than a brief glance over at the sound of the door shutting behind them before his gaze is back on you. God, why is he looking at me like that, you think just before he speaks again, “Do you bowl?”

The question catches you off guard, and you tilt your head and ask, “Like do I know how or do I do it often?”

“Both.”

“Kinda and no.” You answer, “Why?”

He brings a hand up to rub the back of his head, your eyes darting to the way the sleeves of his t-shirt stretch to accommodate the movements of his arm and a few veins are visible up his arm, “Some of the guys and I were going this weekend, I…figured I’d ask.” 

His words are finished with a bit of hesitance that you have little time to linger on as you question with a slight laugh, “Did they ask you to bring me?” 

You see a slight pink tinge to the tips of his ears as his elbow drops yet his hand lingers on his trapezius, creating yet another visual that has you wanting to repeatedly slam your forehead into the wall beside you. He shakes his head slightly, “No, I, uh, wanted to bring you.”

The words are said with a soft laugh like he’s a bit embarrassed with himself, and you find your teeth catching your bottom lip to hold in the despicable grin that you know should not be growing on your face right now. You just broke up with your long-term boyfriend, wake up.

If Riki’s eyes dart to your lips, you don’t see it as you glance to the door of your class. “Then…yeah. I’ll come.” 

Your answer has his lips forming a pretty grin that he quickly covers up with a bite of his bottom lip and a nod, taking a step back as he prepares to leave, “Cool. I can pick you up, yeah?”

Yeah, you can. You nod, “Just text me.”

“Yeah, I’ll text you.” He finishes with another nod, and you giggle softly at his repetition. His eyes soften at the sound, another thing you don’t notice as you see the student returning from the bathrooms, glancing your way every so often as they approach the closed Spanish class door. 

Riki sees them too, and as they look over again, he leans down to press his lips to your cheek in a quick but sweet kiss, “See you next period.”

He shoots you a swift wink as he backs up again, and you put it together that he kissed you because of the third party in the hall. You exhale a soft response as he turns to jog off, clearly not meant to be gone from class as long as he has been, “Yeah.”

As soon as he turns the corner and you’re alone in the hall, you close your eyes for a long blink to bring yourself back to Earth. A soft curse leaves your lips as you turn back to the door to re-enter the Latin class, heart racing and hands slightly clammy. 

Clammy. 

The fact that a boy is making you feel so damn juvenile with the way you can’t help but react to his words and face and voice and eyes—

The walk to 5th period fills you with a sense of dread before you remember who else is in that class. Mrs. Wilson greets you happily as she sets up the activity for the day on the projector, which alerts you to the fact someone is standing by your seat who doesn’t belong there.

Riki has a look of confusion on his face as he looks up at Nayeon, clearly a bit confused by whatever is leaving her lips. The teacher’s greeting alerts the both of them to your presence in the doorway, where you paused at the sight of her. The corners of Riki’s lips quirk up at the sight of you, but Nayeon looks like she’s about to puke.

You don’t even speak. Something about the sight of pure panic in her eyes gives you a boost of serotonin but the fact that she’s standing in front of your ‘boyfriend's desk, speaking to him. Oh, you’re pissed. 

Yes, you are aware he isn’t actually your boyfriend and the two of you hadn’t even discussed publicly referring to each other as such, but the principle still stands. You want to punch her face.

Unfortunately, Mrs Wilson would be quite upset if you slammed Nayeon’s head into the whiteboard, and you like your teacher too much to debate starting a fight in her class. 

Your eyes follow Nayeon’s every move as she hastily removes her hands from where they were on his desk, avoiding your burning stare as she moves to her own seat. 

Walking to your desk, you smile at Riki as if what just happened has zero effect on you despite the burning fury in your gut, and sit down beside him. “Hey.”

Your soft greeting has him saying it in kind, shifting in his seat to lean back and see you better, “You know her?”

His question has you tilting your head in a faux innocence, “Mhm. Why?”

Riki has a slight knowing look on his face as he watches your reactions, “She had a lot to say about you.”

“What did she say?” You ask as if it’s a simple question, like you aren’t dying to know and anxiety isn’t clawing at your chest making it harder and harder to make your hands not shake. 

He shrugs with a purse of his lips, a slightly cheeky smile forms on his face as he asks, “You jealous?”

A scoff leaves your lips and your eyes roll before you can even think to hold the sass back, “Jealousy implies she’s better than me in some way.” You say with a defiant cross of your arms, “and she is not.”

“Then why’d you glare so hard?” He asks, clearly amused by both your words and body language.

You think, why did I not tell him about Nayeon?

The answer? Eunseok and Nayeon’s little affair had more of an effect on you than you would like to admit. Anxiety claws at you everytime you even imagine Nayeon interacting with Riki, and the fact that you just walked in on her saying something to him that your pride won’t allow you to ask him about just makes it all so much worse for you. 

The truth is that the irrational part of your brain, the one that often wins the battles against its more logical other half, made the thought of Riki knowing you were betrayed by your best friend all the more sickening to imagine. It’s embarrassing. Humiliating. 

“I wasn’t glaring.” You argue, and Riki raises his brows as if to say ‘really?’ before he huffs softly in amusement and the bell rings.

“Yeah, you were.” He says with a lingering curiosity in his gaze before he looks to the board as Mrs Wilson starts class. Your first instinct is to argue, to be stubborn like you always are, but the lingering anxiety in your chest makes you want to never speak again just to find some kind of peace.

The entire time you take notes you aren’t truly absorbing any information, your brain is stuck on every possible thing that Nayeon could have said to him and how you’re gonna find out without directly asking either of them if possible.

You feel sick and he’s not even your real boyfriend.

Oh, fuck.

Between realizing you want Riki and remembering that you have to go to lunch with your father, you simply didn’t have enough time to achieve as much mental preparation as you’d like before lunch. The Italian restaurant you find yourself sitting inside with a menu in your manicured hands is a relatively ‘fancy’ establishment, at least if the $35 fettuccini alfredo was anything to go by.

Your dad is the one paying, so you aren’t all that mad about the prices considering the look in his eyes is enough to ruin your enjoyment of the basket of breadsticks between the two of you. If you thought it would make a dent in his bank account you’d order another plate of mozzarella sticks just to spend his money, but the satisfaction just wouldn’t be there. 

Punching his face might feel better.

“Am I gonna have to put you in anger management again?” His anger is hushed and composed, but the shift in his jaw and the patronizing look of disappointment on his face belied his composure. Always being hyper-aware of how people view him is one of the things you hate about your dad. His attitude takes a higher spot on the ‘Why You Hate Your Dad’ pyramid, though. 

“You can’t ‘put me’ anywhere.” You bite back as you dip the breadstick in your hand into the small bowl of marinara, “Eunseok deserved it.”

“You don’t get to decide what people deserve.” He argues, still so patronizing.

The feeling of being talked down to is one you're all too familiar with when it comes to your father. The man can’t accept his own faults, one of which being how shit of a father he was and is. You roll your eyes as you take a bite of your breadstick, half-drowning his words out with your own and the other half remembering every single thing coming from his lips to throw back in his face next time he cries about how you never reach out to him. 

“Eunseok is a smart and successful, young man. And you throw it all away for—“

Ah, you almost forgot how much more your father likes your ex than you. Offering him internships, a place at his firm when he graduates, none of which he’d ever even mentioned to you. You wouldn’t ever work for or with your father, but the fact he had never spoken a word about any chances to help you gain experience like he did your ex was as infuriating as it was unsurprising.

“I didn’t throw shit away.” You snap, “He cheated on me, you keep skimming over that detail, father.”

“I’m not skimming over it, it’s irrelavent.” He exhales, trying to calm his slightly raised voice, “And you know I hate it when you call me that..”

“Irrelevant? Oh, I’m sorry, should I have stayed with a boyfriend that sleeps with my best friend?” You scoff, sipping your Dr Pepper, “And if you wanted me to call you dad, you should've acted like one.”

“Hey.” He warns, yet you only roll your eyes. “Reaching out goes both ways—“

“I know you did not just say that to me.” 

“—and I am your father, so you speak to me with respect.” He finishes, voice raising slightly in frustration before he settles it back to a more composed volume.

“No.” You shake your head, “That’s not how shit works.”

“Yes,” He bites back sternly, “If you want me to keep funding your life you’ll—“

Normally, you let your father say whatever it is he wants to say, tell him you really don’t care what he thinks and then for about a month he doesn’t text you. Then it’s ‘I want to improve our relationship’ and ‘I feel like you’re drifting away’. Today was not a normal day, however.

“Then cut me off.” You say with a shrug, “You can’t hold that shit over my head like I ask for the money you send, which you only send because you know you’re a shit father and you feel guilty.”

He doesn't respond, his jaw shifting, so you continue. 

“And considering the fact that you are a cheater yourself, why the fuck would I listen to a word you say when it comes to my own love life?” You ask, not really caring that you aren’t exactly speaking quietly, “Eunseok deserved a fire poker to the face, and I used it on his car instead. Which is what Mom should have done when she found you with the nanny.”

“Quiet down, you’re making a scene.” He hisses, and you tilt your head and look around as if you give a single fuck. “I already took care of Eunseok’s car, which will be taken out of your allowance—“

Your eyes narrow at his words, “You paid to repair his car?”

Your father doesn’t skip a beat as he continues, “—Yes, I did. And you don’t get to throw the biggest mistake I’ve ever made back in my face—“

“Yes, I do.”

“—No, you don’t.” 

“Yes, I do.” You argue back stubbornly, continuing before he can speak over you again, “And you paid for Eunseok’s car, the same boy who fucked one of my best friends for months while actively dating me and you don’t see a single problem with that?”

“His parents were discussing pressing charges—“

“That’s when you tell them to go fuck themselves.” 

He sighs at your words, clearly sick of your temper (which you inherited from him), “You need to start handling your emotions better, you’re graduating this year.”

“I have literally witnessed you throw a chair in anger, get someone else to say that to me.” 

He seems ready to respond, when the waiter comes with the food, and you speak before he can, politely asking if you can get a to-go box for it instead. Your father doesn’t seem to have the guts to speak as the waiter glances between you both unsurely before nodding, “Of course.”

He takes the dish back and the moment he is out of ear-shot, your father says, “We aren’t done talking.”

“I am.” You shrug, clearly not willing or planning on sitting here any longer than you have to.

The waiter is back out with your to-go container wrapped in a bag that has mint-chocolates inside as well as a complimentary box of breadsticks that you’ll probably eat while crying your eyes out later. You ignore the stern orders from your father to sit back down, thanking the waiter with a polite smile and promptly walk out of the restaurant. 

The tears of frustration start falling the moment you’re in the safety of your car, a soft curse leaving your lips as you put the bag of food in the passenger seat and pull out of the parking lot, turning ‘this is me trying’ by Taylor Swift all the up as you drive the highway back home. You ignore the texts from your father, as well as the calls.

You’re at the red light before turning into your neighborhood when Riki’s caller ID shows up on the screen of your console, and you debate even answering, but wipe your eyes and clear your throat as you press the green answer button, “Hello?” 

Your voice is more stable than you expected it to be, and Riki responds in kind, “Hey, I just got out of practice—you okay?”

“M’fine, what’s up?” You say with an attempt at a sneaky sniffle, the thought of him knowing you’re crying is too humiliating. Part of you is disappointed he somehow could tell that something was up. The other part of you, the vulnerable and hurt teenage girl with daddy issues and a yearning to be listened to and understood, begs to just break down. 

He doesn’t seem to buy it, you hear the sound of keys jingling and then a car door opening and shutting, then he’s speaking again, “You sure?”

The light turns green, and you finally turn into your neighborhood, “I’m fine.” It’s almost a snap, one you instantly regret as you quickly say, “Sorry, just—“

“It’s okay,” He assures, and you feel even more guilty, more tears threatening to fall as your bottom lip trembles again. You’re pulling into your driveway as he continues, “Wanna talk about it over lunch?”

“I just got lunch with my dad, actually,” You say with a soft, bitter laugh, voice wavering and a soft curse leaving your lips the moment it does, “Fuck, sorry, this is just weird.”

He seems a bit panicked by the way your voice only turns more tearfilled as you apologize, “Hey, don’t worry about it, seriously—“ There’s a sound like a knock on the other end, and you hear him whisper something like ‘go away’ before he’s continuing, “—sorry I teased you earlier today, I, uh, thought I made you mad so I was calling to make up for it.”

A soft sob leaves you as you laugh with it, “I’m not mad about that, but I did wanna talk about it,” You sniffle, “About Nayeon, I mean.”

“You don’t have to, I was just messing with you.” You can imagine him shaking his head slightly as he speaks, “She didn’t really say much, just asked if we were dating.”

“What’d you say?” You find yourself asking.

He hesitates before answering, “Yeah.”

It sends a weird hot jolt to your stomach and your worried lips turn into a girlish smile that you quickly wipe off your face, “That’s okay, y’know. I’m pretty sure my friends have been telling everyone you’re my boyfriend, so the whole ‘taking it slow’ shit is out the window.”

He chuckles on the other end and it flips your stomach like a fucking pancake, “Great, I’m not that type anyway.”

(There’s a feral voice in the back of your conscience that screeches like it’s a beast gnawing at the walls of its enclosure.)

Your teeth catch your bottom lip and your eyes shut like you’re trying to come back to Earth and not hang up out of pure flustered reflex. You force out a response, “Just means we have to make it more believably genuine.”

“What’s your plan, pretty girl?” 

Oh, you want to bang your head into the steering wheel. “Do you mind coming over? I wanna discuss it in person but I just got home.”

You jaw slackens in shock at your own words, looking into the rear view and mouthing at yourself; Bitch, what the fuck—

“Yeah, sure. What’s the address?” His response is so natural and unperturbed the catastrophizing your brain has done in the last second slips away and you silently scream.

A second later you respond like normal, “I’ll text it to you.”

“Okay, I’m on my way, then.”

When the two of you hang up after a few more words, you realize what you have done and quickly turn off your car, grabbing the food and your purse and hastening into the open garage, struggling with the doorknob and pressing the garage door button before entering. 

Your room isn’t messy, per say, but your duvet is covered in cat fur, and you don’t even know if Riki’s allergic to them or not. “Gus, can you move, please?” You ask your cat as you begin to pull the duvet off your bed but he remains unmoving on the end of your bed.

He blinks at you slowly, and you sigh. 

After taking too much time carefully moving the duvet from under your cat and hurriedly tossing it into the laundry room while grabbing your spare to put on the bed instead, the doorbell rings.

With one(at least three) last look in the mirror to check your appearance, still in the outfit you changed into for lunch with your dad, you open the large iron front door.

“Hi.” You greet softly with a slight smile, and Riki has one himself that almost looks shy.

He bites his bottom lip and says back, “Hi.”

As you let him in, you look down at the door handle, waiting for him to step inside before shutting it behind him.

As his eyes move to assess his surroundings with slow steps, you catch up to him, grabbing his sleeve and pulling his hand from his pocket as you tug him along toward your room with unhurried steps. He lets you, though you hear the chuckle under his breath.

“That’s Gus. I hope you’re not allergic to cats.” is the first thing that leaves your mouth as you pull him into your cleaned room(though you’ll have to un-ass your closet later), and he gasped softly.

The voice that comes out next is higher in pitch and softer as he hesitantly approaches your loafing cat, who sniffs his fingers for a second or two before headbutting them. You witness Riki practically melt as he coos at the feline that happily receives his pets.

“Wanna guess his full name?” You jest, and he hums, looking over at you curiously but not halting his petting of Gus. “Gazpacho.”

Riki looks elated by the information, grinning so prettily you want to use the vintage lotus lamp on your nightstand to beat your head against, and he softly goes back to cooing, “Hi, Gazpacho.”

A giggle laugh leaves your lips that you quickly cover with your mouth and a quick avert of your gaze, eyes landing on the whiteboard against your wall. The fucking whiteboard.

“Oh, fuck.” leaves your lips before you can stop yourself but you’re already moving to grab the object of your doom, “Don’t look, close your eyes.”

Your demands are met with pure boyish defiance, and his eyes follow your movement to your closet door, opening it just enough to toss the whiteboard inside and quickly shutting it. “You saw nothing.”

He slowly pulls away from Gus with a growing suspicious smirk, “I’m scared to ask.”

“It’s just a whiteboard, nothing of consequence written on it, or anything.” You say with a purse of your lips.

“A whiteboard?” He questions with a tilt of his head.

You nod, moving away from your shut closet door and taking the opportunity to change the subject, “My stepdad’s a physicist.”

“Ooh, that’s cool.” He says with a thumbs up, taking the moment to move his eyes around the room as he had been distracted by the cat, “This is a nice house.”

“Thank you,” You respond softly out of instinct, “My mom’s a big lawyer too, so….”

“Ah, right, I think Jake mentioned that once.” He nods, sitting in the bean bag(you’ll have to break the news to Eunchae later).

You hum, sitting on the edge of your bed beside Gus and petting him, “What do your parents do?”

He has a slightly shy grin on his face as he says, “They own a pretty big dance studio.”

“That’s super cool.” You compliment with a tilt of your head, “Do you dance?”

If you could audibly coo at the redness blooming on the tips of his ears as he nods slightly you would, but you settle with a giggle that has him squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment, “I do, yeah.”

“I did ballroom for like, ten years.” 

It’s as if you’ve revealed a hidden treasure, and he asks, “Do you still know how?”

You immediately hold up a defiant hand, “I am not showing you, and it’s been years.”

He whines, hands moving to clasp pleadingly, “Aww, c’mon, I’ll take you to my family’s studio and show you mine.”

This piques your interest and you ask before you can think about it, tone playfully flirty, “Taking me to meet your parent’s so soon?”

He chuckles softly, voice still so low, “Like I said, I don’t like slow.”

It takes a few more minutes of pointless chatter(and many more flirty remarks that make you want to scream into your pillow) before you get to the core of your problems today; Nayeon.

“Okay, wait, so—she and your ex…were together?” He reiterates to better understand, and you nod, and he then asks, “In your house?”

“Why do you think I took the fire-poker to his car?” You shrug, and he has a half-grin on his face.

“I thought that rumor was exaggerated.” He admits, giving you an appreciative once over like he’s impressed, “You’ve got a temper, huh?”

“I’ve never overreacted in my life.” You say with a slight raise of your hands.

He nods with a slight smirk as if he absolutely believes you, “‘Course not.”

“Anyway, she had a major crush on you in freshman year, literally fantasized about your wedding and everything,” You blissfully expose, “And I already had my eyes on you so it all worked out.”

He nods with a hum and slight smirk, “I see, so I’m sweet revenge.”

“The sweetest.” You playfully flirt, and his eyes turn into shy crescents.

“So, who were your other options?” He asks after a few seconds to let the pink on his cheeks fade, and you grin.

“Jealous?” You mimic his tone from earlier in the day and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I am.” The admission falls naturally from his lips and your gut flips, “Curious, too.”

“Jungkook didn’t want me to choose you.” You respond with a tight smile.

His eyes widen, “Coach knows?”

“He’s got an idea.” You respond with a slight shrug.

“Did he suggest anyone else?”

“Jungwon,” You answer easily, snickering softly when he groans and throws his head back, “but he’s a tight-ass, he’d never agree.”

Riki snorts, and with a shrug says, “You’re pretty, I think he’d come around.” Your raised brow has him quickly changing the subject with a curious tilt of his head, “You already had your eyes on me, though?”

His question is cheeky and paired with a matching grin that makes you roll your eyes and fight nervous giggles as you say, “I never said that.”

“Really? ’Cause I heard you say it.” He seems much too determined to not let you move on from the subject but your mother loves to compare you to a mule in regards to obstinance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shrug innocently.

He leans forward slightly in the beanbag, his elbows resting on his knees, and that grin of his only widens. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“And you’re annoyingly persistent,” you counter, but there’s no real bite behind your words. You stand up, moving toward your desk under the guise of rearranging things that don’t need rearranging, mostly to avoid his knowing gaze.

Riki tilts his head, watching you with amusement. “You know, if you’re trying to throw me off, it’s not working.”

You glance over your shoulder, trying not to crack under the weight of his attention. “Throw you off from what? I’m just tidying.”

“Right. And I’m just here for the cat.”

“Good. Gus loves the attention,” you quip, folding your arms over your chest as you turn back to him.

“But I’m not done yet,” he says with mock seriousness, shifting in the beanbag like he’s settling in for the long haul. “What’s so bad about admitting you’ve been into me? I mean, look at me.” He gestures to himself in a way that’s more playful than cocky, but you still roll your eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck.

“Wow, humble too,” you shoot back, but the warmth in your cheeks betrays you.

“Hey, just stating facts. Can’t help it if you have great taste.” He pauses, letting the silence stretch just enough to make you squirm. “Besides,” he adds, his voice dipping lower, “you’re kind of making it obvious now.”

Your hands find your hips in defiance. “How, exactly?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he muses, standing up slowly, his movements deliberate as he closes the distance between you. “The way you got all flustered when I asked if you still know how to dance. Or how you won’t look me in the eye right now.”

You refuse to back down, lifting your chin as you meet his gaze. “I’m not flustered. And I’m looking at you right now, aren’t I?”

He smirks, leaning just a little closer, his tone teasing. “Sure you are. But you’re still not answering my question.”

You blink innocently up at him through your lashes and you swear you see his eyes dart below your nose. “What question?”

Riki lets out a soft laugh, a mix of exasperation and amusement, as he shakes his head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” You shrug, trying to look nonchalant, but the proximity is starting to get to you.

He watches you for a moment, his smirk turning into something softer, though no less mischievous. “Alright, fine. I’ll let it go. For now.”

“Oh, how gracious of you.” Your sarcasm earns you a grin as he steps back and flops dramatically into the beanbag again, sprawling like he owns the place.

“Gotta keep you on your toes, don’t I?”

“More like get on my nerves,” you mutter, though the twitch of your lips gives you away.

“Same thing.” He winks, and you hate how charming he looks doing it.

The smirk he gives you as he leans back has your stomach doing somersaults, but you refuse to let him see you sweat. Instead, you turn your attention to Gus, pretending to be more interested in your cat than in the boy currently making himself at home in your life—and your head.

As Riki lounges back in the beanbag, his eyes drift lazily around the room again, lingering on the neatly arranged desk and the wall beyond. “You’ve got a pretty organized vibe for someone who just tossed a whiteboard into a closet like it was a bomb.”

You freeze mid-pet, your hand hovering above Gus’s head. “You’re still on about that?”

“I mean, it’s a whiteboard. What kind of secrets could it possibly hold?” His tone is teasing, but the glint in his eyes says he’s not letting it drop.

You debate lying, but the little smirk playing on his lips tells you he won’t believe you anyway. “Nothing important. Just… research.”

“Research.” He repeats with an arched brow, “Like, ‘solving world hunger’ research or me research?“

You groan, dragging your hands down your face. “I hate you.”

“Now I really have to see it.” He starts to rise, and you spring to your feet, blocking his path to the closet.

“Riki, no.”

“Riki, yes.” He steps closer, towering over you slightly, his grin widening as you try to stand your ground.

“Don’t make me sic Gus on you,” you warn, pointing toward the loafing cat.

“Gus and I are best friends now. He’d never betray me.” Riki gestures toward the cat, who yawns dramatically like he’s staying out of it.

“Traitor,” you mutter at Gus, which earns you a laugh from Riki.

“C’mon,” he cajoles, his voice dropping into that infuriatingly soft tone that makes your heart do weird flips. “What’s the worst that could happen if I see it?”

Your resolve wavers, but the idea of him actually reading the whiteboard is too mortifying, “I’ll have to kill you.”

His grin only widens at your threat, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Wow, straight to murder, huh? Didn’t realize you were so passionate about…whatever’s on that board.”

“You have no idea,” you mutter, crossing your arms in an attempt to look intimidating. It doesn’t work. Riki’s grin turns smug, like he knows he has the upper hand.

“Now I really need to know.” He leans closer, and the proximity sends your heart into overdrive. You can practically feel the heat radiating from him as he tilts his head, his voice dipping into a teasing drawl. “What if it’s, like, a shrine to me or something?”

The gasp you let out is equal parts offense and panic. “You think way too highly of yourself.”

“I don’t know,” he teases, tapping his chin as though deep in thought. “I’ve heard people do wild things when they’ve got a crush.”

“Bold of you to assume—”

“You’re avoiding the question again.” He cuts you off, smirking as he steps back just enough to lean casually against the end of your bedframe, his arms crossed. “What’s on the whiteboard, really?”

You hesitate, the words sticking in your throat. There’s no way you’re admitting to the utterly ridiculous pros and cons list your friends talked you into. Not yet, anyway.

“It’s… study stuff,” you finally say, your tone lacking conviction. “School projects, maybe some physics equations. Boring things you wouldn’t care about.”

“Physics equations?” he repeats, clearly unconvinced. “Yeah, because I look like the kind of guy who’d buy that excuse.”

“Hey, I’m trying here,” you snap, which only makes him chuckle again.

“I can tell. You’re terrible at it.” His grin softens slightly, the teasing replaced with something that feels a little too close to genuine. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. You don’t have to tell me.”

You blink at him, surprised by his sudden shift in tone but immediately suspicious of it. “Really?”

“Sure.” He shrugs, though there’s still a playful glint in his eyes. “But now I have leverage. You’ll owe me later.”

“Owe you for what?” you demand, but the smug look on his face says you won’t get an answer you like.

“For letting you off the hook, obviously.” He straightens and gives you a wink before heading back to the beanbag like he didn’t just upend your entire equilibrium. “Don’t worry—I’ll think of something good.”

You stare at him, your jaw slightly agape, as he makes himself comfortable again. Gus hops onto his lap, clearly picking sides, and Riki’s attention shifts back to your cat like nothing happened.

“You’re infuriating,” you mutter, though you can’t quite keep the fondness out of your voice.

He glances up, his smirk softening into a smile that’s entirely too charming. “And you love it.”

You hate that you do.

The week passes by with a dreadful speed, and after four whole days of anxiety-induced stomach aches, migraines, and a few breakdowns in the dark privacy of your room at midnight, it is the weekend. 

It is the weekend, and Belle, Hiyyih, and Eunchae bear witness to a minor crash-out.

“I’m gonna puke.” You mumble, sitting on the ottoman at the center of your walk-in closet with your face in your hands as the older two walk around you, going through your options for an outfit.

“Keep that shit in bitch,” Belle says without looking away from the clothes hanging in your closet, pointing a finger blindly at you in warning, “You puke, I puke.”

Eunchae moves towards your hunched form from her spot on your bean bag(which she moved into your closet to sit on), snickering softly as she sits beside you and brings her hand to rub circles on your back. “There, there.”

A part of you wants to snap at her that she isn’t funny, but the act is weirdly comforting so you let her continue. Bahiyyih speaks from where she is in front of your shoe shelf, “Why do you have so many shoes?”

“My mom gets sent them monthly by some guy she was a lawyer for a while ago,” You exhale as you drop your hands into your lap, eyes still closed as you contemplate opening them ever again, “She hates wearing pumps now so she gives them to me or regifts them.”

“What if you wear these?” Hiyyih holds up a pair of Louboutins, and you open your eyes to see before looking at her like she’s crazy.

“Not only is it bowling and I’m gonna have to change shoes anyway, but I’m not wearing a So Kate for something that isn’t even a date, Hiyyih.”

She pouts her bottom lip as she puts them down, and Belle pulls a top from the collection of them hanging in your closet and holds it up in question towards you. After a few seconds of staring at the article of clothing, debating if you remember looking cute in it or not, you nod and she tosses it into the ‘maybe’ pile. 

Two seconds later, you’re hunching over and blindly grabbing a pillow near you to scream into.

Eunchae pats your back again, her snickering turning into full-blown laughter. “Feel better now, drama queen?”

You lift your head just enough to glare at her over the pillow. “No.”

“Good,” Belle says, tossing another shirt into the ‘definitely not’ pile without even showing it to you. “Because if you puke or scream again, I’m calling your mom and telling her you’re being insufferable. She might take those Louboutins back.”

“That’s not funny,” you mumble into the pillow.

“It’s a little funny,” Hiyyih chimes in, holding up a sequined crop top like it’s the Holy Grail. “Okay, but seriously, what about this? It says ‘I’m fun,’ but not, like, too fun.”

Eunchae tilts her head at it. “It also says ‘I moonlight as a disco ball.’”

You groan, sitting up straight and snatching the crop top out of Hiyyih’s hands. “Why is this so hard? It’s bowling! I should just wear sweatpants and call it a day.”

Belle spins around with the precision of a K-drama villain. “Don’t you dare. Do you want to show up looking like his cousin who just rolled out of bed, or like the mysterious, unattainable enigma that you are?”

“Unattainable?” you ask with a hesitant furrow of you brows.

“Yeah, unattainable, as in: unattainable by anyone else but him,” Belle clarifies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re playing the long game, babe.”

“You say that like this is some kind of psychological warfare,” you deadpan.

Belle shrugs. “It kind of is.”

Eunchae raises a hand like she’s in class. “But what if he’s bad at bowling? Like, gutter ball after gutter ball bad? Do you let him win or destroy him?”

You pause, genuinely considering it. “Destroy him, obviously.”

“Bold choice.” Hiyyih nods approvingly, tossing a pleated skirt into the maybe pile. “What if you’re bad, though?”

You gasp. “That’s not even an option.”

Belle smirks. “So confident for someone who hasn’t touched a bowling ball since middle school.”

“You’re supposed to be helping me, not roasting me!” You grab the nearest pillow and launch it at her. She dodges with ease, laughing as it smacks into the closet door behind her.

“Roasting you is my way of helping you,” Belle retorts, unfazed. “It’s called multitasking.”

Eunchae picks up the discarded pillow and hands it back to you, patting your head like you’re a distressed pet. “There, there. At least you’ll look cute while you embarrass yourself.”

“Why are all of you like this?” You drop your head back into your hands, half tempted to cancel the whole thing.

“Because we love you,” Belle sing-songs, pulling out a denim jacket that you forgot you even owned. “Now shut up and try this on. We’re on a schedule, ho.”

You sigh, begrudgingly taking the jacket as the three of them continue their chaotic brainstorming session around you. It’s not helpful in the slightest, but somehow, it makes you feel a little less like throwing up again.

By some miracle—or maybe just the collective force of Belle’s bullying, Eunchae’s comfort, and Hiyyih’s endless suggestions—you finally land on an outfit. The moment you pull the halter top over your head, the three of them fall silent, which is either a very good sign or a very bad one.

“Okay, that’s cute,” Belle finally declares, hands on her hips like she personally designed the top. “It’s giving effortless, but still hot enough to make him sweat.”

“It’s super cute on you,” Hiyyih chimes in, tilting her head as she appraises the outfit.

“It is,” Eunchae adds, grinning as she slides off the bean bag to circle you.

The cropped halter top clings just right, the rich color complementing your skin tone and making you feel…hot. Paired with the baggy jeans that sit low on your hips, the whole look is casual, but not too casual. You glance at the mirror, adjusting the jeans slightly and eyeing the way they pool at the hems over your socked feet.

“Am I pulling this off?” you ask hesitantly, smoothing the fabric of the top.

Belle snorts. “If he’s not staring, I’ll be personally offended on your behalf.”

Eunchae pretends to swoon dramatically, throwing herself back onto the bean bag. “The mysterious unattainable enigma strikes again.”

“Okay, but shoes,” Hiyyih cuts in, crouching by the pile of options at your feet. “You’re wearing sneakers, obviously, but which ones? The Nikes or the New Balances?”

You glance down, debating for a moment before pointing to the Nikes. “They’re cleaner.”

Belle raises an eyebrow. “Barely. When was the last time you cleaned your shoes?”

You glare at her, picking up a sneaker and threatening to launch it her way. She holds up her hands in mock surrender, moving to pull a jacket from the rack as she says, “Make sure you bring a jacket, though. It’s cold as shit.”

“Or she can not bring one and Riki can lend her his.” Eunchae suggests with a cheeky grin.

Belle promptly tosses the jacket into the back of your closet.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. The nerves are still there, bubbling under the surface, but with your friends around—and an outfit that actually makes you feel cute—you start to think that maybe, just maybe, tonight won’t be a complete disaster.

riki 🙈: im here

“We’re seeing you off,” Belle declares, handing you the Prada bag she just stuffed your lip combo into. Hiyyih trails behind her, spritzing your neck and wrists with your favorite perfume.

The dread must be plastered all over your face because Eunchae immediately starts snickering from where she’s leaning against the doorframe. “We just wanna see his reaction.”

“To me or to you guys making kissy faces at him from the porch?” you deadpan.

The chorus of giggles that erupts from your three friends is all the answer you need.

“Oh, come on,” Belle says, looping her arm through yours as she drags you toward the front door. “We’ll behave.”

“You behaving is a scientific impossibility,” you mutter, trying to resist, but she’s got the strength of someone fully committed to the bit.

“Hold on,” Eunchae pulls something out of her hoodie pocket she must’ve forgotten was there until just now, uncapping the small bottle and holding it in front of your lips, “Open.”

You obey with a slight furrow of your brows, and she sprays it into your mouth, giggling when you flinch slightly in surprise and grimace at the strong mint taste. Eunchae grins, unzipping the bag on your shoulder just enough to slip it in before closing it, “To prevent food breath.”

The moment Belle opens the front door, your breath catches at the sight of Riki leaning casually against the passenger side of his Wrangler, hands tucked into his pockets. The golden light of the setting sun highlights the faint smirk on his face, his jewelry glinting as he shifts.

"Lord have mercy," you mutter under your breath.

You didn't expect him to show up in sweatpants and a hoodie, but you weren't prepared for this either. The necklaces layering his collarbones and the glint of piercings--does he have an eyebrow piercing?—are almost too much. You quickly shove down the spiral threatening to start and glance back at the three traitorous girls behind you.

Their kissy faces drop immediately, though Eunchae barely suppresses her laughter. 

With a playful shove to Hiyyih—who stumbles into the porch pillar but resumes her antics without missing a beat—you flip them all a perfectly manicured middle finger and step off the porch.

As you walk toward him, you swear the faintest blush tinges his ears. He waves briefly at your friends before straightening and meeting your gaze.

"You look good," he says, voice low and easy.

"I know." Your response is swift and confident, though the smile on your face is warmer than intended.

The moment is interrupted when the backseat window of his car rolls down, and Jake's grinning face is revealed. Your smile drops.

"Why is Jake in your car?" you deadpan, your smile dropping.

Riki groans, dragging a hand over his face. "Dude, I told you not to be weird."

Jake looks offended. "I didn't even say anything!"

"Seeing your face is enough," you reply flatly. Jake pouts dramatically while you shoot Riki an accusatory glare. "You could've warned me."

"If I did, you would've come out frowning," Riki whines playfully. "You have such a pretty smile."

From the backseat, Jake's obnoxious "ooooh" echoes, accompanied by giggles that make Riki's blush spread down his neck. Still, he keeps his composure enough to open the passenger door for you.

"What a gentleman~," Belle teases loudly from the porch.

Eunchae waves at you, practically bouncing with glee. You shoot Belle a glare, mouthing "kill yourself" as you accept Riki's hand and climb into his lifted car.

"Bye, Manchae," you call, snapping your attention away from him as he closes the door. You're too aware of his cologne and the lingering warmth of his hand. He looks way too good.

Riki salutes your friends playfully before circling to his door. Through Jake's open window, you hear Hiyyih shout, "She likes Dr Pepper!”

"And winning!" Eunchae adds.

"And tongue," Belle finishes just before the window rolls up.

You cringe. Riki's amused laugh is confirmation he definitely heard that. "I hate her so much," you mutter, pulling the sun visor down to touch up your lip gloss to dostract yourself.

You're halfway through the motion when you notice Riki hasn't started driving yet. Turning, you catch him just as he’s looking back at the road, his hand on the gear shift. (There’s something attractive about the fact he drives stick.)

Jake's giggle breaks the silence. "Oh, shut up, Jake," you snap, not necessarily to defend Riki—though it only makes Jake laugh harder. “Why couldn't your other friends bring him?" you grumble, swiping the gloss over your bottom lip.

"He's my neighbor," Jake says cheekily.

"I would've made him walk," you reply, clicking the gloss shut and shoving it back into your bag. "Or Uber."

"That's just cruel," Jake protests, but you shrug.

"Sucks."

Riki snickers and nods. "Okay, he'll Uber next time."

Jake looks appalled. "Bro."

"You're annoying me too," Riki replies, barely glancing back as he rests his hand lazily on the gear shift.

You pointedly ignore the way his rolled-up sleeves expose a line of muscle up his forearm, a vein standing out as he moves to grab his phone charger. "Play your music," he says, holding the cord out to you.

Jake gapes. "Bro, you never let us play our music."

"That's because you guys have shit taste," Riki says without hesitation.

Your lips twitch, a sliver of pride blooming in your chest.

You connect your phone, Sabrina Carpenter's Taste filtering through the speakers. Jake perks up. "Oh, I actually like this song."

"You better," you reply, humming along as the music plays.

Riki bobs his head lightly to the beat, his usual laid-back energy soothing you as the drive continues.

"Who else is bowling with us?" you ask, turning the music down slightly.

"Jay, his girlfriend, and Heeseung," Riki answers casually.

You hum in understanding and turn the volume back up, inhaling the soft musk of his cologne mingling with your perfume. The scent is annoyingly pleasant, calming in its own way.

By the time he pulls into the parking lot and finds a good spot, the sky has dimmed to a deep navy. Riki is out of his seat in a flash, jogging around to open your door before Jake even unbuckles himself. His hand lingers on yours as he helps you down, his fingers interlocking with yours naturally.

Jake trails behind you two as Riki leads you toward the neon-lit entrance, the muffled sounds of bowling balls and laughter drifting through the glass doors. 

Jay, a pretty girl you are pretty sure was in your art class in freshman year, and Heeseung are standing near the entrance, and you wish you could hide behind Riki from their gazes that immediately find your intertwined hands.

You send a smile to the only other girl reflexively, and she sends the prettiest one back. She grins excitedly as the three of them meet your trio halfway once you enter the door that Riki holds open for you to enter first. 

(You wonder if these are manners his sisters and mother taught him or a previous girlfriend—wait, no you don’t.)

“I told you it was her!” She smacks Jay’s arm, and he winces with a soft laugh, clearly used to his girlfriend’s antics. Her approach is welcomed as she explains, “He was saying Riki was lying.” 

“About?” You question curiously, an easy smile on your glossy lips.

She giggles as she answers, “You being his girlfriend.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Riki says lowly, clearly embarrassed by the subject as you snicker at his misfortune.

“I’m Gaeul, by the way.” The girl states with a giggle as she pulls you from Riki with her elbow hooked with yours, and you barely glance back at your ‘boyfriend’, who’s being patted on the shoulder by Jay. “They’ll handle paying for everything, let’s get some snacks.”

“Oh, okay.” You say softly before smiling with her, delighted that she brought up food before you had to ask Riki about it. You aren’t ashamed of eating, or shy about doing so in front of him, but having another girl who also seems to prioritize food was immensely comforting to the anxiety in your gut. 

She grins as the two of you step into line at the concession counter, “I’m also glad I got you away from the boys for a second, they’re so…”

“Boyish?” You finish, and she laughs softly.

“Yeah.”

“Girl to girl,” You start, moving up in line with her, “I don’t think I’m gonna be good at bowling.” 

She gasps joyfully, “I suck!”

You laugh at her clear excitement that she’s finally not alone in that aspect, “But that means the boys are better than us.”

She rolls her eyes at the mention of them, “Riki and Heeseung are the really good bowlers,” There’s one more person between you two and the counter now, “I love my boyfriend, but he and Jake suck compared to those two.”

“I don’t want to lose to Jake.” You sigh, “It just doesn't seem ethical.”

“Riki’ll handle him.” She snickers softly, “You should've seen him at practice when Jake and Hoon messed with you.”

Your interest is piqued, but the person in front of you finishes paying for their food and you are forced to put your questions aside as she begins ordering and you realize you don’t even know what you want. 

You’re skimming over the menu above when your phone dings in your purse.

riki 🙈: what size shoe do u wear?

Quickly typing an answer, you glance between your phone and the menu, and Gaeul turns to you, waiting for you to add to the already sizable order with how much the four athletes can eat. “Oh, I can pay for myself—“

“Riki already venmoed me enough to spot you,” She interjects with a soft giggle, and you feel your cheeks burn.

“Oh,” You let out before shaking your head and looking at the waiting cashier, “A large drink and a basket of cheese fries, please.”

Gaeul hands you the stack of cups she’s handed, and you startle slightly when a hand and arm appear in your vision, plucking the cups from your hand. When you look over your shoulder you find a smirking Riki, “I got this. Go sit.” 

You huff softly, fighting your smile that threatens to grow even wider, “I can fill up my own drink.”

“I know, but I wanna do it.” He states with a nod like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and you can’t do much more than glare weakly. He only chuckles softly as Gaeul finishes paying and realizes he’s with you, “Go. Dr Pepper, right?.”

You look away from his cheeky smirk with a shift of your jaw, and you lose the fight against the grin now on your face, “I hate you.”

He only huffs softly in amusement as you walk away with your arms crossed, making your way to where you spot Heeseung’s orange hair. There’s a pair of green bowling shoes beside another bigger pair that are red placed on the bench seating, and Jake has a grin on his face the moment you sit down to put them on.

“I am not above hitting you in the head with a bowling ball, Jake.” You say as you pull the white sneakers off your feet to put on the bowling shoes, not even soaring the Australian boy a glance as his mouth shuts, clearly rethinking speaking.

Heeseung snorts, “Shit, you are violent.”

You look up from your bowling shoes at the Lacrosse captain, who’s grin drops and he quickly looks away, acting like he wasn’t just laughing. Jay shakes his head with a laugh, “Thank you, for shutting them up.”

You give him a smile with a scrunch of your nose, “My pleasure.”

The moment Riki and Gaeul return, you’ve barely gotten your shoes tied. You’re still shooting looks at Jake, who’s pretending to look anywhere but at you while Jay wheezes softly into his hand. Riki raises a brow, setting a tray of drinks and snacks on the table. “What happened now?”

“She threatened Jake’s life with a bowling ball,” Heeseung informs him with amusement still clear on his face.

Riki pauses mid-sip of his drink, glancing at you with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “Already? We haven’t even started the game yet.”

You shrug innocently, tugging the laces on your bowling shoes tighter. “He looked like he deserved it.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” Jake argues with a whine, and you roll your eyes.

“You had that stupid look on your face.”

“Not defending him, but that’s just what Jake looks like.” Jay interjects with a finger raised to make a point, and Gaeul smacks his hand lightly with a disapproving shake of her head despite her snickering.

Riki sits beside you, handing you a large cup full of what you assume is Dr Pepper that you immediately taste to prove your theory, humming happily and smiling as you thank him. His smile mirrors yours as he begins to put on his own bowling shoes, and you grab your purse, which you had initially placed to your left, from between the two of you to place it elsewhere.

“Here,” He says softly, grabbing your purse from you to put on his other side with his jacket, which he had shed at some point between entering the building and sitting down, and you mutter a soft ‘oh, thank you’ that has his soft smirk widening just a bit before he focuses back on tying his shoes.

You’re somewhat thankful that they seemed to have agreed on teams instead of each of you having your own scoreboard, though seeing every ‘x’ between your ‘5’ points was embarrassing enough. 

Gaeul seems wholly entertained by the gutter ball she just achieved as you cheer for her from your seat between Riki and Heeseung, too distracted by the fun of the game to see the goosebumps on your arms. You’re leaning forward to pluck a fry from the basket of them on the table when you feel a warm something draped over your shoulders. 

Riki is standing for his turn before you can even react, but across the table Gaeul turns to hide her face in Jay’s shoulder to poorly muffle the high pitched squeal she lets out. You ignore the heat rising up your neck, catching the fry between your teeth to slip your arms into the jacket sleeves.

Jay and Gaeul seem to be the only team playing purely for fun, because Jake and Heeseung are neck and neck with you and Riki on the scoreboard and your ‘boyfriend’ looks less than pleased about it. 

It’s near the last round when Jake scores a miraculous nine points that you mentally prepare to accept defeat, looking up at Riki who had just gotten back with your refilled cup, “Horrible news.”

He raises his brows, looking at the scoreboard and cursing under his breath. It’s your final turn, and while you hadn’t completely embarrassed yourself with your subpar bowling skills you probably weren’t good enough or lucky enough to score anything higher than six points. At the moment, HeeJake is in first place.

Gaeul is cheering you on with her back against Jay’s chest, and Riki leans down, resting a hand on the edge of the table beside you, his face just close enough to make your heart race. “No pressure,” he says softly, smirking. “But if you lose, we’re never hearing the end of it.”

You roll your eyes, trying to act unimpressed. “Great pep talk. Truly inspiring.”

He snickers softly, straightening back up as you stand with dread clear on your pretty face. Heeseung pipes up, “Give her a good luck kiss, Romeo.” The glare you shoot the Lacrosse captain only makes him snicker with his hands held up in mock-surrender, “Was just a suggestion.”

The feigned smile you give him has your fake boyfriend plucking your drink from your hands (how did he knew you had an urge to throw it at Heeseung’s face, you’ll never know), and his hands move to your shoulders to walk with you to edge of the lane to grab a pink 7lb bowling ball.

Riki’s grip on your shoulders lingers, and he leans down slightly to murmur near your ear, “Just—aim in the middle.”

You glance at him over your shoulder with a withering look, choosing to ignore his proximity, “Like that isn’t what I’ve been doing.”

“Could've fooled me—ow! Okay, okay,” He’s still laughing despite rubbing his chest where your punch landed, much too cheeky for your liking but his smile is too…something for you to want to wipe it off his face, “You’re better than Jake.”

You shoot him a skeptical look, but it’s hard to ignore the encouragement in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, you grip the heavy pink ball tightly, positioning it at your waist. Riki steps back, hands on his hips, his smirk still in place.

“Alright, show us what you’ve got, baby.”

“Oh, shut up.” You grumble softly, shooing him away to get his heart-fluttering grin out of your face, and as you pull his oversized sleeves up your arm to keep it from getting in the way you give yourself a mental pep talk.

Don’t lose, bitch.

It doesn’t help that your nails make putting your fingers in the three designated holes a struggle, and the moment the ball is released into the lane, veering left toward the gutter before God herself takes control and it curves back toward the center and slams into the center pin, you cover your face.

Strike!

Gaeul practically shrieks in excitement as the pins scatter, “Yes, girl!”

You blink, lashes fluttering as you process the cheering as well as groans from Jake, and you gasp, “Holy shit!”

Riki’s joyous laughter is infectious and warm, and you let out a soft shriek that fades into giggles as his arms wrap around your waist and he lifts you off your feet in a hug, “Hell yeah, baby!” 

The moment your feet are back on the ground, Gaeul is before you with her hands up for high fives, practically bouncing in excitement for you. It’s practically second nature to you as you match her energy, too high on your miraculous win to notice Riki’s hands lingering on your waist.

Another thing you fail to notice in your moment of joy is a familiar couple just a few lanes over, one party too distracted by the ruckus to pay any attention to the game her boyfriend and his friends dragged her to join.

She watches you smile and laugh as Riki helps you out of your bowling shoes, and her eyes follow you as you walk toward the restrooms with the light blue Prada bag she had always wished you would give her. It isn‘t fair.

You sigh softly as you place your bag on the sink in front of you, unzipping it to grab your lip combo to touch up in the mirror before going back out. As you uncap your lipliner with a muffled click, you hear the bathroom door open but don’t think much of it at the moment.

It isn’t until you look into the mirror, leaning forward slightly to see your lips better, that you see who it is.

“Can I help you?” You ask her reflection with a tilt of your head, tone less confrontational than it should be, but you’re trying to keep your good mood and Nayeon’s face is threatening to ruin it.

She scoffs softly, yet keeps a safe distance, “Do you even like him?”

You look away from the mirror to really look at her, ignoring the satisfaction that her slight flinch brings you, “Excuse me?”

“You moved on fast.” Nayeon states, and you scoff with a smile of both fury and amusement at her audacity, “Is it even real, or did you use daddy’s money to get him to date you?”

The tilt of your head should have been a sign for her to shut her mouth, but she continues when you don’t respond like usual, “But I guess moving from one guy to another is just like you.”

She’s just trying to rile you up, it’s obvious. 

You shake your head with a soft and bitter laugh, looking back at the mirror to continue what you had intended to do, the lip pencil gliding over the edges of your lips and the pad of your ring finger blending the harsh edges. 

Her jaw shifts in the reflection as you cap your lip-liner and exchange it for your lip gloss, and you send her a condescending smile, “You done?”

“You bitch—“ Her words are cut off by another person entering the bathroom, and as you swipe the gloss over your lips, you pause when you see it’s Gaeul.

She glances at Nayeon, but her main focus is on you as she says, “Ready to go?”

You hide your confusion at her question with a pretty smile, closing your gloss and stuffing it back into your bag before you walk to her, shoulder checking the audacious bitch on your way out, “Yep.” 

Gaeul’s arm hooks at your elbow as you both exit the bathroom, and you sigh in relief at being out of that situation before you remember your prior confusion and she explains without you needing to ask, “Your ex is at our table antagonizing Riki, I figured if he’s here she would be too.” 

Your brows furrow and you quickly pick up the pace of your stride with fury souring your mood once again. When you turn the corner, your gaze zeroes in on Riki, who’s leaning back in his seat seemingly unbothered by whatever it is that Eunseok is saying to him, and Nayeon hastens past you to join her boyfriend’s side.

Eunseok’s eyes land on you the moment his girlfriend puts herself on his arm, and they follow you as you approach Riki without even a glance his way until he speaks, “You move on fast.” He snorts, soft and bitter, “Didn’t expect you to open your legs so fast considering how long it took you to put out.”

You ignore him, though the anger in your gut is boiling hot as your gaze moves to Riki, who you find is already standing now, his jaw shifting yet no other sign in his body language that he’s as pissed as his narrowed eyes say he is. Jay, Heeseung, and Jake all watch, though from their body language you can tell they’re not exactly about to stand by if your ‘boyfriend’ decides to throw a well-deserved punch.

His gaze moves to yours the moment your hand finds his, softening as your fingers intertwine with his and you mutter, “Let’s go.”

He nods wordlessly, his willingness only pissing Eunseok off more as he laughs mockingly, and you feel Riki’s hand tighten around yours, “Already got him trained, huh? He like how mean you are?” 

“I do, yeah.” Riki responds for you with a smug smirk, “She’s got a hell of a bite.”

The second meaning to his words isn’t lost on you, and you find the way Eunseok bristles at the comment amusing enough to not get mad at Riki for it later considering the two of you obviously hadn't done more than hold hands. (You hear Jake choke on his drink, too.)

“Bro, it’s your turn!” Calls a familiar male across the bowling alley, Sohee. 

You take the moment of brief distraction to shoot a pointed look at Jake, who gets up from his seat to play peacemaker with Heeseung.

Jay seems to motion for Riki to leave while they’re distracted by the two, and you shoot Gaeul an apologetic glance that she receives with a shake of her head and a look that reads ‘don’t be sorry’ as Riki leads you out of the building.

The moment the frigid air hits you, you tug the sleeves of his jacket down your arms again and shiver slightly. “He’s such a dick.” You sigh softly, “I’m sorry.”

Riki shakes his head as the two of you stop just a few paces outside the entrance, “Don’t apologize.” His hands move to rub at your arms to help you warm up, and the sight of both of your breaths visible in the cold has you moving to take his jacket off to give to him, but his hands cover yours the moment they start pulling at the open zipper. “I’m okay.”

“Riki, it’s cold as shit.”

“All the more reason for you to keep the jacket.” He argues back with a soft smirk, “Really, I practice in the cold every day.” 

“You’re active, then. Not standing around,” You fuss, and he tilts his head slightly in acknowledgement before a cheeky smirk grows on his face.

“‘You worried about me, pretty girl?”

“Oh, stop it.” You groan with a poorly concealed warm laugh, and he catches your hands as you weakly swat at his chest, pulling you closer. “Riki.”

Your soft mutter of his name has his eyes shutting and his head falling back with a soft groan escaping his lips, “You’re so mean, baby.”

“It isn’t fair to you.” He doesn’t seem pleased by your statement, shaking his head and leaning forward to press his forehead to yours.

“Just a kiss.” He pleas softly, his nose brushing yours and you inhale sharply, “Just one.”

His words flip your stomach inside out, and as you sigh his name again he leans in.

“Oh shit!” The sudden exclamation has you and Riki both startling away from each other, Jake grinning like a maniac at the doors with Heeseung, Jay, and Gaeul behind him. “Fuck, did I just ruin a moment?”

You groan, turning away from them to begin walking to Riki’s Jeep, arms crossed to protect yourself from the cold and your mind in utter shambles because—

What the fuck?

Jake gets a ride from Heeseung home according to Riki, who had unlocked his car for you to get in while he said goodbye to the others. A part of you regrets not saying goodbye to Gaeul, but the thought of spending another second under their gaze at that moment felt suffocating.

The silence in the car is loud. Not awkward loud, but loud enough that every glance out the window and every shift in your seat feels amplified. Riki’s hands stay firmly on the wheel, his fingers drumming against the edge of the leather cover as he fiddles with the turn signal.

“So,” he starts, his voice casual but slightly strained, “you’ve got a mean bowling game for someone who swore they’d lose.”

You glance at him, catching the way the passing streetlights make his jawline look sharper. “That’s because I hustle. Low expectations are a great strategy.”

He huffs a small laugh, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Guess I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

You lean back against the seat, trying to ignore the fact that your heart still hasn’t settled since that moment at the alley—the one where his face was too close, his breath too warm, and you almost forgot this whole thing was fake.

“So… next time?” you tease, arching a brow. “How much more mortifying teasing can you handle?”

“Depends,” he says, keeping his eyes on the road. “How long does it take to make your ex think he lost the best thing that ever happened to him?”

Your laugh comes out before you can stop it. “It’ll probably never happen, I just like to see him squirm.” The weight of his words sits in the air between you, heavier than it should be. You turn to look out the window, feigning interest in the row of darkened houses you pass by. 

“You know,” he says after a beat, his voice quieter now, “I don’t think they’re worth this much effort. Your ex and… her.”

You blink, surprised at his shift in tone. “Well, thanks for that motivational speech, Riki. Really helps my self-esteem.”

He shakes his head, glancing at you briefly. “That’s not what I meant. I just mean… if they couldn’t see how good they had it with you, that’s on them. You don’t need to prove anything.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard. You open your mouth to reply, but the words don’t come. Instead, you study him in the dim light, wondering—not for the first time—why he agreed to this in the first place.

“Why are you doing this, Riki?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitates, his fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. “I told you, I need you to help me pass Chem.”

You narrow your eyes, not convinced but also not ready to push. “You haven’t even asked for help past me giving you my old notes.”

He smirks again, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “They’re just that helpful. Don’t overthink it.”

And maybe you don’t, because overthinking means dissecting the way he’s looking at you now in the faint glow of the dashboard, like he knows something you don’t.

The car slows to a stop in front of your house and you fiddle with the hem of your halter top, trying to figure out how to say what’s been sitting heavy in your chest since the bowling alley. “Riki,” you start, your voice softer than usual.

He hums in acknowledgment, already looking at you.

You take a steadying breath. “I don’t think… I’m ready for a real relationship.”

That gets his attention. His hands shift in his lap, his expression unreadable. “Okay,” he says after a beat, his tone cautious. “Where’s this coming from?”

You shift in your seat, suddenly finding the dashboard very interesting. “It’s just… you’ve been really good to me this past week, and I feel like it’s not fair to you. I mean, you’ve made it pretty clear how you feel, and I don’t want to lead you on or—”

“Hey.” His voice is calm, steady, and it makes you pause. “You’re not leading me on. I knew what I was getting into.”

“Yeah, but…” You trail off, frustration bubbling up because the words in your head won’t come out the way you want them to. “It’s not just about you. It’s about me, too. I don’t think I’m ready to deal with… all of this. Not after everything with him. It’s too much.”

He doesn’t say anything right away, which somehow makes it worse. The silence stretches, and you’re about to apologize—again—when he finally speaks.

“So, what do you want to do?”

“I think we should stop,” you say, hating how small your voice sounds. “The fake dating, I mean.”

He nods, almost imperceptibly. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s not—” You stop yourself, biting your lip as your eyes burn. “I just… I don’t want to hurt you. You deserve someone who’s all in, and I can’t be that right now.”

His lips twitch into a faint, almost sad smile. “You’re thinking too much about me again.”

You frown, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs lightly, his eyes moving away from you briefly before they settle back on yours. “It means you’re allowed to put yourself first, you know. I’m a big boy; I’ll survive.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He cuts you off gently, an easy smile still on his face. “If this is what you need, we’ll stop. No hard feelings.”

The simplicity of his response hits harder than you expected. It’s so Riki—quietly selfless, always willing to go along with what makes you happy.

You hate how much you suddenly want to reach across the console and kiss the life out of him. But you don’t. Instead, you swallow the lump in your throat and force a smile.

“Thanks, Riki.”

His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Anytime.”

You watch him exit his car, circle around the front, and open your door for you while holding a chivalrous hand out just like before. A part of your heart aches with the knowledge he’s still doing this despite not technically having to, and you smile softly as you accept his help. His hand doesn’t linger in yours as it did before, though.

The walk to your front door is silent, and he halts just before the step onto your porch, his hands in his pockets, you pause before approaching your door, turning to him. With the few inches that the porch gives you, meeting his gaze is easier. “Tonight was really fun, ignoring the end of it,”

He chuckles softly, “Glad you had fun, pretty girl.” 

If he didn’t mean to let the name slip he doesn’t show any signs of panic or regret, only meeting your nearly-level gaze with warmth.

There’s a moment before you turn your body only slightly towards the front door, “Goodnight.”

His hand catches your elbow gently as you begin to turn away from him, pulling you back yet giving you time to pull away if you so desire, and you don’t.

His lips meet yours in a kiss that’s softer than you imagined it’d be. His hand moves to your cheek yet pauses just before his skin touches yours, lips sweet and slow against yours. 

It’s over before you can kiss back like you want to, his lips parting from yours with a soft smack that makes your stomach flip. 

“Goodnight.” He bids in a low mumble, barely an inch from your lips when the words leave his and he takes a step back with a soft smile that makes your heart twist painfully, “See you Monday.”

You can only nod, forcing a slight smile and turning to punch in the door code with shaky hands and a heavy, aching heart.

part two.

©heedeungism : do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission.

[woantohae]

In my arms || (Bob Reynolds x reader)

Summary: The Thunderbolts are constantly on missions, busy trying to do good and save whoever they can. One of them was Bob Reynolds, the defenseless yet powerful man who is part of this team and family. However, he doesn't participate in these missions so he can continue practicing controlling his powers.

Despite telling them he's capable, the team prefers to give him more time to get used to them, until one mission, when a member of the team is injured. And all Bob can think about is the fury he feels when he hears Y/N being hurt. And how much he wants revenge on whoever did it.

content warnings: angst, he fell first and he fell harder, "avengers" tower, fluff, thunderbolts being a family, violence, curse words, SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS*, Yelena and Bob being like brother and sister, "touch her and you die" trope.

Author's note: I WATCHED THUNDERBOLTS*!!!! And let me tell you, it was better than i imagined. Honestly, it became one of my favorites and it can easily be in my top 3 of Marvel movies. I just can't describe the experience with enough words, but the waiting was totally worth it ✨️ AND THE POST CREDIT SCENE 👀 MARVEL ATE WITH THAT ONE.

With that being said, i'm excited to tell you that i'm gonna write more of Bob Reynolds 👉🏻👈🏻 So here you go, a one shot with him, wich contains a few spoilers of the movie. At this point our reader will be polaris lol.

Hope you like it and comment what do you think of this one 💌

Bob was getting used to the place.

What had once been Avengers Tower had now become his new "home." He had an incredible view of New York City, several rooms to hang out in, thousands of dishes and meals he'd never been able to prepare in his life, and the pleasant company he shared every day.

The team had made him feel comfortable and part of something worthwhile, despite what they'd gone through to get to this moment.

Bob still felt guilty about what happened when Void took control of him and darkened everything in its path, even when Yelena reminded him it wasn't his fault and that he wasn't alone. The blonde had become a trusted person for him and was always there when he needed her. He told her his secrets and how he felt, and the Russian always gave him advice or a word of encouragement. Even with the trust he had in her, he confided in her something he never thought would happen to him. Or rather, something he thought was impossible to happen in such a short time.

He was attracted to Y/N.

The girl whom his other self had caused to see horrible things from her past, the one who could move metal objects with a simple flick of her fingers, and the one who made his heart race and his cheeks blush. It was a feeling that consumed him every time he was near her or even thought about her.

And Yelena, being the good spy she was and good at reading people, knew how Bob felt about Y/N. She always encouraged him to get closer and talk to her more, but Bob simply couldn't do it. It was not that easy.

"It sounds easy," John says, after hearing the plan for carrying out the mission.

Bob shakes his head to return to reality and ignore such thoughts.

"Wait until we get there and they welcome us with open arms," ​​Bucky says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"We still made it last time, and look at us here," Y/N replies, shrugging her shoulders.

Ava laughs and shakes her head.

"We'd better get moving," she says.

Bob looks at the group with hope in his eyes, but feels unsure about what he's gonna say.

"Can I come with you, guys?" he asks.

All heads turn to look at him with a mixture of surprise and sympathy for his question. They know he wants to help however he can, but after Void was under control and hadn't appeared for quite some time, they weren't so sure it was a good idea to expose him like that again.

"Bob..." Yelena begins to say.

Bob hurries to explain himself.

"I know what you're gonna say. But I think I'm ready, I know I can control it" Bob says with determination in his voice "I've been practicing and trying to talk to him, so maybe I can do it, today"

"We know, Bobby," says John, "But we must complete the mission without any mistakes or problems along the way."

The brunette looks down and clears his throat, nodding. He raises his gaze to smile and meet Y/N's gaze, who smiles back.

"No, no, I understand," he says dejectedly. "When the time is right, I can come with you."

Bucky pats his shoulder and Alexei gives him a thumbs-up. Despite their attempt to lift his spirits, he can't help but feel useless and without any reason to be in the group, other than washing dishes, tidying the place, or reading books he finds lying around.

He hates the feeling.

But it is what it is, right now. And he has to face it.

After the meeting to organize the plan, the group dispersed to look for the weapons and prepare the car in which they would go to the location. Bob watched from afar as the rest of them prepared, while playing with his fingers. He shifted his gaze to the large window overlooking the city and didn't feel Y/N's presence approaching him.

"Hey," she said in a soft tone.

Bob turned his head to look at her and smiled delightedly.

"Hey," she asked.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He nods and laughs softly, pretending to be okay and swallowing the feeling that bothered him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine"

The girl mimics his smile and stares at him, while Bob feels the heat spread to his cheeks.

"Hey, how about we watch a movie when I get back?" she offers, patting his arm to get his attention.

Bob smiles.

"I was actually thinking it could be a movie night with just us. If you like that idea," Y/N says, crossing her arms and shrugging her shoulders with a smile on her face.

"A movie would be nice. I think it would be fun to have a movie night with the rest of the team," he says awkwardly "We haven't had one of those in a while, so..."

She lets out a soft laugh, thinking how cute he looks all flustered.

"Oh..." he remains silent to calm his nerves until he speaks again so as not to make a fool of himself. "Oh! Yeah, just the two of us. Of course. It could be fun. Count me in!"

Y/N smiles and laughs softly, wich sounds angelical to Bob's ears.

"Great. It's a date" she says.

Bucky calls her to let her know they're about to leave, so she starts walking away from Bob.

"See you, Bob."

"See you. Good luck," Bob says with a dazed smile on his face, remembering the girl's words.

It's a date.

Bob walks to his room with an excited smile, feeling happiness in his chest, but when he remembers the last thing Y/N said, his eyes widen.

"Oh shit! It is a date!"

He needs to prepare for it.

----------

Bob listened and watched from the communications room to see how the team was doing on the mission.

It wasn't going so easy as they planed back in the tower a few hours ago, as they had run into a group of mercenaries who weren't going to give up so easily. The brunette just hoped everyone was okay and managed to complete the mission—and he really hoped Y/N was okay and didn't get hurt.

A feeling of anguish and anxiety was causing Bob's chest to tighten. His leg kept moving as he played with the Rubik's Cube in his hands, unable to complete a color.

The sound of bullets filled his ears, and his jaw clenched as he heard and saw Yelena or Bucky being hit. Alexei grumbled as he tried to pull a man off John to help him, and Ava took care of a few. Y/N tried to stop the bullets as best she could, but there were some hidden snipers she couldn't sense with her powers so easily.

"There's to many of them!" John complains through the earpiece in Bob's ear.

"Fuck! If we don't stop the ones from the roof we cannot go back to the car!" Ava exclaims in an almost exhaustive voice.

"Shit. C'mon guys" Bob whispers while frowning his eyebrows at the scene.

"Bob, can you see how many are on the roof?" Yelena asks from the communicator in her ear.

"Uh, yeah, yeah" he says inmediatly "There's five on the roof. Three of them has guns and two of them are programming something on the computer. Seems like.... oh no"

"What Bob?" Bucky asks.

"It's a bomb! You need to get out of there" Bob says quickly.

"Shit," Yelena curses.

"I can try to stop them. But I need you to cover my back," Y/N says in a confident, hurried tone.

Bob watches as the girl begins to head toward the other side to attack the group of men with guns at the entrance. The others try to stop anyone from attacking her, and she moves stealthily between the bodies to reach the entrance. Bob focuses his attention on the cameras in the building that shows Y/N, his heart aching at what's happening in the footage. Or what could happen.

"Please, be careful," Bob whispers.

Y/N stops the guards' bullets at the entrance with precision in her movements and attacks some who plan to hit her. Bob's eyes glance at the rest of the team as they manage to escape thanks to the distraction caused by the girl with green sparkles flashing from her fingers. However, he doesn't stop for more than five seconds just to check on the girl again. He wants to make sure she's okay, even if it's from behind the computer. Far away from the place where she is right now —just the thought of it makes his inner self freak out.

Something it's beginning to awake inside of him. Something he thought he had buried for his own good.

Or rather someone.

"Y/N, all done. Let's head to the car. I'll try to get to you right away," Bucky orders.

"No. It's okay, I got this," she chimes in stubbornly.

Bob shakes his head.

But before she can do so, a stray bullet hits her shoulder, destabilizing the girl.

"Fuck!" she complains, touching her shoulder.

"Y/N?" Bucky asks worriedly.

"Y/N!" Bob yells, watching as one of the guards hits her with her gun on the back of her head, causing the girl to fall unconscious to the ground.

That's it.

Bob rushes out of the tower's communications room and runs to the balcony, where he takes to the air with determination. He doesn't stop for a second, because time is precious, especially after seeing Y/N getting attacked. The only thing that keeps repeating in his mind is the visual image of the girl being injured, so he moves quickly through the air until he reaches the others. He had seen the coordinates and the area where they were, so it was easy for him to arrive in time.

Bob tries to find the place that the camera allowed him to watched the area in wich the girl was back at the tower, and when he finds it, he is surprised to find that one of the men responsible of attacking Y/N is carrying her unconscious body in his arms. Fury courses through his veins at the sight, and he rushes to stop the bastard. It's as if he's being consumed by darkness, a sensation he knows all too well.

As soon as he's in front of the guy, he stops him and without a second thought, tries to attack him, careful not to hit Y/N. The man looks at him in horror and carefully places the girl's body on the ground, then raises his hands in surrender.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know..." he stumbles, but all Bob sees is red.

He growls and begins to mercilessly beat the man's body, making him bleed, and doesn't stop until he's unconscious. Blow after blow, unleashing all the anger he felt at seeing how the bastard hurt the girl. He can still see her grimace of pain and how her body fell unconscious to the ground, helpless, and who knows what they might have done to her if he hadn't arrived in time.

"Please...." the man begs almost unconscious.

Bob doesn't hear him. He doesn't want to.

And Void doesn't want to too.

The rest of the team arrives at Y/N's location, only to see her lying on the ground with a scarlet stain forming on the shoulder of her suit, while Bob kills the man. Ava approaches the girl's body and makes sure she has a steady pulse, while John makes sure that no one appears and attacks them by surprise.

"Bob," Yelena warns and tries to approach him to make him see reason.

"No! He hurt her. No one can touch her, or hurt her!" he exclaims in a mixture of anger and darkness. "No one! You heard me? Fucking no one!"

The others stare at the scene and notice how Y/N wakes up and observes the state Bob is in. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she rushes over to him and wraps her arms around him from behind, resting her face on his.

"Bob, hey. It's okay," she murmurs in his ear, feeling the man begin to slow down the blows, so she tightens her grip on his body. "I'm okay. Everything will be okay."

Bob calms down and brings his now covered in blood hands to Y/N's arms, then turns his body and hugs her with all his strength, trying to cover her body to protect her just in case, and also feel her in his arms and make sure nothing happens to her anymore.

"You are hurt" he whispers in her ear.

"It's just a scratch. I'll be fine" Y/N says with a small smile on her lips.

"He hurt you. I couln't allow him to do it" he says in a broken voice.

Y/N looks at the rest of the team and smiles at them, letting them know she's okay. Kinda. Bucky sighs and shakes his head at the girl in that state, knowing she must be screaming from the pain of the bullet, while Alexei smiles sideways and tries to encourage her from a distance. The blonde russian girl mouths to her that she will get the car ready to go, to wich Y/N nods and indicates her to do so.

"We still have our date," she tells him, still standing with the brunette, glancing at the man's lifeless body.

Bob lets out a sigh and nods his head against Y/N's chest, agreeing with her.

"Our date," he says in a soft tone, relaxing at the touch of her fingers in his hair. Although he can't help but feel anger again when he smells the metallic scent coming from the girl's wound.

"Yeah. Are we still up to that?"

"Definitely" Bob answers and lets out a small laugh.

She smiles and then pulls away from him to look him in the eye. Those blue orbits who watch her with a spark on his eyes.

"So let's go home and have our date, okay?" Bob nods and then lowers his gaze to the girl's wound.

"First, we need to treat your wound," he says, pointing to the red stain on her suit.

"Would you help me with that?"

"You don't have to ask me twice."

They both stare at each other with a small smile on their faces, understanding how much they care for each other and would do anything to keep them safe and viceversa.

Especially Bob.

And as long as Y/N is in his arms, he'll be okay.

[hellsbellssinclub]

Too many fic ideas 😠😠😠

Too many WIPs 😠😠😠

Too many forgotten plot points to continue stories 😠😠😠

Too many new fandoms 😠😠😠

[cherrygublersworld]

what a girl wants

pairing: spencer reid x gf!reader category: smut (18+) words: 1.6k summary: you and spencer are taking things slowly, but when he’s wearing glasses and grey sweatpants you have a hard time remembering it. a/n: soo this is my first ever fic, hope you like it!!

spencer had been rambling for twenty minutes now, you were watching one of your favourite movie “what a girl wants” and had to pause after 10 minutes because spencer had, of course, something to say about the population of the bedouin, that somehow got to the invention of the agriculture. you lost it after he started listing the risk of iron deficiency anemia.

your problem with spencer yapping was just that you got lost every five minutes. first you notice the way the sun hits his jawline. then it’s the way he moves those hands of his, and you really can’t not get lost looking at his pretty lips.

you have been dating spencer for two months now, and yes it’s a short amount of time to say you’re in love with someone. but truth be told you fell in love with spencer reid the moment you saw him.

you met in a small coffee shop, right next to your new workplace, and he was just so incredibly gorgeous that you really had to shoot your shot.

now he’s yapping about arab tribes in your sofa, wearing a pair of grey sweatpants (that had you foaming in your mouth since he entered the door), a simple cardigan that looks as soft as clouds. and just because that wasn’t enough he even wore glasses, like real fucking glasses, that stands so heavenly on that pretty nose of his.

you nearly died on the spot, barely heard him when he greeted you, all soft smiles and heart eyes, you were too busy trying not to kneel down and beg him to fuck you dumb.

cause yes, you didn’t had sex yet, you’re taking things slow, which is as sweet as frustrating, and of course you end up every night feeling guilty for not appreciating the first man in your life that actually respects you and wants to court you like a gentleman fresh out of bridgerton.

point is if you were bridgerton you would most definitely be kate sharma. and you’re definitely tired of using a toy when you have the prettiest man in the world gushing over you.

when did you end up so desperate for a man you really don’t know, but to your defence things escalated the last time you saw each other.

four days ago, he took you out on a date that ended in a make out session on his couch.

and god you were so addicted to the taste of his lips, his hands on your waist, just his thumb under your shirt drawing slow circles that nearly made you moan.

you didn’t even noticed you started moving your hips till you felt it, right under your core, but what’s even worse is that he whined. he fucking whined.

you started serious doubt you would survive.

not with the way he tightened his grip on your waist, or the way he kissed you next, hot and passionate, and you surely died when his hands gently guided your hips faster on him.

you straddled him till you both came in your pants, moaning in each other’s mouth, laughing softly like teenagers. and then a call from work came and he was straight on a jet.

the next three days, while he was in some lost town in Luisiana, all you could think about was the way he felt under you, his moans and whines, how he get even prettier after an orgasm.

god you needed him so badly.

that’s basically why when he arrived at your house today, you’re distracted, can’t take your eyes off of him and your hand hurts.

you know he knows something is up with you by the looks he keeps giving you, but you keep pretending as best as you can that everything is fine.

it’s not like you need to fuck him so bad you’re literally about to explode if you don’t taste him. no nothing like that. you’re fine. everything’s fine.

expect that he starts yapping, eyes wide, pretty lips and hands in the air.

you don’t know if you wanna cry or cum.

so you try, really really try, try to be a good and respectful girlfriend. taking a deep breath, you try to focus on his words instead of how his glasses would fog up with his moans.

dr spencer reid, three phds and a master, proud profiler of the most elite team of the fbi, the man who can catch the tiniest micro expression and hidden meaning behind the most trained liars of the states.

apparently the only thing his brilliant mind can’t tell is when his girlfriend is horny.

so he just keeps rambling and you keep trying to behave yourself, for exactly seven minutes, then you break. without even realising it your hands are behind his neck and your lips on his, and he gasps, surprised but oh so sweet.

you pull back slightly, barely an inch between the two of you, just to whisper to him. “i’m sorry baby, it’s just that you’re so sexy i can’t-“ and then you’re kissing him again, as if you need to prove your words.

and spencer is basically gone, his mind blank since your lips touched his, his body tingling everywhere.

to think he was so nervous to see you today, paranoid about possible remorse of your last date, he had been so anxious during the last three days he didn’t even had a moment to really think about how good you felt.

but now you had interrupted his rambling because he was so sexy you had to kiss him, his brain couldn’t even start to comprehend your words, not that he could ever get a thought straight when you’re kissing him.

and definitely not when you quickly move to his laps, straddling him. feeling your body perfectly sitting on him spencer moans and you take the opportunity to push your tongue inside his mouth.

same scene as four days ago but this time spencer’s not stressing over doing the right thing, he shut his brain off and really feel you.

oh and another big difference from last time is that spencer’s not wearing any jeans. he’s wearing sweatpants.

sweatpants that let you really sense him under you. it’s almost mandatory that you swing your hips with more force than you ever had, just cause you have to feel him as best as you can.

and fuck it feels so good you’re both moaning, and fuck he’s so beautiful you have to kiss him again, but he seems out of breath (as you are but too horny to care it seems) so you opts for his neck. leaving open mouth kisses all along, mumbling in between.

“god spencer you’re so pretty”

“missed you so much baby”

“need you so bad”

your voice is low and sultry like he never heard and he’s so overstimulated in the best way possible. he can’t shut up either, little moans keeps spilling out his mouth and when you start sucking his soft spot on the neck (he doesn’t even know how or when you figured it out) he can already feel the pleasure building

it takes just a light pull of his hair and one of your sweet moan direct to his ear when you angle your hips, and he’s cumming in his pants.

and it’s actually embarrassing how fast he was, not even his first time did he came so quickly.

you realise after a couple of seconds, when you feel a wet sensation under you, his moan lasting a few seconds longer, his hands gripping tighter your waist, his body tensing.

you would’ve realised earlier if it hadn’t been just 5 minutes since you started.

after spencer is completely still, the embarrassment eating him alive as his face slowly becomes red. you pull back to look at him in the eyes, which he avoids.

“baby look at me” you whisper softly, a small smile on your face as your hands play with his hair. he shakes his head before covering it with his hands.

“this is so embarrassing” he whines dramatically. you chuckles softly, taking his hands off his face, he fights for a few seconds before surrendering.

he looks up at you with big puppies eyes, red and ashamed, you can see his fear of judgement in the way he fidgets with his fingers.

you cradle his face with your hands, forcing the eye contact as you smile sweetly at him. “oh honey you have nothing to be embarrassed about”

and just as sweetly you lean in to kiss his face, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead and then a speck on his lips. a little but nonetheless shining smile comes back on his pretty face.

“just so you know i actually found you coming so quickly one of the biggest compliments you could ever give me” you say, voice like honey, staring directly into his eyes.

spencer gasps softly at your words, eyes widening and jaw slightly dropping.

“w-what?”

you chuckle under your breath, a tender smile on your face as your hands play with his hair, earning a soft sigh from him.

“baby the fact that i’m able to make you come in five minutes is so fucking hot, you have nothing to be embarrassed about”

for a minute spencer just stares at you, studying you in that profiler way of his, trying to detect any signs of a lie, finding none a slow smile creeps on his face.

and just like that, you’re back at watching the movie, well for a total of twelve minutes before spencer realises you didn’t come and repay the favour.

cc dividers: @uzmacchiato

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Thinking about a forever teen Danny interacting with the batfam.. again lmao

[Pt 2 here]

The first time Danny interacted with a Bat was when he was squatting in what he assumed was an abandoned apartment in crime alley. Spoiler alert; it wasn't abandoned! It was, in fact, Red Hood's safe house.

Danny had been napping on the "surprisingly nice" bed, (The bed being so nice should have tipped him off, but he was so tired, damnit.) when Red Hood enters the room, startling Danny awake. They stare at each other for a minute, since neither expected to see another person there. Danny breaks the moment by diving off the bed, snatching up his backpack, and launching himself out the window he had crawled in from. Danny ignores the cussing and calling for him to wait.

Danny ain't no fool. Just because the world seems to be mostly accepting of metas and aliens, doesn't mean they're accepting of him. They haven't repealed the Ecto-Acts in the last 30 years. He refuses to be a lab rat for some shady government because a "hero" wants to "save" him. He's older than most of these fuckers in spandex, and is technically a king, so they got no authority over him.

"Kid! Come back!" Red Hood is keeping up rather well, but not well enough.

"Eat shit!" Danny shouts back before using his small size to squeeze into a space between 2 run down buildings that can't even count as an alley. Red Hood can't fit by a long shot, so he grapples to the roof, probably hoping to cut Danny off. Unfortunately for Red Hood, Danny isn't going that way or back. No, there's a secret passage entrance Danny throws himself through.

He doesn't like being down there. Too many undead roam the halls and can sense him. He's not sure how to help them and currently can't access the realms to ask Frostbite, so he just gives them some of his ectoplasum and tries to get out before their "Masters" notice him. He feels guilty every time.

But all in all, his first accidental Bat meeting was less than 10 minutes.

--

The second Bat he "meets" is the stabby new Robin. Danny figured crime alley was a bust, so he'd try one of the nicer areas to not cross paths with Red Hood. Unfortunately, the shady building he decided to sleep in the rafters of got invaded by the Bats a few days later. He's not sure who else was there, but Robin ended up in the same rafters.

They stare at each other for a minute, just taking in the other person who's not supposed to be in these rafters. Robin is clearly sneaking in to bust the owners, and Danny looks like some scruffy homeless kid that was just sleeping.

"What are you doing here?" Robin whispers with a scowl.

"I was sleeping." Danny scowls right back.

"Why are you sleeping here?"

"What does it look like? Not all of us have sugar daddies, bird boy."

Was that mean? Yes. Should he act like the 44 year old he technically is? Yeah, but he's frozen at 14. He can be a brat. No one can stop him. And also, this is the second time a Bat has woken him up from a nap, the first time was only a week ago. He's not feeling very mature.

Robin grits his teeth before his com goes off, distracting him, and Danny takes advantage of that, grabs his shit and phases through the wall into the next building.

--

The third time he meets a Bat is truly his undoing. He got stabbed in front of Nightwing during an attempted mugging. He hates the universe and totally blames Clockwork.

Danny was minding his own business when he got dragged into an alley by 3 drunk men. They're holding knives and trying their best to intimate him.

"Give us all your money."

"Do I look like I have money?" Danny snarks, waving a hand in a "look at me" way. Which, yeah, he's pulling off the homeless kid look really well with how dirty and worn out his clothes. No one in their right mind would look at him and think he has money.

"Hm. Well, if you don't have money, I can think of something else you can give us."

"Yeah, please struggle. It makes it more fun." Well, shit, Danny was not expecting to be grabbed by pedos. Danny bare gets to think about how it'll be good stress relief to break all the bones in their limbs before a tall shadowy figure drops from the roof and lands on the attacker farthest from him. The landing breaks the pedo's leg, his screamings about it are cut off by a sharp punch to the face.

When the shadowy figure straightens and is revealed to be Nightwing, pedo #2 charges him. Between how poorly it goes for him and all the puns and quips Nightwing is making, Danny can't help the giggles that slips out.

"You think this is funny, brat??" Pedo #3 shouts at him.

"Yeah. It's hilarious." Danny maliciously grins at him.

"Why you, just die, whore." And before Danny can question how HE's a whore, he's been stabbed. And it's a pretty good stab if you want to kill someone. It's a jagged downward stab, it nicks his heart and completely fucks up one of his lungs, and the guy even goes the extra step of pulling the knife out. All in all. The perfect stab to kill someone.

Unfortunately for him, Danny isn't just someone. He's already mostly dead, which means while it hurts like a bitch and it's hard to breath, it won't kill him. It does suck he coughs up some blood before he turns off his need to breathe.

Danny ignores the cussing and sounds of Nightwing breaking bones, probably panicking over just seeing "a kid get murdered". And unfortunately, no breathing means no talking in this form. So the poor guy can't be verbally told Danny's fine, and to stop freaking out. Good thing saying something isn't always needed.

Danny lets his eyes turn a glowing bright green before silently stepping to his would-be murderer.

"What?? What the fuck??" Pedo #3 screeches. Danny gives him a blood filled smile before reaching up, grabbing the wrist of the hand holding the knife. He breaks the guy's arm in less than a second, before slamming him into the disgusting alley ground and proceeds to break both of his legs. The way Danny crashed the bones in these limbs means the guy is never going to have full mobility again, but Danny can't even pretend to care. The man targeted what looked like a scrawny 14 year old homeless kid to rape and murder. If anything, Danny is letting him off easy.

"K-kid? Are you okay? What am I saying? Of course not." Nightwing frets and tries to get closer, but Danny is tired of... well everything, so he just turns and books it out of the alley. Danny ignores Nightwing's frantic shouting as he twists and turns out of the man's sight long enough to pull up his invisibility without outing the power. He watches a panicked Nightwing run by before tapping into his flight and taking off to the nearest graveyard. Sitting in the ambient ectoplasum there while drinking what he has left in his thermos will speed up his healing.

He'd so leave this shithole of a city if he could. But Lady Gotham won't let him go and he's positive Clockwork is working with her to keep him there. He doesn't know what they're planning, but he hates it already.

---

After the stabbing, Nightwing and the other two must have spilled about him, because he's suddenly dodging Bats everywhere he goes. He starts developing even worse paranoia because they just won't take a hint.

Talking was a no go at first with his healing lung, but running away, swiping claws, biting, and throwing shit at them aren't exactly subtly "Leave Me The Fuck Alone!!" vibes. Once his lung is healed, you can add in cussing, hissing, spitting, and verbally telling them to fuck off. None of it works. It fact, Danny thinks they like the challenge, which is annoying, but slowly becoming amusing.

Though, even just the idea of him starting to enjoy something means the universe has to throw a curve ball. And this one takes the form of a scarecrow attack.

So admittedly, Danny had no idea what fear toxin would do to him, but Joker's toxins didn't do anything to him, so he thought it'd be the same shit. That was a stupid mistake on his part.

He didn't bother holding his breath when helping the Panicked Bats get civilians out of the attack radius. Any mask that was given to him was given to a civilian before he passed them off to someone with an antidote.

But to be fair, the effects of his mistake doesn't hit him til after the fight is over and the civilians are taken care of. It starts with his paranoia raising. He's suddenly eyeing the people and buildings around him. He can FEEL his parents' gaze on him, even though he knows that's impossible, they died because the portal finally blew up and took them and half the town with it. No one who died as humans from it became ghosts, and the people who were already ghosts died a second time. The only reason Danny and Tucker weren't there was because they were gift shopping for Jazz on the other side of town while Sam distracted her. It was one of the worst days of his life. It's tied with the day his parents vivisecting his ghost half and the day the GIW vivisected Vlad and him, and Vlad just straight up died from it in front of him.

That's relevant because Danny starts hallucinating a half melted Sam and Jazz (there were no bodies left behind, but his brain likes to torment him), he can't understand what they're trying to say to him, but there's the unmistakable sound of an ectoblaster echoing in his ear behind him and he... just bolts. The agents that vivisected him launch themselves at him (he doesn't process the "agents" look exactly the same as when he last saw them 24 years ago), but Danny is determined to NEVER be caught again.

He freezes when melted versions of his parents, wearing maniac grins and holding sparking weapons, cut him off. The moment they so much as twitch towards him, he bolts straight through a building using his intangibility.

A tiny part of his brain is trying to reason with him. There's no way anything he's seeing is real. This is what fear toxin is known to do. Stop and evaluate the situation!

But it's drownt out by the fear. And, ancients, is there a lot of fear. It suffocates his logical thoughts and makes him forget how to properly use his powers to escape.

He finds out later, it took the Bats 2 hours to get close enough to give him the antidote and another hour for it to kick in. They honestly thought it didn't work at first, because just like the toxin, the antidote took it's sweet time to work on him.

He crashed out hard once it did, though. Like, he fell unconscious and stopped breathing. It terrified the Bats and took them a minute to realize he's not actually dead. Well, full dead.

He finds out eventually that they originally thought he was a meta, but after all the weirdness he accidentally showed during the cat and mouse chase, they started to wonder if he was an alien. But the whole fear toxin incident convince them he escaped from some shady organization that experimented on him (not untrue) and killed his family. There's still a bet on if he's an alien or not, and that being why he was targeted.

Which is a fair conclusion, between his powers that seemingly make no sense and all his scars from fighting and being experimented on by both his parents And a shady government agency. It's especially fair after he has a major freak out coming to in the Batcave's med bay. The smells and medical equipment setting him off into a massive panic attack that leaves him behaving like a feral cat. He manages to squeeze himself into the small space between the top of the cabinets and the ceiling and growls at anyone so much as peeking into the room.

"Hey, kid. You're alright. You're safe." Nightwing tries and gets hissed at. He'd been trying for about 10 minutes to get him to come down. "Um, guys, maybe someone else should try. This isn't working. I don't think he likes me at all."

Black Bat steps into the room at his plea and waves Nightwing away. Once he's out of the room, she drops to the floor. The move confuses Danny enough to stop growling at her. He stares wide-eyed at her as she just lays full starfish on the floor.

"What are you doing?" He finally asks after 3 full minutes of silently staring at her.

"Laying."

"I see that, but why?"

"You're scared. I'm showing I'm not a threat." Black Bat sounds amused, but not malicious. Danny stares at her for another 2 minutes without blinking once.

"Why am I here?"

"You're scared. We want to help." She makes it sound simple.

"You can't." Danny lets bitterness leak into his voice.

"Why?"

"I'm not human anymore. You can't "help" me."

"I think we can." Danny starts growling again, so she adds. "We have beds and food and can keep whoever is hunting you away."

He pauses his growling again. "You don't even know who I am."

"You're sad, and hurt, and help others before yourself. You're good." Danny frowns at that.

"You're weird." He states before climbing down and sitting near her. She doesn't move a muscle. "You can't help me without getting in trouble with the government."

"Hm?"

"Yeah, I'm not considered a person because of the Anti-Ecto Acts. Anything that uses or needs ectoplasum to survive is considered non-sentient and is to be turned over for experimentation and termination. And anyone caught helping us can be arrested for treason." Danny explains. "I barely escaped when I got caught. My godfather didn't. I hated him. He was mean, controlling, and creepy, but I didn't want him to die."

"I'm sorry."

"My problems are not your problems."

"I disagree." Danny blinks at her, his gaze sharpening when she starts moving her arm farthest from him. She moves slowly, reaching up and hooking her fingers under her mask.

"Wait!" Danny leans forward a hair as if he was about to physically grab her hand to stop her, but jerks himself back. He sounds small when he speaks again. "Are-are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Why??"

"Trust you."

"But WHY? You don't know me."

"I know enough." Is all she says before pulling her mask off. He slams his eyes shut and claps his hands over them for good measure.

"No, you don't!!" He hears her move, sitting up, before gentle hands pull his hands away.

"Yes, I do." She says sweetly. "Look."

Danny peeks at her. She has a bittersweet look on her face that brightens when she sees Danny looking. She's still gently holding his hands, loose enough he can pull away if he truly wants to.

"I'm not as young as I look." She tilts her head at the seemingly random comment. "I'm not actually 14. Not anymore. I'm stuck at when I died."

He hears her, and their eavesdroppers, gasp. It's the first time he's talked about it. But something tells him to tell her (them, if he's acknowledging the eavesdropping Bats).

"My parents were mad scientists that wouldn't be out of place in your rouges gallery." He stares at his and Black Bat's hands. "They were obsessed with ghosts and made a portal to the infinite realm, where "ghosts" live. They failed twice. Once in college, my godfather was hospitalized from the attempt, and the second time they failed, I accidentally turned it while being stupid with friends and died. They didn't notice, too happy their portal was suddenly working... That was 30 years ago."

There's a choking noise from the eavesdroppers.

"If I stay, you're going to be stuck with a freaky kid that doesn't age and can't be killed by the usual methods and has so much PTSD, like a ridiculous amount of PTSD. Are you sure you want to deal with that?"

"Yes." Black Bat doesn't even hesitate. Danny nearly gives himself whiplash from how quickly he looks up at her face. "Can't scare us away."

"It should. I don't even count as human."

"So?"

""So"???"

"Yes. Why should I care?"

"Why should-??? Why wouldn't you???"

"Kid." An unmasked Red Hood stands in the doorway. "This family is full of freaks and mental illness. You'll fit right in."

The statement strikes a nerve, overwhelming him, but Danny doesn't understand what's happening at first, why his lips are trembling, his face feels warm, and his eyes sting. He hasn't felt this sensation in years. But whatever look on his face makes the infamous Red Hood panic.

"Wait! Kid! Don't cry!"

It suddenly clicks with Danny. He's about to cry. But understanding what is happening, doesn't stop it from happening. Fat tears start sliding down his face.

"Dickie! What do I do?? I accidentally made him cry!! You're better wi-" Red Hood cuts himself off when Danny starts laughing. Laughing at how panicked a crimelord is at tears. Laughing at crying. Laughing at the whole absurd situation.

"It's okay." Black Bat says softly. Whether it's to Danny or the panicky Bat is lost to Danny. But no one says anything else til Danny's tears stop and laughter dies down.

"I was Phantom, ya know?" And he hears several people choke. After he was forcibly retired, this ghost half became known as "The First Hero" in a lot of circles. The GIW repressed the fact he was a ghost when people outside of Amity Park found out about the child hero, they didn't want the public angry with them for making him disappear. It didn't work, Tucker leaked everything he could find. Danny doesn't blame him for that. Tucker thinks he's completely dead since the GIW didn't want to admit they lost him and declared him to have Ended in those files. Danny hasn't told him he's "alive" either. Danny can't bring himself to drag Tucker back into the mess that is his life, can't bring himself to contact the man who has made something of his life, has a partner and kids, has mourned and moved on. He just can't do it. "But before I was Phantom, I was Danny Fenton. But now... I'm just Danny."

"Welcome to the family, Danny!" An unmasked Nightwing cheers.

"I thought Phantom had white hair?" Someone says just outside the room. Danny mischievously leans towards Black Bat.

"Close your eyes. This is going to be bright." He whispers. She smiles gamely and closes her eyes. He gets to hear the others yelp when he lets his transformation take over, essentially flashbanging everyone, but Black Bat.

"Wha..?"

"Hair white enough for you?" Danny says, grinning with too many teeth, that are a little too sharp. Black Bat pats the hand she's still holding.

"Pretty." She smiles delighted at him and he feels his face flush bright green.

"Oh! Um.. Thanks?" He takes a deep breath and realizes something. "Now you know my name, so who the hell are all of you?"

"You don't recognize us?"

"No. Am I supposed to?"

"Eh, most people do." Nightwing shrugs.

"Well, I haven't been able to keep up with much in the public zeitgeist. I just periodically check if it's still legal to kill me. Sadly, the answer is "yes" every time, so meh."

"We'll be taking care of that." Red Robin informs him while stepping into the room and frantically typing on a tablet. "I can't believe these stupid things still exist. The Green Lanterns and Justice League Dark are going to have the biggest fit when they see these. The rest of the JL will help dismantle these too. I'll personally get them to destroy these vile laws."

"Oh.. Thanks, I guess. It'll be nice to not be hunted anymore."

"I imagine."

"Okay! Introductions!" Nightwing gets them all back on topic. "I'm Dick Grayson! Batman is Bruce Wayne. Robin is Damian Wayne."

"Tim Drake."

"Cassandra Cain. But call me Cass."

"Jason Todd."

"Wait, wait, wait. I recognize your name! Didn't you- oh, wait, that's insensitive..."

"It's fine. I did, in fact, die, but I got better. We can start a club of undead. We can invite Spoiler. She technically died, too."

"Literally everyone here, besides me has died, Jason." Tim says, not looking away from the tablet.

"Yeah, but Steph is the only one I'd invite. She knows how to have fun."

"Little wing!" Dick whines.

"Timber can be an honorary member, since he's dead inside, a fun chaos gremlin, and ain't a narc."

"Thanks." Tim says dryly while Dick dramatically cries. Cass giggles.

And Danny? He's tired of running. He wants to be able to be the child he's stuck as while getting respect over his knowledge. He wants to be a vigilante and help people again. He wants to finally have a safe place to sleep.

So he decides to give these weirdos a chance.

[tttabii]

— 엔하이픈 getting sick - enhypen x reader ₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎

pairing ⊹ ࣪ ˖ idol! heeseung, jay, jake, sunoo and ni-ki x idol! reader. ||× genre 𖹭: fluff !! note: writing this while i'm badly sick, i want them to take care of me too and i wrote a bit too much on the ni-ki part

heeseung ˎˊ˗

It was the middle of summer, and god—it was hot.

You had been under the sun for nearly three hours, recording a new music video, your throat sore and dry from yelling out directions to the equipment, dancing under the hot spotlights, and shooting scenes that needed to be shot over and over again. And even though your group's performance was later that evening, your body had other plans.

You'd already been fighting off a sore throat all week, but now? 

Your manager had to rearrange everything last minute. You didn't even have the energy to check your phone. So Heeseung came. Using the spare key he quietly carried around in his wallet, he opened the door to your apartment to find a disaster—tissues everywhere, the air was warm and stuffy, and you were curled up on the bed, nearly falling off your shoulder.

You were breathing heavily, slow and shallow, head burning up as he placed the back of his hand on your forehead. 

You let out a soft whine at the cold touch.

"...Hee..." you croaked, blinking open your eyes to find him kneeling beside your bed.

"Take it slow, baby," he said softly, brushing your hair back slowly. "I'll make you some soup, okay?"

You managed to give a small nod before he disappeared into your kitchen, and somehow just hearing him move around your apartment was comforting and made you feel at home. You pulled yourself out of bed just enough to wash your face and slowly shuffled into the living room.

Heart pounding, you opened your group's Instagram and Weverse notifications—the announcement was out. You weren't going to be performing today. Your fans were already asking questions and worrying about where you were.

You suddenly felt a little guilty, so you opened the live and set your phone up on the table in front of you, curling up on your couch. "Sorry, gu—" you broke into a rough cough, already hoarse.

Your fans could tell immediately that something was wrong. Your usually radiant skin looked pale, your lips were dry, and even though you had attempted to brush your hair just a little, you still looked awful and tired.  

"I'm sick, so I'm not going to be performing," you mumbled, voice soft and cracked. "I'm sorry, bunnies... I promise I'll do my best when I recover." 

From the kitchen, Heeseung watched with a faint smile as he poured soup into a bowl and brewed some herbal tea. He made sure to stay out of the camera's view, even as he walked over and gently placed the bowl of soup in front of you on the coffee table.

But your fans were fast.

"WHO JUST GAVE YOU SOUP?!"

"wait was that a GUY'S HAND???"

"THOSE RINGS..."

"that looked like Heeseung's ring. DON'T PLAY WITH ME."

You panicked, barely having the energy to lie properly. "It's my friend, guys... she's taking care of me right now."

Your voice broke again in the middle of a sentence. You coughed, even warmer, and could feel the throbbing in your temples return worse than before. Even the fans were chirping at you to log off. Heeseung gave you a slight reprimanding look through the screen before you pouted.

"Okay, bye guys!" You rushed out with a heavy wave as you ended the live.

You let out a long exhausted sigh and melted into the couch. Heeseung walked over as you leaned on him, and he hugged you against his chest, trying to invite a little warmth into your cooled body. You could hardly even keep your eyes open.

"Mm... shh," he whispered, and gently kissed your cheek. "I'll bring the food to the table, okay?"

He fed you the soup slowly, helped you take your medicine, and let you rest on his lap while stroking your hair. His phone buzzed. It was Jake.

jake: "bro get on fortnite rn we're wait-"

jake: "WAIT. LOOK AT THIS." [link to a post comparing the rings on "your friend's" fingers to Heeseung's] 

Jake was panicking. Heeseung only sighed, one hand still running along your forehead as you quietly whined in your sleep about the air conditioning being too cold.

Who cared if people suspected?

Let them talk. Let them wonder.

As long as you were by his side—and he could take care of you like this—Heeseung didn't care who found out.

jay ˎˊ˗

You were staying over at Jay's place because last night the rain came down in thick sheets and thunder rumbled so loudly you didn't dare walk home—he'd insisted you stay. And now, less than twelve hours later, the sun was scorching hot outside like it hadn't just stormed. The kind of sudden weather switch that made you feel like your body had been hit by a bus.

And with your weak immune system?

Yeah, you were fucked.

You hardly noticed Jay skittering around in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and lightly humming to himself as he prepared for morning practice. The ache in your head made the world feel as if it were spinning. You opened your eyes slowly, blinked a couple of times, throat was prickly, nose congested, and your head was cloudy.

Jay appeared from the bathroom a second later, towel around his neck, wearing a large smile that was fading fast—until he caught a glimpse of the haze in your eyes.

"Morning, princess," he said, walking toward you to kiss your forehead, never fully finishing his motion, coming to a halt. "...Baby, are you sick?" he said quickly, his brows knitted together as he placed his palm onto the back of your neck.

You were burning up. You gave him a weak nod and curled into the blanket, voice barely above a whisper. "I think I may have caught something..."

Jay wasted no time. Guilt written all over his face. "God! I should have brought an umbrella last night. We should never have been out in the rain..."

You sniffled and reached for him. "It's okay, Jayjay..."

He melted at how you held on to him like a sleepy koala, giving a soft sigh before scooping you up and moving to the bathroom. He wiped down your forehead and back with a cool towel in order to bring your fever down, mumbling apologies while he scrubbed the sweat off of your skin.

Once you were settled back on the couch, propped with all the pillows, Jay tucked a blanket in tight, told you not to move, and raced off to the nearest pharmacy for medicine. You knew he was worried, Jay always had that look of a worried parent when you were sick—the deep furrowed brow and concerned furrowed forehead.

While you waited, you made your way over to Jay's vinyl collection. He had played records for you before; the best jazz and mellow artists, that always felt warm. You picked one and let the soothing piano notes fill the apartment as you tucked back on the couch, missing Jay already.

You must have fallen asleep because the next thing you felt was his soft voice waking you up. "Sweetheart... wake up just for a bit... I made food."

He fed you warm homemade chicken soup with veggies, spoonful-by-spoonful, and made sure to watch closely to see that you ate enough before giving you medicine.

You took a quick photo of the meal after he left the bowl on the table, a cute little spread of home-cooked dishes. You uploaded it to your private account with a soft, simple caption:

"oops 🍵💤"

Immediately, fans flooded the post trying to guess if you had caught a cold. Some mentioned how comforting the food looked and a couple of the sharp eyed ones spotted the shadow cast by the glaring sunlight—two shadowy silhouettes.

One of the shadows had a slight fluff of hair that some fans questioned if looked... familiar. Some even commented that the food looked very similar to something Jay made during a prior cooking live.

Whoops.

But no one could really tell. No name. No face. Just a soft launch gone slightly sideways.   

Jay didn't care. When he saw the post he softly chuckled under his breath then lightly rubbed your back while whispering, "Next time I will make sure my shadow is more subliminal."

You just smiled sleepily resting your head against his shoulder. Fever aside, you always felt better when Jay was near.

jakeˎˊ˗

Jake had finally recovered from his weekly IV drip—the kind he still got squeamish about despite being used to it—and now, right on cue, you were sick too. Perhaps it was the cold snap, perhaps it was the jet lag from flying out to Japan with him right after you had your own tour, either way, your immune system didn't stand a chance.

Still, you showed up for him.

You sat in the VIP area with a few friends, bundled up in his favorite black leather jacket. Fans began murmuring, cameras clicked, whispers started going around on online forums. Eventually, even the loudest people in the room went quiet when they noticed you were there; at first trying to guess which member's jacket it was. 

"That jacket looks like Sunghoon's. Didn't he wear that in a photo a few weeks ago?"

"Wait no, isn't that Jake's?" 

Then someone zoomed in and caught the tiny detail no one expected: a small, gold retriever pin tucked near the zipper. The same pin Jake had worn a few times—once on his bag, once on his jacket in a Weverse live.

Oops.

Fans connected the dots faster than you could sneeze.

"SHE HAS THE SAME DOG PIN AS JAKE."

"Didn't she say on live last month she said she loves golden retrievers too??"

"Is this a soft launch or we keep being delusional again?"

Some were in denial, just a coincidence.

"No way. Everyone loves dogs. It is probably just a similar pin. She probably got it after seeing Jake wear his 🫠"

But others were already finding and editing side by side images. And in the middle of all this chaos, you were just sitting back stage, tissues in hand, warm paper cup of water providing lukewarm comfort for your raw throat. The lights and audience made your head spin so a staff member helped you find your way behind the stage, as you were trying not to faint.

Jake, while performing, had been searching the audience for your face. His heart sank when he was unable to see you anywhere. Then he rushed back stage during break and saw you right away, tucked away on the bench, passed out, bundled up in his jacket and sniffling miserably.

"Y/n," he said quietly, crouching down in front of you. "Why did you not tell me you felt this bad?" 

You blinked up at him. "Didn't wanna distract you. You're mid-show, Jakey."

He exhaled softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. "You're more important anyways."

A manager filled him in—how you'd likely gotten sick from the back-to-back traveling and sudden cold winds. Jake stood, nodding, then pressed some cash into the manager's hands.

"If she gets worse, take her to the hotel. And please grab some soup for her. Something comforting. Nothing spicy," he added with a knowing glance, knowing your love for spicy stuff.

Before he headed back to the stage, he kissed your temple, his hand gently cupping your cheek for a little too long. "I'll be back soon, angel... just wait for me."

Later that evening, Jake quietly opened the door to your hotel room, tossing the key card on the table before he slipped his shoes off completely. You were there, curled in a burrito of blankets wearing one of his oversized white shirts—legs bare and cold feet tucked into the covers. The tissue box was nearly empty on the nightstand and your nose was an angry red from previously blowing it so often.

He smiled softly, slipping between the sheets next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back against his chest. "You took the medicine, right?" He murmured against your hair.

You groaned. "I hate that syrup. It tastes so bitter.

Jake chuckled, kissing you softly first on your forehead, and then your cheek, and progressing to kissing your jaw. "You need it, bitter or not."

You shook your head, trying to hide under the blanket again, but he gently pulled you back. "Baby," he whispered, "I'll kiss you every time you take a sip."

Your eyes peeked out. "Everywhere?"

His smirk was immediate. "Everywhere."

You sighed dramatically. "Fine."

He held the cup up, waited while you pinched your nose and gulped it down, then kept his promise—pressing warm, feathery kisses all over your face, down your neck, even to your shoulders.

"See?" he whispered, settling under the covers with you again. "Not so bad."

You nuzzled closer. "You're lucky you're cute."

Jake chuckled, kissing your nose. "And you're lucky I'm hopelessly in love with you."

The fans could speculate all they wanted. But your head on Jake's chest, his arms tight around your waist, his whispered I love yous between medicine doses—was real, and he was yours only. 

sunooˎˊ˗

Lately, you and Sunoo had been obsessed with spicy food—spicy fried chicken, spicy tteokbokki, even spicy ramyeon at 1 a.m. The cravings hit both of you hard, and after every fiery meal, you two would cool off with mint choco ice cream like it was your thing.

The thing was—your spice tolerance wasn't like Sunoo's. Your throat was starting to bother you, but you didn't want to ruin the fun so you kept quiet. 

Not the best move. 

That night, after the spicy food coma set in, you and Sunoo did your skincares together—Sunoo dabbing toner with a cotton pad to your cheeks, while adjusting your headband like the skincare king he was. He laughed when you pouted at your sniffling, red, nose. "Too much spice, baby," he teased. You smiled, snuggling up beside him in bed, swiftly falling asleep. 

Then the alarm rang the next morning. 

You blinked awake slowly, throat so dry it felt like paper, damn near scratchy as hell. You reached over to shut the alarm off, hardly able to hum at all. Sunoo was already awake, arms around your waist softly, scrolling through his phone. 

He looked down to you the moment he felt movement in bed. 

"Morning, baby," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

You hummed again. That was when he noticed.

His head snapped up. "Wait... are you sick? And you didn't tell me last night?!"

You croaked, "Sorry... it's just my throat."

"Ugh, you're going to go from that to coughs to fevers. We've been eating spicy food and mint choco like it's a game! Why didn't you tell me?!" Sunoo groaned dramatically as he pulled you closer.

You gave him a small shrug, feeling too tired to faze it. He didn't scold you for long.

He wrapped you tighter in his arms, guiding you to the kitchen, making you sit while he brewed warm herbal tea. He even gave you one of his throat-soothing pills from his little skincare/pill kit. He showered you himself, rubbing your back gently, then gave you little massages where your muscles ached, whispering, "My poor baby..."

"Next time," he said shyly with a pout, "we're eating sweet and sour food only. No crazy spice unless I approve." You nodded into his chest, throat sore but heart completely full.

Later that morning, while bundled up in Sunoo's hoodie, legs over his lap as he massaged your calves, you posted on Weverse:

Never eating spicy food and then mint choco again 😿

It was innocent, but your fans immediately caught on.

You never mentioned mint choco before—always claimed it was "too toothpaste-coded." And last night, Sunoo posted a picture of a spicy feast and a suspicious bowl of mint choco beside it.

The comments flooded in.

"Wait didn't Sunoo post the same food?? 👀"

"THE TIMING DON'T PLAY WITH US"

"Bestie just soft launched her bf I fear 😭"

"Omg are you and Sunoo dating?! This can't be a coincidence."

Meanwhile, Sunoo peeked over your shoulder, reading the comments and laughing.

"You outed yourself," he teased, pecking your cheek. "My little mint-choco victim."

You groaned, voice still raspy. "Worth it... maybe."

He giggled. "Next time, we're eating rice and soup. That's final."

ni-kiˎˊ˗

You had just gotten off the plane and already felt like you were in hell. Your hoodie was glued to your skin, your cramps were worsening by the second, and to top it all off=—your period was going rogue in the middle of an extremely busy airport.

The air conditioning were blasting, but you were sweating as if it were 40°C. Fans were cheering, calling your name, waving signs and phones in your face. You loved them, just not today. Not when your head felt heavy, your body felt weak, and every nerve ending was screaming for silence and space.

You were wearing a baggy grey hoodie—Ni-ki's hoodie, of course—and a cap low over your face, a black mask covering your pale skin. You didn't want anyone to see how bad you looked. You just wanted to make it to the SUV outside. That's all.

Unfortunately, today wasn't going to be easy.

The sea of fans was insane. Bodyguards were attempting to keep the fans away, but some even the male fans were just pushing in too close. You kept your head down, ignored the flashing cameras, and didn't wave—not that you didn't care to, but your body wasn't processing the situations engendered by fandom.

That didn’t stop the fake fans from filming you anyway, uploading clips online with captions like:

"She didn't even smile."

"Why is she always acting like she's better than everyone?"

"Ugh, such a bitch. Not even a wave?"

"Look at her face, it's like she's disgusted by her own fans."

"I've supported her since debut but this? I'm done."

Real fans, however, were not buying the charade at all. They saw the slumping shoulders. The members gently holding you. The sweat on your forehead. The mask was hiding a certain paleness. And they came to your defense as much as the posted needed, writing:

"Guys... she looks sick."

"Leave her alone, she literally looks like she's about to faint and y'all are screaming in her face."

"Fake fans are exposing themselves fr."

 "Protect her at all costs. She doesn't deserve this hate." 

From the opposite gate, Ni-ki spotted you instantly. You were hard to miss, even in disguise. The hoodie. The posture. He could tell from meters away something was wrong. Your head was down. You were barely moving. You looked like you were seconds away from collapsing. And then... you did.

Your knees gave out, your vision went black for a second, and you dropped.

Chaos broke loose. Fans gasped, phones shot up, and your members swarmed to you. But it was Ni-ki that got to you first, pushing past airport staff urgently to reach you, gently grabbing your shoulders and saying your name softly. His group's SUV had just arrived, and without missing a beat he wrapped you in his hoodie, hiding you from view as he helped you inside the car.

Fans lost it.

Photos and videos of the two of you were circulated on the internet within minutes. The matching grey hoodies. The careful way he was holding you together as if you were glass. The way he pulled you into his car.

And of course, the rumors began to explode. The supportive fans were the first to jump into the fray:

"He literally carried her into the van. He didn't care who was watching."

"That's his hoodie. That's HER hoodie. That's THEIR hoodie now."

"Ni-ki was livid when he saw her faint. He cares so much I'm crying."

"Whether they are dating or not, she needed help and he was there. Respect."

But the toxic crowd quickly followed:  

"So unprofessional of her to faint in public."

"Why is he babying her like she's five?"

"I swear if they're dating I'm unstanning."

"She's not even that pretty why would Ni-ki go for her?"

"She always needs someone to save her, can't stand girls like that."

When you saw the trending Twitter tags - #ni-ki, #getwellsoonY/N, #matchinghoodie, #Y/Nattheairport, you clicked into the replies. 

Bad decision. You scrolled on in silence, chest tightening with every scornful reply, tears in your eyes, not just from being sick but from the sheer stupidity of it. That was when Ni-ki took your phone away.

Locked it up with one hand and put it out of reach. "You're not looking at that garbage," he said flatly.

"But-"

"No. I don't care what they say. You're sick. You fainted. And I'm here. That's what matters." He tucked you into the hotel bed, hoodie still wrapped around you, soup warming on the tray table.

He massaged your temples and brushed brushes hair out of your eyes, kissed your forehead and whispered,   "They don't deserve to know who you really are anyway."

Later on, that night, the hate just got worse. Clips of you fainting. Of Ni-ki helping you. Of the hoodie. The SUV. Fan edits with sad dramatic music. People scrutinizing every breath you took like it was a crime scene. And I mean the comments... they hurt.

So you went live. You just couldn't stay quiet any longer. You popped on wearing your pajama hoodie, your nose visibly red from blowing it so often. Your voice came out raspy, lower than usual, broken by coughs and sniffles every few words.

"Hey... I just wanted to clear something up" You began quietly and within seconds thousands of people were lifting up your notification. "I wasn't trying to be rude. I wasn't trying to ignore anyone when I was at the airport. I've been sick... I've been really sick."

Fans started flooding the comments: 

"You sound so sick omg :("

"Don't explain yourself we understand!!"

"Your voice TT please rest!!"

"Red nose and raspy voice oh no baby T_T"

"We love you no matter what. Health comes first."

You gave a weak laugh, sniffling. "Even though it was cold at the airport, I felt like I was burning up. And I was on my period, I... I genuinely thought I was gonna faint. I didn't mean to look cold or annoyed. I was just trying to get to the car."

You sighed, taking a sip of tea.

"And about Ni-ki..." you paused. "He just happened to be there. He brought his SUV before ours, and he helped me out because—Well, he's nice. That was all, I didn't ask him to help me, and it was dead nice of him." You bowed your head a bit, saying in a quiet voice, "I am sorry I didn't smile or wave or stop. I truly am. I just wasn't okay."

Comments blew up with reassurance, hearts and "it's okay's" galore. But then—just as you wiped your nose and reached for another tissue—your hotel room door creaked open behind you.

You didn't even realize at first. Ni-ki came into frame, barefoot, hair a mess, wearing a black tank top and your hoodie wrapped around him. He noticed your propped-up camera, and paused.

"...Are you live right now?" he asked, confused.

Your eyes widened in horror, slowly turning your head towards the camera and blinking. "....Yeah," you whispered.

Ni-ki squinted at the screen, and then at you. "Wait—wait, did you you just apologized?"

"Ni-ki—"  

"Are you kidding me?" He stepped fully into view now that he was visibly annoyed. "Why are you saying sorry when it's not even your fault?"

The comments exploded:

"WAIT HE'S IN HER ROOM??"

"NAH. NAH. NAH."

"YALL LIVE TOGETHER??"

"So, they're DATING???"

"Is this a soft launch or a HARD EXPOSE???"

You panicked to mute the mic, eyes wide and waving your arms. "Ni-ki, you're on live—!"

He blinked. "...So?."

You turned back to the camera all flushed, "So... yeah."

He leaned in and didn't even bother to conceal it now. "Hey. I'm already here—she's not going to read any other comments tonight. She's going to get rest. That's all we have. Goodnight."

Just like that, he ended the live for you. The screen went black. But the internet exploded.

"he's literally so protective over her??? ending her live, talking about 'us' not even'‘her'😭😭 "

"just say you're dating already omg we're not stupid"

"they didn't even hide it... same hoodie, same room, same SOUL"

"my mama and papa"

"he said 'she's not gonna read comments tonight' like who gave you husband rights?? oh wait"

"this is literally their soft launch and I'm crying"

"they're not even denying it anymore lmfao"

"she looked so sick but he looked at her like she hung the stars???"

"you mean to tell me ni-ki's been taking care of her while she's sick and getting hated on?? king behavior"

"y'all bullied a sick girl and then watched her bf walk in and protect her like a k-drama. embarrassing tbh"

"we owe her an apology fr she didn't even do anything but exist and faint"

Though of course, there's still bitterness going around: 

"she's milking this for clout now"

"i bet it was staged. who goes live when they're sick?"

"not her crying again"

"ni-ki deserves better"

"This isn't professional. Idols dating is okay, but being messy with it? NO WAY."

But that was immediately drowned out. Because the next trending comment thread was:

"anyway, when's the couple vlog?"

"pre-debut we got hints. WE BEEN KNOWING."

"them in grey hoodies is more iconic than the Eiffel Tower now"

"I'm framing that 'she's not reading comments tonight' moment. ACTUAL HUSBAND ENERGY." 

Ni-ki chuckled softly as he scrolled through the flood of comments, the glow of the screen reflecting in his eyes. You were curled up against his chest, face nuzzled into his hoodie, barely keeping your eyes open from how drained you felt. Still recovering, still tired—mentally and physically.

"Look," he murmured, tilting the phone a bit so you could see. "These are the ones you should be reading."

He gently tapped the screen, showing a thread of sweet comments.

You hummed weakly, barely glancing, your forehead still resting against his chest. He could feel how warm you were—your fever hadn't fully gone down—but you managed a small smile at the corner of your lips.

Ni-ki kissed the top of your head and whispered, "That's more like it." Then, with one arm still wrapped protectively around you, he set the phone down again and pulled the blanket tighter around both of you.

"You don't have to deal with any of it. Not when I'm here," he whispered.

[cosmosluckycharms]

Showtime☆

Dont get the deal

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

It had been a week since you got shot.

Your family barely even acknowledged that you were hurt.

So far you had been forced into three family activities, all of which you didn't enjoy.

It's not that you didn't like being around them! It's just that there are only so many times you can watch Damian take care of his animals without letting you help, or try and play games with Tim that didn't really interest you, or have an awkward conversation with your father that didn't know anything about you.

You couldn't even sneak off with your friends due to how someone was attached to your hip 24/7.

It was like they were taking shifts just to be around you.

Past you would be flattered, but you miss your friends.

You miss performing.

You miss acting.

You miss waking up by yourself, in peace.

You were tired of everyone trying to pretend they knew you.

You started to take notice of something.

After it got dark outside, your family would disappear after dark.

They'd all sneak off. To where? You had no clue. But you weren't going to ask; this was your chance to finally be around friends.

You snuck out of your room and went into Tim's room, looking around for an old blueprint of the manor.

After around 5 minutes of quickly scrambling, you found it.

You grabbed it and made your way back to your room and pulled out your whiteboard and a marker in your favorite color and started your plan.

After you were sure they all left, you were going to make your way out the window between Damian and Tim's room. They are closest to the back gate, which had the least amount of security cameras.

Afterward, you were going to sneak out to Nene's house.

It was almost the perfect plan.

Only flaw?

Despite you finding the way with the least cameras, there was still quite a bit of security.

You weren't going to give up, though.

Your hands trembled as you picked up your phone off your clean, new sheets Dick had bought for you a week ago.

Sneaking out wasn't like you.

You're a good kid.

You get good grades.

You don't cause trouble.

Sure, you're loud. A year ago, you had overheard Tim and Damian complaining about your voice being like nails on a chalkboard.

No one defended you.

But other than your voice, you're a good kid.

You try and help whenever you can around the manor even if no one lets you. You sign up for school events to get away from the manor and get out of trouble.

Compared to other people your age, you're not bad.

You hesitated, rethinking sneaking out. Sure, you missed your friends.

You haven't had freedom in a while too.

But on the other hand, your family was finally caring about you.

Finally seeing you. finally not ignoring you in favor of each other.

You could join in on conversations without freezing up looking at Dick's smile that always scared you.

You could finally sit in silence with Tim without getting yelled at.

You could talk to Bruce without him looking so scared to talk to you, as if you were fragile, as if at any moment you could break.

You could finally train with Dick without being interrupted by Damian.

You could ask Jason 'dumb questions' without being shooed off.

Right as you were about to give up on sneaking out, you had a moment of clarity.

You weren't actually being included.

Dick's smile still felt scary. You knew it wasn't as fake as how it used to be, with it never reaching his eyes, but now it felt like he was trying too hard.

Although Jason acknowledged you, he never started conversations.

Damian still didn't trust you around his animals.

Tim would go out of his way to babyproof his room and push you away from anything important, basically keeping you in a little corner of his room.

Bruce looked guilty. You assumed it was because of how he wasn't there for you when you got shot.

You didn't know how to feel about Alfred. You weren't ready to have another grandpa while still missing yours.

You grabbed your phone, which was on your bed, and pulled up UNTITLED.

Before you knew it, Miku popped up.

"Y/N! I haven't seen you in so long!"

"Hey, Miku, I need a favor."

"Hm?"

"Do you think you can hack into the cameras and turn them off for a moment? please?"

"Well..."

"Please. I can't stand to be here any longer."

"Okay!" Before you knew it, Miku disappeared from your phone.

You couldn't tell if the cameras were off, so you would just have to hope that Miku turned them off.

You quickly but quietly rushed to your closet to find something to wear.

You were currently wearing your pajamas, but you needed something darker to wear out.

You grabbed a black hoodie and gray sweatpants; you usually wouldn't wear something like this, but you didn't want to stand out at night.

Once you put it on, you grabbed your sleeping bag, prepared, and made your way to the window.

You also grabbed a beanbag and stuffed it into your bag; it couldn't fit fully, but it was fine.

It took a second to get to it due to your room being slightly farther than Tim and Damian's room.

You threw the beanbag out the window.

You almost hesitated jumping out but did it anyway.

You landed on top of the beanbag, heart beating out of your chest.

Your legs hurt due to landing on them weirdly, but you decided that's a problem for future you.

You put the hood of your sweater on and jumped the gate and got electrocuted a bit due to the electric wiring.

By the time you were fully off the property, you had scrapes all over you, your legs felt like jelly, your hair was extremely frizzy, and you looked like hell.

As you started making your way towards Nene's house, you couldn't help but feel like you were being watched.

You also noticed how, despite Gotham usually having people around, the streets were unusually empty.

You wanted to put that feeling aside, but deep down you felt...wrong.

You started hearing footsteps behind you.

Something in your head was screaming, "Turn around."

You started running, only for what seemed to be a shadow to pop up in front of you.

You fumbled back a bit and shut your eyes which was quite childish, you admit and gripped your phone harder than you ever had in your life.

You would have fallen backwards if it weren't for someone helping you up.

You turned your head sharply to see it was Nightwing.

"Hello!"

You jolted, startled from being surrounded by two of Gotham's vigilantes.

"Hi!" you spoke. Your hood fell, revealing your face.

You noticed how Nightwing's eyes widened a bit and his face fell agape slightly. Batman's face tightened slightly.

"It's late, isn't it past your bedtime?" Nightwing quipped.

You stayed silent, putting your hood back up.

"Your silence is telling" Batman spoke.

Nightwing held your wrist. "C'mon, let's get you home."

You resisted, "No! Let me go!"

"Why don't you want to go home?" Nightwing asked, letting go.

"I miss being out." you looked down at your feet.

He put his hands on his hips, a puzzled expression taking over his face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"..."

"Nightwing, I'll take it from here." Batman spoke, picking you up and putting you on top of his shoulders, which reminded you of how your grandfather used to do the same.

"Are you sure?" Nightwing asked, Batman nodded, and Nightwing left.

☆

After heading onto a rooftop and Batman giving you some ice cream, you swung your legs on the ledge.

Despite your slightly cheerful appearance, you were nervous.

Sure, Batman and his partners literally saved you and your friends, but he still looked scary.

Batman cleared his throat before speaking. "So, why don't you want to go home?"

"I've been home all week. It's the longest I haven't gone out in literal years. I miss my friends." You gripped onto the sleeping bag.

"I see, but you do realize you are still recovering, correct?" He pointed at where you were shot, raising a brow.

"No, it's not that; it's just..." You took a deep breath before continuing, "It feels like they're babying me."

"Perhaps they're just ensuring you're okay; have you thought of that?" Batman reasoned.

"Maybe, but I'm not used to it. They've never cared. At least it didn't feel like it.

He hummed, signaling for you to continue.

"They're treating me like a child when I no longer am one. I'm stronger than they think I am."

"Like they're trying too hard?"

"Yes, exactly!" you exclaimed. "It's like they don't know what to do with me now that I've gotten hurt."

"Explain."

"The whole time I've been with them, they'd never notice me. I'd be hoping all day and night they'd see me. It took me being shot at to be noticed."

"Could it be they're trying their best?"

"My whole life I've been used to dealing with my feelings alone. Back at home, everyone was busy with their own lives and each other. I think it's just a harsh change."

"I see." You kept on eating your ice cream, noticing how much more sleepy you were getting.

"What was your plan?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's clear you snuck out; you have an overnight bag."

"Oh, right! I was going to sleep over at my friend's house."

"Which one?"

"My friend Nene, the one with green hair."

"You should probably let her know you can't make it." You sat right up. "What?!" That's not fair! I just told you I'm tired of being home!"

"It's three in the morning. It's dangerous."

You sunk back down. "I guess you're right."

"What was your plan after you went to your friends?"

"I honestly hadn't asked her yet. I was hoping she was pulling another all-nighter and would let me stay over."

"And after that?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'd go back to the house or stay at a friend's house forever? I'm not sure."

He could tell you were slowly falling asleep. "I think it's time I take you home."

"Alright." He picked you up for the third time ever and started swinging away using his grappling hook.

While you were up high, you took one hand off Batman and put it up into the air. You squealed in excitement as Batman swung faster.

His smile grew more and more as he heard, you have fun.

He hasn't heard you like this for years. By the time you got to the manor, your hair was crazy and you were a giggly mess.

You had to playfully argue with Batman to let you stay up, but in the end he failed.

he had to drag you to bed like a toddler and tuck you in. "Good night, kid."

"Goodnight, Mr. Bat!"

He chuckled as he turned off the light.

While he was almost out the door, you said one more thing. "Y'know Mr.bat? I kind of wish you were my dad." and fell asleep.

He didn't say anything. He just guiltily made his way out.

☆

You woke up late the next morning; thankfully, it was still the weekend.

You stumbled out of bed and took a shower to wash off all of last night's events.

As you jumped into the shower, you noticed all the scrapes and bruises you forgot about.

They weren't serious-looking, thankfully, so your family probably wouldn't find out about last night's activities.

You hoped Batman didn't tell your father about what happened, and the same with Nightwing.

You felt your stomach rumble as you made your way towards the kitchen. You could hear Tim speaking.

"I don't understand it; I can't get any camera footage from last night!"

Oops.

You could practically hear him pulling on his hair from stress.

You snuck into the kitchen to grab your now cold breakfast, and just as you thought you got away, Bruce spoke up, making you shiver.

"Y/N, how'd you sleep?"

You turned towards him slowly. "Good!"

You aren't a good liar.

You scrambled away and decided to eat in your room.

you noticed how the window you used last night (and foolishly forgot to close) was now boarded up.

Once you got to your room, you closed the door with your back to it.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and sat on your bed to eat.

You didn't notice you forgot to lock it until you heard it turning. You froze up, fearing it was Bruce.

That was until you saw a pair of green eyes meet yours.

Damian.

You continued eating his breakfast, trying to ignore his glare.

He cleared his throat.

"L/N."

You looked up and saw him with his arms crossed.

"Do you have any clue why the cameras weren't on last night?"

"No clue, sorry. I was asleep."

"You were the only one here last night."

You shrugged your shoulders and offered him a piece of fruit on your plate.

He scoffed and stormed off.

You continued eating your fruit, somehow not noticing Bruce inside your room.

He let out a cough, which startled you.

"I know you weren't here last night, Y/N."

Play dumb!

"...who's Y/N?"

not that dumb!

You mentally facepalmed at what you said.

You noticed how the corner of his mouth twitched, suppressing a smile.

You spoke up from the tension in the room, "I'm sorry for sneaking out. It won't happen again."

He sat down next to where you were sitting and spoke, "Next time you want to go out, just let me know; I'll drop you off. It was reckless of you to go out by yourself. You can tell me anything, anytime."

He got up and froze in place before asking,

"Were you the one who turned off the cameras?"

You shook your head no, and he walked out.

☆☆☆☆☆

im sorry this was so buttcheeks i. m so sleepy

also tumblr is tweaking no clue why 👎

anyways tags

taglist: @shirp-collector-of-fixations @maybeethan69 @iluvcatzz @tacendxx @ninihrtss @tsxukikami @d3sperate-enuf @staarflowerr @chaoticmoontimetravel @crazycaoticsimp @sugarrush-blush @kaitense1 @ryuushou @weebbuscuit @eyeless-kun @twismare @mirou-x3 @vanessa-boo @vanilliona @awawage @kittzu @lunamonkeypower @jellystar-star @unearthlykara @snappingturt3ls @blue-slushi @reeyy0-2 @2juggie4life @lebsisdead @justafank @lateenightstories

[angelaness]

020525

Cycle Syncing 101: How to Stop Fighting Your Body and Start Flowing (🌚) With It

alright girls, gather ‘round. this is the full post i promised - the one about periods, moods, energy, and how to actually live in sync with your cycle instead of feeling like a chaotic mess every month. because once i started tracking and understanding my cycle… it changed everything. for real. my workouts, my eating, my planning, my self-talk all became softer, smarter, more strategic. so let's break it down.

your menstrual cycle has 4 main phases, and each one brings its own vibe, mood, superpowers, and kryptonite. when you know which phase you’re in, you stop blaming yourself and start working with your body, not against it. ready?

1. Menstrual Phase (Bleeding / Days 1–5ish)

Vibe: hibernation queen. inward. reflective.

Body: hormones (estrogen + progesterone) are at their lowest = low energy, fatigue, cramps, sensitivities.

Mind: introspective, quiet, intuitive. this is your “truth-telling” time.

What to do:

Exercise: restorative yoga, stretching, slow walks. if you need to skip your workout? skip it. your body is doing enough.

Food: iron-rich foods (spinach, lentils, beef, dark chocolate), warm meals like soups and stews. magnesium-rich snacks can help with cramps.

Routines: go slow. journal. say no to extra plans. light candles. wear comfy clothes. treat yourself like you're sacred.

Study/work: focus on review, reflecting on past tasks, journaling ideas. let your brain rest a bit—don’t force deep concentration.

Self-care: warm baths, heat pads, soft music, no loud people.

Mental tip: you’re bleeding out the past month. literally. let go of what didn’t serve you. Zdont feel guilty.

2. Follicular Phase (Post-period / Days 6–13ish)

Vibe: fresh start. springtime energy. main character in a coming-of-age film.

Body: estrogen rises. energy builds. skin glows. you feel light, optimistic, social.

Mind: creative, motivated, open to new ideas.

What to do:

Exercise: try something new—dance, pilates, running, gym sessions. you’ll feel strong and energetic.

Food: fresh and light—greens, fermented foods, seeds, citrus. boost that metabolism.

Routines: this is your reset phase. declutter. plan your week/month. start new habits. your brain wants structure right now.

Study/work: brainstorm, start new projects, prep for heavy tasks ahead. your memory and focus are sharper.

Self-care: vision boards, hair masks, cute outfits. say yes to life.

Mental tip: this is your most productive phase. take advantage but don’t overbook. pace yourself.

3. Ovulation Phase (Middle of Cycle / Days 14–16ish)

Vibe: glowing goddess. seductive. unstoppable.

Body: estrogen peaks, testosterone joins the party. libido spikes. you’re magnetic and bold.

Mind: communicative, charming, high-confidence. great time to network or confront someone (with love, of course).

What to do:

Exercise: go hard—HIIT, lifting, cardio, group workouts. you’ve got power and endurance.

Food: fiber-rich foods (quinoa, carrots, berries) and antioxidants. hydrate well.

Routines: do your “hard” things here—presentations, big meetings, social stuff, shooting your shot.

Study/work: speak, pitch, debate. you’ve got clarity + persuasion.

Self-care: romanticize yourself. take hot pics, go out, flirt with life.

Mental tip: your confidence is real. don’t downplay it. enjoy this phase but stay grounded.

4. Luteal Phase (Pre-period / Days 17–28ish)

Vibe: cozy but moody. nesting energy.

Body: progesterone rises after ovulation. if no pregnancy happens, hormones start to drop = PMS hits.

Mind: detail-focused, critical, sensitive. easily overstimulated.

What to do:

Exercise: lower the intensity. pilates, strength training, long walks. listen to your body.

Food: complex carbs (sweet potatoes, oats), calming teas, B6-rich foods (bananas, salmon). eat more often to manage cravings + blood sugar dips.

Routines: finish tasks. organize. clean your space. prep for your period like you’d prep for a storm—lovingly.

Study/work: editing, detail work, wrapping up loose ends. less is more.

Self-care: limit caffeine, go offline if needed, soothe your senses.

Mental tip: don’t trust every thought. the inner critic is loud but not always right. softness wins here.

General Tips:

Track your cycle: use apps like Clue, Flo, or just a paper calendar. know when each phase starts so you can plan smarter.

Plan around your phases: big goals in follicular/ovulation, rest + review in menstrual/luteal.

Cycle syncing ≠ perfection: life doesn’t always let you live like a hormone princess. do what you can. forgive what you can't.

Be kind to yourself: if your body is low-energy, that’s not laziness—it’s biology. honor it.

Final Thoughts:

nobody told us this. nobody said “hey, your whole system is a monthly pattern, learn the rhythm and life gets easier.” instead, we got shame, pain, and whispers. but no more. now we know better. and syncing your life to your cycle is not about being soft—it’s about being smart. strategic. in tune.

girlhood isn’t chaos, insanity, it’s coded. and when you read the code, you stop feeling like a mess and start feeling like magic.

if you made it this far, you’re already syncing, baby.

go be soft when you need, strong when it calls, and sacred always💕