#Switching back and forth until I'm comfortable in these

[sysig]

I got a new prescription (Patreon)

[suhtorus]

dogs out. zenin toji

fluff ‐ parents au. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ slice of life, mom!reader, unnamed 2yo daughter, megumi is four, and tsumiki is six. preschool teacher!nanami cameo ♡

little sunshines au

"moooooom! the baby took her shoes off again!"

tsumiki's voice has you peeking your head from the kitchen, trying to catch sight of your little girl. you're about to call your husband's name when he walks into the living room and picks your daughter up from the floor.

"dont like 'em?" he smirks, holding her tiny foot up and inspecting it.

she grins cheekily at her dad, proudly wiggling her little toes and showing off the sparkly nail polish on them.

"spaw-cle!"

finally done with the dishes, you join them and see her crocs discarded by the couch.

"again?"

"let her be, ma." toji has her foot against her cheek, both of them giggling at the silliness of it.

"she has to get used to them, toji."

he finally meets your eyes and sees the stern look in them. slowly, he puts your daughter down while she looks at him in confusion. toji doesn't have the heart to force his youngest to do stuff she doesn't like. but after three kids and years of marriage with you, he knows this is a battle he won't win.

"sorry, kiddo."

—

two days later, he's standing by the gates of the kids' school, waiting for them, when he notices something odd.

his face quickly switches from boredom to concern once he spots nanami holding his baby girl in his arms, her face visibly blotched from crying.

"she wouldn't stop taking her shoes off during class. I'm afraid we had to take... drastic measures." the blond man hands her over, visibly tense at toji's reaction. tsumiki and megumi stand next to him with matching frowns, having seen (and heard) their baby sister's cries. "school's policy."

"daddy!" she's bursting into tears as soon as she's in his arms, her watery eyes set on his concerned ones. "want 'em off!"

toji looks down at her feet and sees the brown tape around her pink sneakers, clashing horribly against it and causing him to sigh in defeat.

"baby, you can't keep taking your shoes off." he's patting her back in comfort, letting her sob against his shoulder while he turns to nanami again. "any advice? my wife and I have been struggling for weeks."

having seen this before, nanami recalls a piece of advice given from a couple who struggled with this, too. "try to find a pair that she likes. they don't have to be sneakers—the school isn't strict with that."

and suddenly, toji has a brilliant idea.

—

"princess, c'mere."

both you and your husband enter your daughter's room, sitting on the floor, and she comes closer with her plushie hanging from her hand.

toji places a box in front of her, your demeanor slightly anxious as you wait for her reaction. for a two-year-old, you're aware that she can be the toughest crowd sometimes.

her eyes are fixed in front of her, watching her dad opening the boring, brown box until pink and glitter are all her brain can process.

"woah..." she's clearly in awe, her little hands quickly grabbing the tiny pink heels and slipping them on her feet. "mommy shoes!"

the heels clack loudly against the floor, her steps uncoordinated and clumsy, but she can't stop giggling happily, walking back and forth.

"what did i tell you, ma?" toji's grin is smug, his arms wrapping around you while you play it off with a roll of your eyes. the sigh of relief is obvious from you two. "problem fixed."

he hasn't even finished gloating when you spot megumi standing by the door with his hands covering his ears, glaring ominously at toji.

"don't be so sure, honey."

[earlysunshines]

dontcha (want me?)

kang haerin x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: haerin doesn’t like you just because and then you hit her in the head with a volleyball and now she has a valid reason to not like you but now YOU have a reason to try to warm up to her

warnings: volleyball player!reader ; haerin is just like me in this I easily hate ; brief one sided enemies to lovers but very brief ; reader lowk whipped ; haerin whipped but she hides it better... maybe ; pure fluff no angst isn't that crazy ; so cute icl ; anything else I didn't mention ; haven't written in twenty years basically this is nooot my best ; not proofread

a/n: you don't understand how much i appreciate haerin's cover of dontcha (listen while you read!! or at least near the second half lolol) bc I'm so obsessed I keep looping the song that song is my everything... also, tried a diff pacing/writing style so lmk what u guys think :-P

haerin never really liked you. 

she’s never actually met you, but in her defense, once she has a reason not to like someone (or that tiny feeling in her gut that draws her away), the feeling grows and grows—quietly, steadily—until it fills every space it can. and you? you’ve given her plenty to work with.

considering your athletic reputation as the university’s star outside hitter, you're relatively well-known around campus. that’s her first strike—not that it’s a bad thing, just enough for haerin to put you in a different world in her mind. two sides of a coin. peas of different pods—and so forth. you’re louder, more outgoing, bright in a way that feels abrasive to her more reserved nature.

your friends don’t help your case either. they snicker during lectures while haerin is trying to take notes, organize her planner, or simply pay attention. even in the halls of the building or on the  respective way to your classes—you somehow manage to pass by her at least twice a day—-your friends are making you push them away because they made you laugh too hard and suddenly the quiet of the arts building is filled with your voice.

so, she didn’t really acknowledge you at first despite the connections you shared with two of her friends eunchae and minji. but when you decided to switch majors before your second semester and started spending more time in her building, ruining the comfortable routine and atmosphere,  that was the beginning of her personal second semester curse.

(haerin’s heard of the infamous second semester curse; she figured it’d just be due to a heavier academic load and whatnot, not for it to manifest in the form of you.)

and if she was being honest, you’d never actually done anything to her. haerin was just being a little more judgmental than she liked to admit—or as her best friend danielle would say, “you’re just being the usual haerin”—and you, all bright and loud, were simply everything she wasn’t very fond of. it was easier to dislike you that way.

but today, she finally had a tangible reason to back up her detestation.

“holy shit—” haerin hears you curse, your voice panicked as sneakers squawk against the gym floor.

the world spins a little as haerin presses her palm against her head, wincing. 

you’re already sprinting over, wide-eyed and breathless, guilt written all over your face as you slow down to a stop.

“i’m so sorry,” you blurt, unsure of what to do now that you’re right in front of her. “i swear i wasn’t aiming for you—are you okay? can you stand? should i get someone? oh my god i’m so sorry!”

your voice fully registers in her mind and through the haze of pain, haerin blinks up at you.

of course it had to be you.

of course you had to hit her.

of course you had to look at her like that—so worried, so intense.

and for some reason, that annoys her even more.

“i’m fine.” haerin says through gritted teeth, holding the side of her face that was pummeled by a volleyball. now it makes sense why you’re the star outside hitter, because it hurt. it wasn’t even your worst spike. 

she grumbles, “could you watch where you’re hitting next time?”

“i’m so sorry, really.” you hesitate, hand still hovering awkwardly in the air before it reaches over to haerin’s so you can check the side of her face, but she steps back.

“seriously,” she says, sharper this time. “i’m fine.”

you flinch a little at her tone, guilt flashing across your features before you try to cover it up with a sheepish smile. 

“right, um, sorry.” you say, backing off and biting the inside of your lip. “but seriously, i’m so sorry. you can, um, like, hit me back if you want? you can throw the volleyball at my face in return—ah, um, revenge. eye for an eye? or i can treat you to something… if you…”

your voice dies down at the sight of her glare, and because she’s taken her hand off her face and wow the color is nasty—a dark red that might just fade into a near purple in the next hour.

she looks at you, unimpressed, and flatly says, “i’m not five.”

you laugh under your breath, scratching the back of your neck. “fair. but if you change your mind, i won’t argue back or anything,” you offer, pointing to your cheek dramatically. “free shot. no consequences.”

for a second, haerin truly wants to slap you in the face. she wants to roll her eyes and walk away. wants to keep being annoyed, to keep clinging to that righteous, simmering dislike she’s built up for no reason.

but you stand there so weirdly genuine and stupidly endearing in your own loud, clumsy way that makes it harder for her to hate on you the way she wants to. 

she huffs—loud enough for you to hear and swallow lightly from her terrifying energy—then gives you a small groan before turning and walking away without another word.

behind her, you raise your voice just a bit as you call out, cheerful despite the tension, “i’ll take that as a maybe!”

haerin doesn’t turn around. she just keeps walking, cheeks nearly as warm as the side of her head.

—

the next day haerin has to add a good two layers of color corrector, concealer, and foundation in order to cover up the giant bruise on the side of her face. 

after the incident yesterday, the nurse gave her an ice pack and a “take care!” to compensate for your damage because ‘regular’ university students do not get the same attention as an athlete with a torn acl, unfortunately.

she sits down at her usual spot for her music history class, pulling out her laptop and current reading for the course as she waits for hanni. but before hanni can steal a seat next to her, someone else does.

“hi, i don’t know if you remember me. i mean, you probably do…” haerin glances to her right, jaw tensing at the sight of you and hearing your voice. “i, um, got you this…”

you hand her a small box of strawberry chocolate bites, offering her a small smile to break the tension. 

but haerin doesn’t give in.

“why?” she asks.

“what?”

“i don’t need your chocolate,” haerin responds flatly. “you can go back to your friends now.” she adds, redirecting her attention back on the book in front of her. 

“no, no. please, i—i insist. i’ve been on that end, worse than what you had to endure though, and it’s really bad, just—”

“just because i’m not you doesn’t mean i can’t handle a ball hitting my face. i’m good, are we done?”

haerin notices the look of shock that makes your features twitch slightly. you avoid eye contact then, pursing a smile before pushing the chocolate toward her. 

“look. i’m not the type of person to let these things slide. it might seem small to me, but i want to make it up to you. take these chocolates for now,” you sigh, standing up. haerin looks up at you curiously, her expression never shifting as you finally say, “bye.”

—

there was a noticeable routine throughout the next two weeks that you couldn’t seem to break.

you’d cross paths with haerin often, because apparently fate had a terrible sense of humor, and you made sure to acknowledge her each time. it started off small” a smile, nod, or a soft “hey” in her direction. none of it was overbearing, just… persistent. it’s how you are.

even when haerin pretended to notice (she sure noticed each and every time), you never faltered. if her gaze so much as brushed yours, you’d light up immediately, offering a little wave that would never fail to be left hanging. 

in class, it was the same. she always sat in the same spot — the third row from the front, fourth seat in — and you always scanned the room for her as soon as you walked in. when you found her (which you always did), you’d stroll past, knock gently on the edge of her desk with your knuckles, and smile before heading to your own seat across the room.

haerin didn’t understand any of it.

why were you being so nice to her? what were your intentions?

it was all so… strange.

hitting her in the head shouldn’t have led to… whatever this was. she’d expected you to move on and forget it. you have much bigger things to worry about anyway, as the outside hitter. instead, it felt like you were making a point to force your way into her peripheral vision every single day.

she’d been skeptical, very skeptical. she’d spend a few minutes zoned out, trying to think about what you were up to, and why it seemed so welcoming. but no, haerin can’t give in. that’s not like her, not for someone like you.

it wasn’t until her confusion simmered down that she found herself out one afternoon with her group of friends huddled around a crowded table at a campus cafe, sipping on iced teas.

“remember when you told us about the volleyball-to-your-head incident?” minji asks, switching the conversation topic from the most annoying professor to you.

haerin raises a brow. “yeah, why?”

“y/n’s been spiraling because of it.” minji says casually, twirling her straw. “because of you.”

haerin blinks, caught mid-sip. “...what?”

“yeah.” minji grins. “she thinks you hate her. she feels awful about it.”

hanni nods, a bite of a sandwich halfway to her mouth. “i feel bad for the girl,” she adds around a mouthful, earning a look from danielle. “sorry dani. but yeah, minji was telling me about it kinda. damn.”

“so you’re just going to tell hanni about a story that involves… me? without telling me first?” haerin rolls her eyes playfully.

“okay well to be fair she’s my roommate so how about that.” minji argues. “anyway, ever since the volleyball thing,” she continues, leaning forward like she’s about to drop the craziest news ever (knowing minji, it’s probably not that crazy), “she’s been convinced she made an enemy out of you. like, actually upset about it. she keeps asking me if she should apologize again, if she’s being annoying, if she should just stop trying…”

haerin stares at her, stunned into silence.

you? of all people? spiraling because of… her?

 “maybe she’s just not used to people like you, ‘rinnie. i don’t know her like that but i heard she’s very lively and outgoing and basically your complete opposite.” danielle giggles softly. “and i thought i was bad.”

“plus, she thinks you’re like a ghost or something. she sees you everywhere, apparently,” minji adds with a laugh. “she’s kinda going insane.”

for a long moment, haerin just sits there, her fingers gliding along the condensation on her cup. the irritation that she pairs up with you in her head fizzles away just a little.

she hadn’t realized it got to you that much. she never realized how much you truly cared about how she was affected by your killer spike.

maybe, haerin thinks, maybe she’d been a little too quick to judge. 

maybe you’re not just loud and obnoxious. maybe you’re just trying to mend things.

“i guess i’ll be a little nicer. you can’t blame me though, that bruise was purple. i’m just glad it wasn’t that close to my eye.”

“i’ve had worse.” minji snickers, earning a glare from her.

—

today, you have your music history class. 1pm on tuesdays and thursdays, seventy-five minutes long, and one of two classes you have with kang haerin.

you also share the class with two of your teammates: kazuha, the most reliant, talented setter you know, and yunjin, whose killer vertical and presence at the net make her the best middle blocker in the region. 

while the two are a dream combination on the court, they’re a nightmare in any academic setting.

out of the three of you, you tend to be a little more reserved, which says a lot. your composure breaks without fail because they’re so loud and unfortunately so hilarious that it makes you cackle and completely lose any self-awareness in class, or anywhere in general.

yunjin’s nudging you as you three walk up the stairs, teasing you as soon as you reach the second level of the building.

“are you ready to be ignored by kang again?” she snickers, grinning from ear to ear. “i think she hates you even more after all of whatever you’re doing.”

“oh shut up.” you groan, shoving her with your shoulder. “look, i’m trying to be nice. do you know how fucking bad it is to get hit in the head with a volleyball? dude, that wasn’t even my best. it was practice. i feel so bad… one time i got hit by ryujin’s spike and—”

you shiver, remembering how puffy and purple your face had been after the game against your rivals. you looked like you’d gone ten rounds in a boxing ring.

and you can’t stop thinking about haerin after, pinching the bridge of her nose at the thought of her. the faint swelling after the incident, the way her concealer couldn’t quite cover the bruise. the fact that she hadn’t said a word about it, just sat there stiff and silent the next day in class.

“—i need to make it up to her.” you mumble under your breath, almost to yourself.

“wow. i’ve never seen you so sorry.” kazuha hums thoughtfully, sipping on whatever flavored latte she has in her hand. then, she nudges you, nodding her head toward the woman you injured two weeks ago. “but seriously, it’s impressive. i’ve never seen someone make being nice this tragic— hey, now’s your time to shine.”

you glance up.

it’s nine in the morning and you always pass haerin on your way to your first class of the day. today is no different. 

she’s put together, headphones in, and headed straight towards you. 

you feel a lump in your throat. every day, every time, you say hi. and every day, every time, she ignores you.

but you can’t help yourself. you swallow lightly, raising a hand and smiling at haerin. to your surprise—she looks up and meets your eyes, holding the contact for a second longer than usual, something almost unreadable shimmering along the surface before she shifts her gaze forward like it’s nothing, continuing down teh hall.

she acknowledged you. 

you turn to watch her walk away, stunned. “guys, maybe she doesn’t hate me.” you gasp under your breath.

“or maybe: you’re delusional.” yunjin clicks her tongue. “there was probably something on your face.”

“was there?” you say in a slight panic, pulling out your phone to check yourself out. there’s nothing but your plain old face, the face that haerin looked at for four whole seconds.

you can’t be delusional, there’s no way.

when you go to your next class, your spirits are still lifted. you step into music history half an hour later. kazuha and yunjin are already in their seats since you left them to go grab something from your car, and by the time you glance over they’re laughing at something on yunjin’s phone. you linger longer by the door, adjusting your hoodie.

out of habit, your eyes find haerin—third row from the front, fourth seat in—posture perfect with her laptop in front of her, earbuds out now.

something is different this time when you look at her, because she’s already looking at you.

you feel your breath catching. a flash of nervousness rushes through your body and you have no clue why. she blinks once, twice, then quickly turns her focus back to the screen, fingers typing calmly like nothing had happened.

still—you catch yourself smiling, chest a little lighter than it had been all week.

something is different. you can feel it.

and for the first time you can relax your shoulders, because it feels like you’re not just fighting this silent losing battle anymore.

—

you see her again thursday morning, but yunjin and kazuha aren’t there to witness your five seconds of embarassing yourself. 

today her hair is up in a bun and she’s wearing a plaid long-sleeve button paired with wide-leg sweatpants—she looks good, and now that the thought pops up… when hasn’t she?

“hey,” you blurt out before you can even think about what to say after. “good morning.” you add with a friendly smile.

she slows down, her brows twitching just barely as she looks at you like she’s thinking of what to say. maybe she’ll utter nothing and walk off. maybe she’ll reprimand you. to be honest, you don’t really care what happens next because it’s better than nothing.

“hi.” she says quietly, flatly. she breaks eye contact and walks right past again.

your smile widens, and each step down the hall feels brighter.

—

the week ends for most people with relief, but not for you. most friday’s are spent at the university’s court for practice, running a few warmup laps around the small court to get you going.  

everything continues on normally: your team pairs up to pepper for ten minutes before moving into spiking drills, setting, receiving, and perfecting minor details before moving on to scrimmages. it’s a routine you could never get tired of, one your body knows by heart. even when you’re sore and dreading practice, you love it.

what breaks the usual routine is a certain someone showing up twenty minutes before practice ends. 

haerin walks through the door with two of her friends. you recognize danielle and hanni since they’re a weekly feature on your teammate minji’s instagram stories. while everyone gets back into order, your eyes linger on haerin. what you don’t expect is for her to lock eyes with you for a split second, a moment that makes you stop in place, before she breaks the contact. 

you catch the group sitting in the bleachers, sparking a sudden urge to try a little harder.

the last twenty minutes of scrimmage consist of you doing very well. your turns are sharp and precise, your spikes heavy and quick—even some of your teammates are shocked at the sudden boost of energy. you’re playing almost as well as you would in a real game, and maybe it’s because of a special someone in the crowd. maybe it’s to distract her from the fact that one of your spikes left her in the nurse's office.

when practice ends, you run a few laps with your team before stretching together, though not without trying to sneak a peek at haerin to find that she’s already doing the same. you have to fight back a smile each time.

and after everyone finished changing, you caught up with minji, nudging her arm with your elbow.

“hey buddy,” you greet with a teasing tone. “nice blocks today. your vertical is getting better by the day!”

“thanks,” she laughs. “and… buddy? since when did start using that?”

“since now?”

“you sound ridiculous,” minji sighs. “so, what did you need from me?”

“i already told you! you’re doing better… and… well, i have a question.”

minji sighs once more.

“what’s with your little friends showing up?”

“no,” minji starts, raising her eyebrows. “what’s with haerin showing up.”

“no…”

“...yes,” she counters. 

you huff, rolling your eyes as you step back onto the court. minji’s friends are still sitting in the third row of the bleachers, laughing at something from what you can tell. and then minji looks at you from the side, raising her brows again and tilting her head, motioning for you to follow her.

you hesitate when minji starts heading over, but give in anyway.

“i’ll just say hi,” you mutter, more to yourself than minji. your teammate shrugs. 

when you arrive, they’re already headed down the bleachers—it’s a little terrifying. haerin is second after danielle, with hanni trailing behind. you watch as danielle leaps over to hug minji, then catches you while her arms are wrapped around your teammate.

“oh hey!” danielle beams into minji’s ear. “you must be y/n?”

“yeah, right on!” you respond with the same energy. 

then your eyes land on haerin, who’s fixing the collar of her t-shirt before meeting your gaze once again. the energy in your body dims down, your jaw tenses, and you feel like a movie character when the background blurs behind and it’s just them.

“hi haerin.” you greet warmly. 

she scans you again as if she’s figuring out whether or not you deserve a response. you gulp shallowly.

“hi.” she responds. her friends turn their heads toward her, clearly amused. then, her lips curl up just barely, almost imperceptibly. if you weren’t so hyperfocused on her you wouldn’t have caught it. “i’m surprised you didn’t hit anyone in the face.”

your heart beats against your chest like it’s trying to escape. 

minji bites back a laugh as you awkwardly chuckle before saying, “well, that’s progress.”

haerin’s brows raise just a bit as she adds, “your aim must’ve improved.”

minji doesn’t hold back her laugh this time, slapping your shoulder. something about haerin’s light teasing warms your chest, there’s a grin on your face as you respond, “just for you.” and maybe it was risky, but it makes haerin’s lips turn up just a little more. it feels like a standing ovation.

“well,” you begin, because your heart might explode right there and right now. “i was just catching up with minji. i have to uh, i have to… catch up with someone else. see you haerin— and um, you two as well— hanni, danielle.”

they all giggle before waving to you, though haerin only offers you a small smile that makes you want to celebrate.

—

haerin lifts up her head after sensing someone’s presence right by her side. she assumes it’s hanni, so she doesn’t bother to look right away. but when she tilts her head and glances over, it’s not who she expected.

“morning.” you greet, casual, but a faint smile is seen on your face.

you��re here early, haerin thinks. usually your friends would make it before you, loud and probably sharing their whole weekend with the class unknowingly. you’d show up just before class started and scan the room for haerin before making  your way over to the back to join the disturbance. not that she’s keeping track or anything though. that’d be ridiculous.

she blinks once. “morning.”

she turns to grab something from her bag, assuming you’ll leave sooner. but you don’t. instead, she feels your lingering presence beside her desk.

“so, how was your weekend?” you ask, equally awkward as sincere.

“fine.” she replies without looking up. 

you nod, waiting, but nothing conversational trickles in after.

your attempt at dissolving the tension is by clearing your throat, trying not to make it weird. “that’s good. did you do anything fun?”

she turns her head just barely, meeting you halfway—sort of. “why are you bothering me?” she asks, and the bluntness makes you stiffen a little.

your lips part but nothing comes out. you hesitate before answering, “i’m waiting for my friends.”

her brow lifts slightly as if she doesn’t believe you.

“you don’t believe me, do you?” you sigh. “this isn’t me doing charity work because i left a bruise on the side of your face that one time. that was an accident.” 

“right.” she says dryly, her lips twitching faintly.

“i swear!” you blurt out, flustered now. “i felt so bad—like, genuinely. i was gonna ask minji if i could venmo you for your medical bills or something—”

haerin cuts you off by letting out a quiet huff of laughter, looking at you properly for the first time. the corners of her lips lift and something in her eyes soften.

“has anyone ever told you how dramatic you are?” she questions, amused.

you fake a pout. “whatever.”

“you know,” she turns back to her desk, fighting a smile, “you’re not bothering me. i also feel bad that you look like a loser, all lonely and all. you can stay a bit until your friends come.”

“what did you say?”

“you heard me.” she says with a smile. 

and just like that, you’re pretty sure your morning’s already made.

—

you’re not really sure why you decided to put an effort into stepping over the line to make it on haerin’s good side. all the waving at her and making your presence known—maybe it could be labeled as bothering—had been spontaneous. 

there was no doubt that you were drawn to her for whatever reason. maybe it was because she caught your eye each time you would pass her near the beginning of the semester. maybe it was because you looked for the familiar face once you got the rhythm of when you’d briefly be within her presence. 

she was also on minji’s instagram occasionally, so you had a clue of who she was before attacking her face with a ball. and you’d stalked her instagram maybe once or twice on a random evening just because she was tagged in a story. she seemed nice and all, so why not talk to her more?

plus, she was nice to look at at. she had the kind of face that lingers in your mind after being around her, sometimes at night too, or even in random bursts throughout the day. she’s a new smile in your life that you start getting used to. 

haerin found you to be an addition to her routine, a very unexpected one. 

you’d appear at the end of the hall, sometimes with your friends—but recently it had been just you—and wave to her. when it was just you, you never failed to ask her how she was or how her day had been so far, everything friendly. and if she were being honest; she didn’t mind all this energy from you, if anything, she really liked it. 

it took a bit of time for haerin to reciprocate, maybe because of the grudge but also because it was difficult to talk to someone who used to be a world away from her. but here she is asking you if your practice is well, when your games were, and further inquiries that introduce you more as a person. she truly liked getting to know you, even if she pretended to be reserved and hesitant at times.

—

“hey,” you greet haerin as you walk up to her.

haerin isn’t sure when the bumping into you turned into willingly wanting to catch you in the morning or afternoon. this time, she’s waiting in the lobby instead of lingering in the usual hall, and she’s caught you by surprise with the slight change.

“hi.” she greets back.

you’re wearing a blue baseball cap with capital ‘a’ in white on it. your hair is pushed down by the cap just a bit, urging you to swipe it away to prevent it from blocking your view. a loose, white graphic tee also hangs over your figure nicely, complemented by a nice pair of jeans with a color that suits you well. you adjust your cap, finding the way it sits on your head a little off, and haerin wonders why she hadn’t realized how cute you’ve been until now.

“so, i was wondering.”

“oh no.” haerin sighs.

“hey!” you whine playfully. “well now i’m not going to say it.”

haerin looks you square in the eye, tilting her head down and raising her brows just barely.

“okay well if you look at me like that…” you surrender, fixing your hair just a bit. “since we have that mini exam, i was wondering if you wanted to go to the library to study… or, we could hit that cafe nearby.”

“there’s a lot of those.”

“well i know a nice one.”

“me too, y/n.”

“everytime i feel like we’re getting better at this, you suddenly find a way to hate me again.” you joke, but haerin lingers on whatever ‘this’ is. you continue, finishing your thoughts, “but yeah, after class, are you down?”

“sure, sure.” she agrees.

and then you smile, teeth peeking out just a bit. haerin feels a weird tingle run through her body.

—

the tingles get worse the next two weeks.

she spends more time with you, getting a little more personal and she likes it a little too much. you tell her the main reason why you switched majors. you were pressured into something law related, but after taking one elective for that path, you knew it wasn’t for you. and then you did that thing where you rambled on about something you liked a lot, in this case you had rambled about your love for playing the bass, which is the main reason you switched.

“you play bass?” haerin’s eyes widen just a bit from the initial shock. you are so much and so normal at the same time. “since when?”

“ummmm when i was like ten i think. i’ve always played and enjoyed it, even had a few gigs, but my parents wanted me to do law or something that would rack up money.” you shrug. “i got a nice scholarship because of volleyball and realized that i could just… do what i like. and what i like is that—more than anything, really—so....”

she turns to see you staring ahead. you’re both walking across campus to meet up with your friends at the food court, but haerin can’t think about any of that when the afternoon sun is kissing your features perfectly. it hits her that you’re really good-looking.

sure, she knows that’s also another key factor that plays into your reputation. people praise you for your skills, how lively you are, but also how nice on the eyes you are. haerin gets that now.

you catch her staring hard, a smile forming as you mumble, “what?”

haerin snaps back to reality, looking ahead again. “nothing. just thinking, sorry.”

“it’s fine.” you assure, running a hand through your hair. 

when you arrive at the building, ready to split ways to meet your friends, you tap haerin on the shoulder as she turns to leave. she turns, tilting her head and says, “what?”

“you know, if you ever want to see me play bass… you could just ask~”

“you’re full of it.”

you snicker, shaking your head. “well. if you ever stop accusing me of being narcissist, maybe i’ll invite you over to a gig.”

haerin narrows her eyes. “whatever. you should catch up with your friends. i’ll see you, bye y/n.”

“yeah, yeah. see you, haerin.” you smile at her and it feels like the ground beneath is stealing the energy from her knees, nearly knocking her off balance.

—

something about haerin has you rolling around in bed. 

before you dressed in your most comfortable pajamas, flat on your stomach with a pillow under your chin as you stare at your phone, you had spent the evening with minji and her friends—haerin being one of them. 

you set your phone face down and rub your face in your hands. 

it was a spontaneous outing, and you had nothing better to do, so why not tag along with minji? it wasn’t anything crazy, just casual and friendly. all of you strolled along the boardwalk not too far from downtown and playing stupid carnival games. it was fun, especially when hanni and minji started arguing over who would win the most tickets before the sun would set.

what was the most jarring was haerin. nothing in particular, just everything about her that night.

she showed up in a baby tee, beige cargos, and that face of hers. there was something about her that night, or maybe there had always been something about her that you never fully realized until the glow of a building hit her features perfectly. you two were the first to meet up—coincidentally— and without the rest of the group it felt like all the confidence had slipped away from you.

it took a second to greet her, your eyes in awe from how pretty she looked with the slight change in her makeup, or maybe the smile formed on her lips as her eyes landed on you.

you roll over to lay on your back, face still in your hands.

 your cheeks feel significantly warmer as you recall haerin lingering by your side the whole night. her hand had brushed yours multiple times—you remembered each and every time out of fifteen—and she was just so different, charming even, with her friends around. it was a slightly different side of her, one that had your heart beating slightly faster the whole night. 

you can’t stop thinking about the moment she fixed the cap on your head, the hair on your face, and her fingers brushing against your face before telling you how stupid you looked with the loveliest grin. it made your stomach churn. 

the thought of her couldn’t—cant leave your head, even as you take your hands off your face to pinch the bridge of your nose and shut your eyes tightly. 

“what is wrong with me…” you mumble, sighing.

you pick up your phone again, opening on instagram and tapping through stories until minji’s suddenly pops up. your brows furrow slightly as you scan it, eyes lingering on the picture of hanni and haerin, but mainly haerin in that frame. 

she looks good. you can’t get over it. and her user is tagged as well, so you click on it out of curiosity and infatuation.

she has two posts, much less than most people you know. the first one has four slides and a cat emoji as the caption. the first picture is a simple selfie of her with a very neutral expression, one which you stare at for a little too long. the next one is a similar selfie, though she’s smiling instead and you spend more time on that one. the last picture is a cute cat on the street, it makes you smile.

when you catch yourself smiling, you throw your phone across the bed, groaning into your hands.

—

haerin shows up to your next practice without warning you, but to be fair, neither of you had the chance (or guts, really) to ask for each others numbers. the only thing you had was the fact that you were now mutuals on instagram and the fear that held you back from texting her a simple “hi.”

 she’s in the bleachers reading a book—reading while you’re practicing. it makes you laugh more than it offends you, but there’s no reason to be offended anyway. haerin is just being haerin.

you try a little harder just in case she decides to steal a peek at you. today is mainly you serving and spiking up a ton while the rest of the team works to receive it, but when it comes to scrimmaging, you do your best—almost. 

practice ends and instead of heading to the locker room with your team, you run up to haerin, who’s head perks up when she catches the blur of your figure in her vision.

“did you miss me so much that you couldn’t help but stop by and watch?”

haerin scoffs. “don’t flatter yourself.”

“tch, whatever.” you respond.

before she spills the reason she’s there, her gaze shifts to the sweat glistening on your neck, then down to your collarbone, your shoulders, and arms. it’s oddly alluring, but she pushes it down by gulping and meeting your eyes again, trying to ignore the stupid smirk on your lips that tugs at her heartstrings. 

“you put your laptop charger in the wrong bag. i figured you’d be here, so—” she pulls out your macbook charger and hands it to you. “—here.”

“haerin,” you mutter, grabbing the charger. then, you put your other hand out and say, “give me your phone.”

“what?”

“just do it.” you urge, and she surprisingly does.

haerin watches you type in something, then hears the phone vibrate. “my number.” you say it like it’s obvious. “so you don’t have to spend your time reading while the sound of our yelling and the volleyballs distract you.”

“it wasn’t distracting.”

“then why’d you come?”

“to see you.”

your face heats up immediately. 

“whatever. are you doing anything after this?” you ask with a twinge of nervousness in your tone. your thumb presses down on the charger in your hand, an attempt to cool your nerves. “lets hangout?”

“look who’s the one missing me now.”

“oh whatever. do you want to, or no?”

haerin rolls her eyes. “okay, but wash up. you’re sweaty and gross,” she says, her look falling to your bicep as it flexes while you squeeze your charger.

—

“so, you and y/n?” minji asks one afternoon, lazily sitting on the couch.

haerin looks up from her laptop, raising a brow. “what?”

“what’s with you two? are you guys dating?”

“what?” haerin repeats, though much more baffled than before. “where did you even get that idea?”

dating? that’s ridiculous. two people can spend more time together, become friends and whatnot. that’s not dating. and plus, you’re still a world apart. if you’re not around her you’re in your bubble above her, floating around far out of her reach. you guys are nothing more than good friends. you’re nothing more than her good friend.

“y/n talks about you a lot.” minji shrugs, but the flicker of mischief in her eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. “a lot.”

“because we’re friends.”

“y/n and yunjin are best friends, but i haven’t heard much about yunjin in a while.”

haerin bites back immediately. “because you know her as well, you guys are teammates.”

“i know you too, haerin. it’s the same.”

minji’s just being ridiculous. there’s no way she’s implying that you have a thing for her. there’s a ton of girls lined up for you and for you to be fixated on her of all people would be ridiculous.

“there’s a lot of people who are into her, but it seems she’s only into you.”

“i—” haerin doesn’t know what to say, she bites her lip instead.

could you really be into her? she thinks hard about it. you’re so oblivious and idiotic, it would be much more blatant if you were actually into her.

“maybe you should pay more attention to her, because she pays a lot of attention to you, haerin.” minji says, followed by a smirk.

haerin groans quietly, sinking in her spot.

“you’re being stupid.”

minji shakes her head. “i think you’re trying to deny what i’m trying to say because you’re also into her—whether you’re going to accept that or not.”

—

minji’s accusation is proven right when it hits her—or rather you, quite literally—not too soon after the night on the couch.

haerin agrees to go to one of your games, but she doesn’t admit it’s because of you. she purposely meets up with minji first, pretending she isn’t eager to see your stupid face. when you run up to her in your uniform, the short sleeves hugging your arms just right, she has to fight back a huge smile. 

you raise your brows, giving her a teasing little smirk. “look who decided to show up.”

“you love to flatter yourself.”

“and you.” it’s a risky comment coming from you, especially when it’s paired with a wink. your teeth catch your lower lip like you regret it—maybe it was too risky. but haerin finds herself scoffing to distract you from the blush spreading across her face.

haerin gets some downtime to meet up with hanni, danielle, and eunchae in the stands. and then the game starts before she process what’s going on.

your team shows up all smiley in their jerseys, the crowd cheering. haerin isn’t on the loud side, so she claps for your team—a sharp contrast to hanni and danielle who are screaming at the top of their lungs. 

somehow, you catch her in the crowd, winking at her before slapping yunjin on the back to boost her spirits. haerin shakes her head, smiling as she does so.

the game starts off well for your team. yoon’s serves throw off the team in the beginning, giving your team a bit of a headstart before they grow accustomed to her. kazuha’s setting, paired with how quick and determined you are on the court, score two-thirds of the points in the first set.

the second set is rougher, with the other team winning by a few points. haerin can see the frustration in your face from where she’s at. the way you tighten your jaw after each slip up and how minji slaps your shoulder to keep you from losing your cool. she’s never seen you so serious, not even during practice. the way you hold yourself on the court is tremendously different from how unserious and carefree in class or alone with her. it’s admirable—also really attractive

the game goes on. you play well. really well.

the third set has you pumping your fist with each successful spike. haerin’s never been into volleyball like that—eunchae was the one who had to explain all the rules while the game was running—but she can tell that you’re incredible just from the way you leap, score, and celebrate.

everyone cools off a bit before the fourth set, determining if you’ll have to play another rigorous round or if you’re ready to celebrate a win against your rivals. 

it begins well, with one great serve from lily that scores the first point. yunjin’s quick to block a spike from the other side, and then kazuha’s dump scores another point for your own team, earning a slap on the back from you that’s too hard for her liking. she pushes your head roughly with a smile on her face.

for a while, the game goes smoothly—until it doesn’t.

your rivals’ star ace spike was faster than you could react, the ball hitting your temple unexpectedly with a force matching your own spikes. the sharp sound catches everyone off guard, and it’s followed by a few gasps, then cheers as the ball lands on the ground after your team loses their focus to look at you with concern.

it hurts, but you shake it off, signaling that you’re fine with a toothy smile and a thumbs-up.

haerin’s sitting up straigher in the stands now, worry etched into the way her eyebrows furrow. danielle glances at her, brows raised, but haerin says nothing. she doesn’t blink once until the game continues on.

everyone’s on the edge of their seats nearing the end of the game—your team is a point away from winning. the other team serves, your team does their best to keep them from scoring, then the ball is on the other side for them to deal with it.

and then, unbelievably, it happens again—this time way worse. 

their outside hitter jumps, swings, and the ball hits you directly in the face clean, and blood shoots out from your nose like something out of a cartoon. the crowd gasps, and haerin flinches as if it hit her too.

you recover quick, blinking hard, and yell at yunjin. she runs after the ball, keeps it in the air, and the game continues. your team scrambles, recovers, and you manage to run up, leap, and score a winning point that echoes in the court.

the gym erupts.

you exhale in relief, losing strength in your legs and laying on the ground with your eyes on the ceiling. blood trickles down your lip, mixing with sweat, and dripping onto the court where you lie down. it’s kind of gross, but you can’t really bother to care because you’ve won. 

the athletic trainer rushes over and makes you sit on the sideline, ice pressed to your face, tissues jammed up your nose almost comically. your team scrambles around you, and you brush them off, telling them you’re fine.

as soon as you’re left alone, haerin doesn’t think—she just moves. she scoots past legs and bags and down the bleachers, walking fast toward where you are.

you look up when she approaches, and all she can think of is how completely stupid you look. stupid and cute.

something sharp and certain twists in her chest.

she likes you.

not in a maybe, possibly way. in a real way. in a “you just bled all over your team’s side of the court, it’s on your jersey, and you’re still smiling at me like that” kind of way.

“i’m fine,” you say, like it’s the most normal thing in the world to be grinning with blood drying under your nose.

she sits down next to you, looking at you with worry in her eyes. “you look like an idiot.”

“an idiot who scored the winning assist~” you hum happily, then pause. “maybe this is payback for the time i hit you.”

she narrows her eyes and shoves your shoulder—not hard, but enough to make you laugh.

“i hate you. i still have a grudge because of that but,” she smiles, then continues, “that’s way too harsh for payback.”

you laugh—sort of, through the tissue—and it’s not even that funny, but she laughs too. 

and for a second, the sounds around you fade. the gym, the team, the chaos. it all blurs. everything clicks into place like it’s always been leading to this.

it scares you both simultaneously—how real it feels, how quick it settles in your chests—but it also feels safe. god it feels warm. like this was supposed to happen eventually.

you like her. she likes you. it hits you both at the same time—the third time something has hit you today, but this one hits way harder.

—

when haerin sees you next, your face is still swollen from the game a few days prior.

you’ve shown up to class without bothering to cover up the giant purple mark around your eye and another red mark on your nose bridge. but still, like always, you greet haerin with a smile before heading to your friends, who poke at your face on purpose and earn a pained groan.

“damn, ryujin got you good… it’s still there!” kazuha snickers poking you again. “jesus christ, it looks like you got punched.”

you shove her off, scoffing. “i’ll give you a similar mark if you keep it up.” 

“you better pray that the mark fades into something better, friday we’ve got that gig.” yunjin reminds you.

a lightbulb appears above your head. you’ve totally forgotten about the gig you landed—with the help of yunjin—after your little triumph on the court from a few days ago. your rub your face in your hands a little too hard and it hurts, making kazuha chuckle. 

yunjin arranged a little gig for you and two other students to play at a lively restaurant downtown. you’ve been a few times, and each time there’s been musicians brightening the atmosphere while bringing people together. out of all the places, this is the one you’ve been wanting to play at the longest. how could you forget?

it’s been a while since you’ve had a gig, if you’re not counting late-night bedroom sessions with friends, friends of friends, and friends of friends of friends in someone's dorm or rooftop. the though of performing in such a long time, after being occupied with volleyball, makes you a little nervous.

“fuck,” you mutter. “i completely brushed that off.”

“well, you better be ready by then. we’ve got to practice for that after practice practice.” 

you nod, sighing at the slight sting of your injury. your eyes land on haerin, who’s writing something down on a sticky note and placing it in her notebook. she turns to say something to hanni and your eyes linger on the outline of her side profile.

a thought pops up in your head, one that makes you smile ever so slightly.

—

“so i was thinking,” you start, watching haerin turn to look at you with an “oh god,” expression plastered on her face.

“that’s not good.”

“would you not.” you sigh. “just let me finish.”

you two have been studying european music history together on the second floor of your campus’ most popular cafe. chatter is spilling out from every table, some mixed with the sound of writing or a pen tapping against the table, which does a decent job of making the process of studying your least favorite era less dreadful.

haerin has on a slight blush and lip balm that tints her lips, a no-makeup kind of look that prompts you to steal glances every few minutes or so. you can’t not glance at her, not when her hair is up in a high bun, some shorter hairs falling over her face shifting around just a bit everytime she laughs at your stupid jokes or looks up to think about something. 

“okay, fine.” haerin giggles softly.

“as i was saying,” you continue, but haerin is momentarily distracted.

the oversized t-shirt’s collar is loose enough to reveal a fraction of your collarbones. it drapes over you lazily, complimenting the slight tousled look of your hair. plus, you just look cute in general that it had made it really difficult to study with full concentration. the swelling had gone down and the bruise faded ever so slightly, but there’s a natural flush on your cheeks that lingers from the inflammation that haerin can’t help but find adorable. she looks down at the table, biting down on her back teeth and pursing her lips to give you her full attention.

“i have this… thing on sunday. it’s nothing big, kinda…” you say a little quiter than before. haerin’s distracted again, but just a little. your mannerisms are caught by her eye immediately; the way your voice simmers down to something slightly vulnerable when you’re serious, how you bite your lip in between sentences, and the way your eyes dart around are enough to tell her that it’s actually ‘something big.’

“down at that restaurant near the waterfront, the one with the good burgers and italian food—i have a um… a gig.” you explain, eyes meeting haerin’s again to search for something. “and you know, i’m gonna play bass, and yunjin’s gonna be there too with some others. we’re just gonna have fun, have a good time, a good night and stuff. i was um, i was wondering if you wanted to come.”

before haerin can respond, you clear your throat and clarify, “actually, i’m not really asking. i want you to come.” 

haerin is speechless for a moment, responding with only a blush dimmed by the ambience of the cafe and a smile.

“i’d like that.”

“really?” your posture fixes just a bit from sheer shock. “great. you can bring a friend of course! i don’t care, but i’d… i’d like to see you there. i’d like to spend time with you after my little thing too.”

she laughs and her head tilts a bit, eyes softening as she looks at you with those dumb, adorable blue light glasses slipping down near the tip of your nose. her hand moves over to push them back up, making you smile like a child.

haerin moves her hand back to her laptop, eyelashes fluttering as she blinks and says, “i’m looking forward to it.”

—

panic crawls up haerin’s spine before she can stop it.

she was supposed to have everything under control—finish her assignment early, take her time getting ready, maybe even have some downtime before heading out. but the essay took longer than expected because she lost half of her sources somehow, and now she’s scrambling. she types at a speed that blurs her vision and biting the inside of her lip with each typo just to submit with barely thirty minutes left to get ready to see you. 

haerin’s usually composed, easy-going, and on top of things. but now there’s a small pile of clothes tossed on the bed, her phone buzzing with the time, and her thoughts spinning faster than she can catch them. the bus stop is five minutes away, which means she has less time than she thought. her fingers have trouble zipping up her bag.

she ends up in something simple, making her second guess (but there’s no time for that, really). her hair is braided in two, something simple and hopefully cute enough for you. the braids fall neatly over her shoulders, parted slightly off-center. her makeup is light to match the striped, long-sleeve top she has on, paired with comfy jeans. it’s casual, but hopefully enough to make a statement, or get you to notice her, or maybe—

she closes her eyes, thinking of how ridiculous it is to be thinking so hard about her impression on you. she wants to look nice—wants you to think she looks nice. it’s stupid. she knows it’s stupid. and it’s conflicting in the sense that she’s standing in the mirror trying to impress someone who might not think twice about what she’s wearing. but she can’t help it.

now she’s tying her sneakers and thinking about how you’ll see her when she walks in. if you’ll glance at her for a beat longer than usual. if you’ll say anything. and that thought alone makes her blush so hard she has to put a hand over her face, thinking, what’s gotten into me?

—

haerin gets there a little late—heart banging against her chest from the walk and nerves—but it’s fine. the outdoor area is dim from the setting sun, the lights are warm and hazy, and you’re just about to start. the crowd isn’t crazy huge, but only two tables aren’t filled with a group of friends or couple. she spots a table for two, walking over and passing people talking over drinks, leaning into each other, swaying slightly even before the music begins.

you’re on stage, tuning your bass, laughing at something yunjin says into the mic. haerin spots you immediately, and before she can duck or think twice, your eyes catch hers through the crowd.

the moment is like a movie. everything slows down and it’s just you. your face lighting up—small, just a grin—but she feels it right in her chest. you look thrilled. like her showing up meant the world. like she’s not just another person in that room looking for a nice friday night. like she’s there for you and you only and the thought of it makes you soar.

she finds a spot somewhere off to the side, still in your line of sight. the music starts. something low and smooth and groovy—your fingers working the bass like it’s second nature. haerin’s never really paid attention to bassists before. but with you, it’s impossible not to. 

she’s suddenly too aware of every single thing you do. everytime your fingers shift to another note, the way your eyes flicker over her a little too often—none of it goes unnoticed.

yunjin stands beside you, her energy laidback, teasing. she waits for you to finish the opening chords, then strums into the rhythm, syncing naturally with the beat. you move with the rhythm, eyes mostly on your bandmates but still drifting back to haerin again and again like you can’t help it. 

the chorus creeps in, you step up next to yunjin, nodding at her like there’s a silent understanding of what’s up next. the crowd sways with you two, reeled in by your energy and playfulness. you alternate the lyrics with yunjin; she sings the first part of the chorus, and you sing the second part. 

“cause basically i—” yunjin starts, before passing it to you, “i just wanna ride with you”

your voice slides into the space, low and clear, easy but intimate.

“i gotta getcha—’cause i just wanna vibe with you”

yunjin keeps it light, laughing a little as you bump her shoulder during her next line, but when you return to your part, your gaze locks in on haerin. 

“‘cause i just gotta know if you want me too,” you sing. your voice is like silk, the tone is almost inviting, “dontcha want me?”

the lyrics feel different—like they mean something deeper and you’re not just singing it to entertain the crowd, like you really mean what you’re singing and it’s not just the song.

haerin’s heart races in her chest. she feels it even in her neck, in her fingertips, and the thrill of it makes it impossible to look away. the way your voice fills the room, rich and warm, and she’s hanging on every word. you sing with such ease, so naturally, as though this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. and with every chorus that yunjin flows into, you complement her voice without failing to make eye contact with haerin as you dance around with yunjin. 

dontcha, 

dontcha, 

dontcha, 

dontcha want me?

the outro loops, and she’s completely under whatever your voice has cast. her head bobs along, a faint smile on her lips, not even trying to hide how enamored she is. 

as the song ends, you pause for a moment, fingers still resting on the bass strings, and meet her gaze. you have the same look from before. a quiet understanding. your smile isn’t wide now, but it’s full of something softer, steadier. like you’re both aware of the new realization that hangs in the air. 

haerin rises with the rest of the crowd, clapping, her expression a little different now—slightly flushed, eyes bright. she makes her way to you once the applause dies down and people begin settling back into their seats after everyone on stage says their final words of appreciation and gratitude. 

it’s just you and her again. 

you’re both quiet. not because you want to be, but because haerin opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. and on your end, it feels like your brain short-circuits the second you see her up close. 

she’s standing there with her hands fidgeting around with the end of her top, her cheeks are pink from the slight chill of the evening or maybe from the song—maybe both. her hair catches the light in soft waves, and her eyes, even as she glances down, make you want to collapse then and there. she looks up again with those gorgeous brown eyes you could probably stare at for the entirety of a lecture and longer and your brain is fuzzy and twisted and tangled. 

the golden light from the streetlamp pools down against a window and it somehow reflects perfectly to make her face glow more than before. everything about her feels surreal, a little too good to be true.

and before you can even process anything other than the slight tilt of her head, you say it.

“wow.” 

your voice is quiet, breathy, like you’ve just found a new wonder of the world. 

she glances up at you, lips parted like she was about to speak, but your next words beat her to it.

“you look beautiful.” and it’s not smooth, or practiced. it falls out of your mouth clumsy and too honest. but the second it slips out, you mean it more than anything you’ve ever said.

her eyes go wide for a second, and then she laughs—soft and flustered and caught off guard. her eyes dart away like they’re too shy to hold yours anymore. she shifts on her feet, head ducking slightly, biting the inside of her lip just barely. 

“you’re just saying that,” she murmurs, her voice quiet but warm, still not quite looking at you. 

“no,” you say, immediate, because it’s true and you need her to know it. “i mean it.”

she laughs again—maybe to calm her stuttering heart, or because she is way to flustered to act normal at all—and smiles into the sidewalk like it’s the only way she can keep from blowing up then and there.

(something like that)

you watch her closely, your heart racing, but not from nerves anymore. from something else. something lighter. better. 

“i um, i—” you pinch the bridge of your nose, cringing at your stutter. haerin laughs, and you do too before continuing. “thank you for coming. i was really looking forward to see you.”

“you were?”

“of course i was, idiot.” you grin. “have you eaten yet?”

haerin thinks to herself briefly. she had crammed before meeting with you, and if she tried to take even a bite out of anything she probably wouldn’t have been able to swallow it just from the overwhelming rush of nervousness that washed over her just from thinking about you and seeing you.

“no. i didn’t get the chance.”

“let me treat you then! the burgers here are great. lets grab two and share the fries,” you suggest, putting your hand on your stomach. “and i’m really hungry after all of that.”

haerin rolls her eyes, then chuckles. “of course you are. let’s go eat, y/n.”

—

after dinner, and saying all your goodbyes to everyone who showed up, you end up walking along the waterfront right outside the restaurant.

(yunjin makes sure to wiggle her brows at you two, and tease you until you’re blushing even harder than before.)

the night is quiet except for the sound of water lapping gently against the edge of the dock and the occasional breeze. the street lamps light up your path, and your steps slow naturally, like neither of you are in a rush to go home.

you nudge her arm gently as you walk. “you know, i always wanted to get to know you better.”

she glances over, rasing an eyebrow. “since when?”

“since that day i hit you in the head.” you laugh a little, eyes on the water now.

she groans. “seriously?” and you grin.

“i felt so bad—you were so pissed,” you say fondly. “i did everything i could to warm up to you because i was so, so sorry. every time we passed each other, you’d act like i didn’t exist or give me that look… my friends poked at me for it but i was kind of fascinated.”

haerin’s already laughing now, shaking her head. “you’re so weird.”

“probably.” you admit with a chuckle. “but i liked finally getting through your skin, getting to know you… you just— you stood out. i don’t think i’ve ever met anyone like you. and i didn’t stick around because i felt bad for giving you a giant bruise. i just thought you were interesting, and smart, and pretty. and when you say you hate me and call me an idiot it only makes me want to stick around and bother you more.”

your voice dies down a bit. haerin notices the shift in your demeanor—something shy, nervous, and adorable.

“i thought you were so odd for wanting to stick around,” she finally says, glancing at you with that same familiar side-eye, but softer this time. “and i didn’t like you before because we were in two different worlds and… your friends were so loud.” she jokes.

you pretend to clutch your chest, gasping. “wow, i’m hurt. you hated me without knowing me?”

“i didn’t hate you!” she defends, pushing you softly.

she laughs again and you both stop walking, pausing near the edge of the water. she’s still smiling when she looks at you, but her voice is smaller when she speaks again.

“i’ve really grown to admire you,” she says quietly. “and i’m glad we’re here, and you invited me to your little gig and i finally got to see you play bass and you…”

“i’m glad we’re friends—kind of,” you say softly, quietly. she looks up at you with a confused expression, to which you respond by looking away, smiling at the water in front of you. “i’m saying ‘kind of because’… i’ve kinda had a thing for you for a while and i’m really glad you came and i wanted to ask you out tonight but god it feels like my heart is beating out of my chest and—”

you inhale, then look her in the eyes before exhaling your confession, “haerin. i really, really like you.”

she doesn’t say anything at first. just looks at you, her eyes darting across your face like she’s searching for something in the sparkle on the surface of your eyes. 

then, slowly, she leans in and kisses your cheek. it’s quick, barely there, but you heat up almost immediately. your chest warms, and then your face, and then your whole body.

you blink. your cheeks are flushed like crazy—they have to be—and haerin pulls back, clearly flustered now too. she bites back a smile.

“i really like you too,” she mumbles, looking anywhere but at you. “you’re so cute. i hate it.”

you grin. “sorry.” 

“don’t be. i like it.” she responds, earning a playful scoff from you.

you can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night. neither can she.

—

your first official date with haerin is downtown, but it’s nothing too far from a usual hangout other than the fact that both of you are crazy aware of the mutual feelings, mutual everything. haerin smiles at you the whole time and you want to capture the moment and hang it on your wall.

the second official date is nothing crazy, but it’s really domestic for a second date. 

you invite her over to your place since yunjin’s out for the weekend helping her mom with something you completely forgot about. haerin shows up in a simple sweater and shorts and the sight of her alone earns a bunch of kisses pressed all over her face. she pretends to be annoyed, pushing you off and groaning playfully, but when you’re settled, she presses a soft kiss on your cheek and calls you cute. you nearly combust.

for a second date, it’s awfully intimate. intimate in the way that you were supposed to be watching a movie together, but a gust of drowsiness decided to sweep by. it hits you first, starting off with a small yawn that leaves your lips, and then your head falls to haerin’s chest, the thump of her heart lulling you to sleep. she’s flustered beyond measure at how calm and settled you look, snapping a picture before shutting your laptop and pulling your blanket over both of you. she moves just a bit so you can both lie comfortably instead of at a questionable angle, and the last of your energy takes over then, your arm wrapping around her.

the second date ends with you waking up to a dead-asleep haerin sprawled out on top of you. the soft breaths from her lips urge you to reach out your hand, even while half asleep, and brush the hair out her face, smiling before you succumb to sleepiness again.

—

an incident familiar to your first mishap with haerin occurs before you even get to your third date. 

it’s just like before–same gym, same rush of adrenaline as you play through another long rally during practice. the ball sails high over the net, your timing feels perfect, and without thinking, you leap up and spike it hard.

the ball’s trajectory decides to swerve and smack right into someone’s head.

you freeze.

it takes less than a second to realize it’s haerin.

“oh my god—” you’re already sprinting across the court before she can even recover from the hit, cradling her head with one hand while waving off the coach with the other. “are you okay? are you—can you see me well? how is your vision? do you feel dizzy?”

“i’m fine,” she says, blinking a few times. “it just scared me—”

“i just hit your head with a nasty spike, do not lie to me. i’m not taking any chances. come on.” you gently take her wrist, ignoring the fact that practice hasn’t ended yet as you pull her toward the exit. 

she doesn’t resist. she just walks beside you with that unreadable expression she always has on her face—though it’s slightly more readable when she’s around you and you take much pride in that—though you don’t catch the way she keeps stealing glances at you.

you head over toward the nurse’s offices, nearly barging into the hallway, but once you’re alone and the noise of the gym fades behind you, you stop and turn to her. 

“let me see,” you mutter.

she opens her mouth to assure you that she’s perfectly fine even though a stinging sensation lingers, but you’re already cupping her face in both hands.

your thumbs press softly against her cheeks, fingers curled just under her jaw, tilting her head from one side to the other. “you’re not dizzy? does your head hurt? is your vision—”

“i’m fine,” she repeats, but her voice is quieter now, and her eyes keep flicking between yours and your lips.

the proximity decreases the more you frown. concern is etched on your features as you inspect her like she’s made of glass. “i swear, i didn’t mean to—the ball just, i thought yunjin would’ve got it but—ugh, you could’ve been really hurt if it were a direct spike. your cheek is already deepening in color, your face—”

and that’s when she kisses you.

a quick, soft press of her lips to yours. barely there. just enough to shut you up.

you blink. 

she pulls back immediately and fills the silence, her voice small. “you worry too much.”

your hands are still on her face, and now they tighten slightly. and before you can overthink it, you lean in and kiss her again. this time it’s slower, softer, and certain. 

she makes a small noise of shock against your mouth, but melts into it a second later. her whole body relaxes completely. 

when you finally pull back you’re blushing like crazy. her eyes are widened and her smile grows the longer you look at her.

“... are you sure you’re okay?” you murmur, your thumb brushing her cheek. 

“i am, stop worrying so much.” she scolds, then giggles softly. “you still hit me in the head me in the head though—again.”

“sorry.” you sigh. “guess we’ve come full circle now.”

“i guess so, loser.” she laughs, then moves over to peck your lips again.

[ilium-ilia]

you're an angel // i'm a dog

kyle "gaz" garrick x fem!reader | omegaverse | alpha!gaz, omega!reader | masterlist

Chapter Four: melt

tw: omegaverse, strong emotions, kyle is having a rough time

These days, the only sound that comforts Kyle is the rushing of blood. 

Dispatched halfway across the world, far from home—away from you—he sits with a gun cradled in his arms and his teeth thirsty. Canines dry. Parched. Needing something. Perspiration. Tears. Blood. His index finger twitches as he pets the side of his rifle, tired eyes going out of focus as his spine curls forward, attention narrowing on the city below; dazzling lights, distant chatter, unsuspecting citizens.

It’s difficult to tell what his blood sings for—what tongues it speaks in. Something deep in his psyche already knows what it is. Something soft. Something he knows he cannot afford to crave, especially at a time like this. Yet the memory of your demulcent voice and pitchy jokes is the only thing that can satiate this intense desire, and he attempts to recall it as heavy soled footsteps approach behind him. 

Oh yeah just… tired. 

He could’ve helped with that issue of yours. Your heat. He should’ve. He thinks he wanted to. Curl up around you, bury you deep in a nest, drown in your scent, fuck you until the ache vanished. Kyle’s playing with his safety now—switch clicking back and forth, a tinny tink accompanying the movement. He wants to play with you like this. A simple push of a button, a flip of a switch. Wants to see what happens when the pretty pet begins to keen. 

Everything grows tight. His body swells. He’s becoming too big for this form. He cannot contain these desires—his mandible nearly shatters at the pressure. 

A hand clasps around his shoulder and he’s forced back into his body. “Ready?”

It’s Ghost. He could smell him coming from a mile away. Brutally overwhelming and brooding; enough to send the little pets back on base running. 

“Always,” Kyle says with an easy smile. 

But he’s not. 

For weeks he takes out this pent up energy out on the field. It dissipates in each bullet he fires, every recoil that reverberates throughout his body—but it’s not enough. His cup is filling before he has the chance to pour it out and he’s leaking. Spilling everywhere; an unsightly creature caught on the brink of normalcy and some animalistic craze. His insides never feel clean enough. He’s squalid. Tainted with something he already knows the name of but refuses to call. 

Kyle tells himself this tempest will quell when he arrives home and his nerves fizzle and relax, but the absence of explosions and radios only means his blood screams louder. There’s nothing to suffocate the way it bubbles beneath his skin, or how it pounds in his ear like a war drum calling for action—for violence, for devotion, to devour. 

He can’t relax. The bed isn’t right. 

He’s torn the sheets off and replaced them ten different times, rearranging the bedding and still finding it unsightly. Kyle finds that he can’t stop himself from sniffing it. Namely his pillow. It smells wrong. Off. Incorrect. An error he wishes to amend but can’t. Not even after a round in the washer does it smell right. 

It smells like a stranger—someone other than him. 

When twilight burns up in the dawn's early glory, he decides that he cannot stay here trapped in these four walls. So he runs. Tumbles down the stairs until he’s outside. The chill morning air feels like shards of ice against his feverish skin as he makes the long walk to base. Hands shoved into the pockets of his jumper, hood pulled up high, eyes flickering to every bit of movement that dances in his periphery—he is some wild creature.

Kyle feels welcomed the moment he crosses the threshold onto base, and the quiet chatter of everyone in the main office is enough to stunt the thundering inside every vein and artery in his body for a short moment. He breathes in, and the faint aroma of coffee fills his nose. Rich and earthy. Then, vanilla. Cream. Soft and sweet—airy. 

Then—you. 

He sees you before he smells you, but it doesn’t soften the blow. Standing, the back of your thighs leaning against your desk, the top button of your blouse left undone. You’re smiling at your coworker, gaze too bright for how early in the morning it is. You’re cradling a pastry in your hands, giggling at the way frosting stains the corner of your mouth as you attempt to take a bite. He witnesses the pad of your finger swipe along your lips, and how you then press it against your tongue, savoring the flavor. 

What he would give to have licked it directly off your skin, tongue slipping into your mouth, sharing the flavor as he breathes you in. That sillage. It shuts off every neuron in his brain, leaving only the stem alive, where it feeds only the most basic of desires. 

Chase. Run. Bite. Bite. Devour. Bite. Bite Bite. 

Before he sinks his teeth into you, he rushes to the gym. Bursting through the doors, it’s pleasantly abandoned. Nothing but lonely workout equipment and buzzing lights. Discarding his jumper onto the edge of the treadmill, he doesn’t bother to do any stretching before he hops on and cranks up the speed. Everything starts to fade. The blood in his ears. Your lingering scent. It’s just him, the thudding of his feet, and the burning of his calves and thighs. 

Even still, something slices through the grey matter of his brain. Each step he takes he imagines it’s through a forest, deciduous and soft right at the turning of summer into autumn. You’re ahead of him, shoulders dancing as you skip between thick bramble, fingers grazing against trees as you look behind to see him, a grin plastered on your face as you giggle. 

He catches up to you. Easily. Like it’s nothing but second nature. You squeal, titter echoing through the trees as the two of you fall in a plush bed of fiery leaves. It surrounds your head like a halo—you’re an angel beneath him, chest heaving from the chase, eyes yearning for him to take a taste, for him to unhinge his jaw and fit all of you in, quivering scent gland piercing beneath his teeth, filling his mouth with your sapor, with everything he’s ever wanted, with everything he’s ever needed—

“Garrick.” 

—it’s you. He needs you— 

“Garrick?”

—something soft, something warm, something to fill, someone to—

“Garrick!” 

Loud. Grating. Nothing but nails shoved in his ear canals. What’s worse is the hand. Fat palm on his shoulder, slowing him down, nearly tripping him up. Snarling, Kyle slows the speed until it’s stationary and once his mind stops spinning, he snaps his head to the side, jaw clenched, eyes narrowing in on Ghost. 

“What?” he hisses. 

Even from behind his mask Kyle can see the way the man raises his brows. Cocking his head to the side, he crosses his arms. The alpha widens, massive body naturally growing taut. 

“The fuck’s gotten into ya?” Ghost asks. 

“Nothing.” It’s snippy. Short. Rude enough to get his sergeant to chuckle. 

“Yeah? You look like you’re tryin’ to kill yourself,” Ghost challenges. “Come off the treadmill, Gaz.” 

“Why?”

“Because I fuckin’ said so.” 

There’s a retort that dances so deliciously on the top of Kyle’s tongue that he almost spits it out. It builds in him—this sweet anger—and he wants to let it flow. He knows it would feel good, like breathing in fresh air, or stretching muscles that have been sore for too long. Instead, he bites off the tip of his tongue and swallows it down, nearly choking on it in the process. 

Kyle swipes at his forehead when he steps off the machine, smearing a thick layer of perspiration across his arm. He wipes it off on his pant leg before placing his hands on his hips. 

“You smell wrong,” Ghost says casually.  

“Wrong?” He breathes in, attempting to calm the boiling of his blood back down to a simmer, but it refuses to relent. “Suppose I’ve been feeling a little sick.”

The man shakes his head. “No. No, this ain’t sick.” Intruding, Ghost leans forward, nose audibly sniffing. Kyle places a hand against his chest and he freezes, then leans back. “Fuckin’ hell, can you not tell when you’re going into rut, Garrick?”

This claim is almost enough to shock Kyle out of this mindless rage—rut. He doubled his dose of suppressants not too long ago. No, this is something else. Something different. It has to be. 

“No,” Kyle says, shaking his head. “I’m on suppressants.”

“Well they’re not fuckin’ working,” Ghost deadpans. “When was the last time you were even in rut?”

His eyes only darken when Kyle doesn’t answer. 

“It’s fine,” he tries to brush off. 

“Go to the showers,” Ghost huffs as he turns around, hand waving him off. 

Left floundering, Kyle attempts to walk after him. “Simon, c’mon man, don’t fucking do this to me.” 

“I said go to the fuckin’ showers,” he reiterates. “Don’t make this any worse than it already is. This shit’ll kill you, Garrick, and I’m not lettin’ that happen.” 

He tries to pretend like it doesn’t wound him wandering off into the locker room like a dog with his tail between his legs, but it does. There is something worse than this festering heat that grows within him—something that not even the frigid water spewing from the spout can tame. He attempts to drown it out as he shoves his head beneath the flow, but it still screams just as loud as it always has. 

Shame. Shame for not being enough. 

For letting everyone down. 

It only takes ten minutes for John to find him. Work boots beat against the concrete floor, and Kyle can hear the way he groans when he sits on the bench just outside his cubicle. Though the stall door and shower curtain protect him from view, he still faces away. Head bowed as if already repenting. 

“Thought I told you to get a stronger dose,” John says, tone even. 

“I did.” Every word Kyle speaks has teeth too sharp for their own good, and his eyes squeeze shut at the cacophonous sound. “I can’t go up anymore. They won’t give it to me.” 

John sighs long and heavy into the echoey air. “Take the week off.” 

“What?” He’s reeling, fingers curling into the palms of his fist, until the nails nearly break skin. “No, I’m still good, I can still do this.”

“Do what, Gaz?” John asks with a chuckle. “Ferry my paperwork to the sweet pet in the office? Help lead drills? We just got back from deployment. Consider this R&R, not a punishment. I’m sure some pretty omega will come limping around when she smells the stench on you.” 

He wants to scream, but instead he rubs at his face, palms pressing into his eyes, water beading around his collarbones. Nothing seems to work. Every pore in his body pumps out more and more sweat—his true nature has come to haunt him. To finally take him. 

To teach him a lesson. 

“Alright, Gaz?” John prompts when he doesn’t get a response. 

“Okay. Right. Yes, sir,” he mutters. 

John says his farewell, but Kyle can hardly hear it over the frustration clogging his throat. It grows, and grows—then shatters. Fist against the wall, white tile kissing his knuckles, shockwave reverberating through his arm until he feels the dull sting in his shoulder. He curses to himself. None of this was supposed to happen. Things weren’t supposed to end up like this. 

Huffing, Kyle turns the water off, fingers lazily twisting the spout, and as he reaches for the towel hanging on the curtain rod, he pretends not to notice the small cracks he left in the tile behind him.

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[organic-bloodbath]

Hi, I apologize in advance for any mistakes, English is not my native language.. I like the way you write. may I ask salesman and his wife. A semi-nswf story about his wife saying the safe word in the process? A little fluff and comfort 👉👈 If you don't write this, then I'm sorry, have a nice day

Pumpkin

Salesman x Wife!Reader

Summary: As above.

Warnings: NSFW 18+, smut -> minors get tf out

A/N: This is a little shorter than my usual fics i think. He might be a hot psycho with others, but he's a total softie with his wife ❤️💙

"Pumpkin," you gasped quickly. "Oh, fuck, Pumpkin!" He immediately stopped and looked at you with a concerned look on his face.

♡♡

He was thrusting in and out of you with as fast pace as he was able to, pinning your hands above your head.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked quietly and let go of your wrists, cupping your face with his hand. "Was i being too rough? Did i hurt you?"

"It just," you panted. "It was becoming too much to handle."

"Do you want to stop? We can end this here if you need to."

"No, no," you hurried to say before he managed to pull himself out of you. "Just, a little slower, okay?"

"You sure you want to continue?"

"Yes, please," you nodded and kissed his lips. "Can we switch?"

He lifted his eyebrow but moved to lay next to you on his back. You were almost always the bottom, so he was surprised by your request, though wasn't against it at all. You sat on top of him, burying his cock back inside you, soft moan escaping your lips as you sat down. You put your hands on his chest, and he grabbed the side of your thighs, helping you move your hips back and forth at a right pace.

You closed your eyes and threw your head back, enjoying every inch of him inside you, nails digging on his chest.

"My god, you feel good," he gasped. He didn't close his eyes, unlike you, only looked at your gorgeous figure as you moved on him on a little faster speed now.

He sat up and wrapped his arms around your waist as you kept moving up and down on him. He started peppering kissed on your neck and along your collarbone, sucking marks on your skin on exactly the right spots. You slid your hand in his hair, pressing on the back of his head and gently massaging his scalp.

He brought his face up and took you in a rough kiss. As you let out a deep moan, his tongue found its way inside your mouth. You were starting to get tired, and he seemed to notice it by your slower movements now. He put his hands firmly on your ass, helping you move better.

"Oh my god, i'm so close," you whimpered, breath hot against his face.

"Come for me, baby," he muttered, locking eyes with you.

Soon after, you felt pleasure waving through your entire body like sparks of electricity. Both of you were complete moaning messes in the end, until he collapsed back on the mattress, pulling you with him, his arms tightly around your back. You were panting hard and he brushed your hair with his fingers as you laid on top of him, not able to move a muscle for a moment.

"You were amazing, honey," he whispered and planted a kiss on your temple.

"You too," you said quietly, completely out of energy and breath.

"I love you," he whispered and pressed his chin on top of your head. "I'm sorry if i hurt you."

You turned your head upwards, looking directly in his eyes. "I'm alright, don't worry." You pressed a short kiss on his lips, causing a small smile to spread on his face.

"You sure?" he repeated with furrowed brows, looking concerned.

"I'm good, honey."

"Good. I'll go and make us a hot bath," he said and got up. You pouted a little when he rolled you away from him and left you to lay there alone.

You stayed lying on the bed, wrapping the blanket around you tighter. He always had a bath with you after you'd had sex, every single time, unless you didn't have much time left to spend together. That was usually if he had to leave for work soon, but tonight he was all yours. Even if you would be left alone, he would still prepare a bath for you.

It would take a while until the bath was going to be ready, so you took your phone from the bedside table and noticed a few messages you had received.

Jae: "i'm NEVER again going to a blind date."

Jae: "call me asap i gotta talk."

Mom ♡: "Did you ask your father about the plans next weekend?"

Mi-hee: "i got the day off, wanna do something on sunday?"

You managed to answer to two of the texts, not having the time to deal with Jae right now, and then only stared at the ceiling, slowly gathering your energy back.

Sooner than you expected, your husband came back and you put your phone back to the bedside table.

"Come on, the bath's ready."

"Carry me." You bit your lip. "Pretty please."

He rolled his eyes, but smiled and took you into his arms, bridal style. "How could i ever say 'no' to you?"

You had been married for the past 7 years but it felt much less, like you were forever stuck in your honeymoon phase.

When you reached the bathroom, he gently let you down to stand on the soft bathroom rug instead of the cold tiles. You noticed that he had poured you two glasses of red wine.

He went into the water first, you right after. You leaned your back against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist. You let your head fall on the crook of his neck. The water was warm, and you knew you could fall asleep in his embrace right there and then if you closed your eyes any longer than a few seconds.

"Darling?" he said softly after a short silence and rubbed your shoulder.

"Hm?"

"Would you be ready to... try again?"

You knew what he meant. You had waited for him to start this conversation again, but was also afraid of it.

"Really? You want that?" You turned your head to look at him, and he was looking down at you.

"Of course," he said. "But only if you're ready for it."

Both of you wanted to build a family and have a kid or two. You had been pregnant once, but miscarried your baby couple of years ago on your second trimester. After coming home from the hospital, you had been a total wreck for weeks, even months, and felt like you could never have children, even though it wasn't true, and it would be too scary to try again.

"I mean," you mumbled. "Can i be honest?"

"I want you to always be honest with me," he insisted and caressed your cheek with his thumb.

"I'm just," you started, trying to find the correct word. "Scared."

He pressed a kiss on your temple. "I know. I'm scared too, but it could work out this time, you know."

"What if it doesn't?" you asked, brows furrowed. "I don't think i can handle that a second time."

"If anything bad happens, i'll be here for you on every step," he promised.

You didn't say anything and looked away from him. To be honest, you had thought about trying to get pregnant again, but you felt like you had lost all hope in that area. You knew women could experience miscarriage many times and eventually give birth to a healthy baby, but you didn't have the strength for that.

"Should we go to a doctor first?" you asked, feeling nervous. "You know, to see if i have any problems getting pregnant and with pregnancy overall."

"I can book an appointment if you'd like," he smiled.

"Okay."

♡♡

A/N: I wrote this rather fast but hope it turned out okay. I'm trying to get another part for the Ddakji series but struggling to figure out where the story goes so it'll take a while 👉🏻👈🏻

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hiii! Can you do one with emperor caracalla and what he would be like as a father?? I’m in a drought of carcalla fics 😭

Emperor Caracalla as a father

Caracalla x wife!reader

warning : fluff, hurt/comfort, mention of family problems, a bit emotional, kissing

info : Anon I love you thanks for the request, Caracalla is just such a ray of sunshine he's only better as a father ;) I hope you enjoy reading and sorry for not having a cover, but today was exausting.

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything has always been ours, never his. He may have been the younger one, the one with the problems, the madness and the insufficient seriousness for politics, but that didn't mean everything had to be ours, did it?

No, it didn't have to be because where Geta was in charge of politics and dealing with the Senate, it was Caracalla whose position was used to provide an heir, a marriage to a princess only the best for the human gods. A marriage that didn't bother him a bit, he loved his wife with all his heart, from the moment he saw the golden dress, the jewelry but above all her loving nature was what had won him over.

His sun was at its greatest and the happiness of the imperial family was only surpassed when the priestess announced his wife's pregnancy...a pregnancy that would soon make him a father.

°Caracalla as a father from the moment he heard that his beloved was pregnant from him he cried, not breaking out of his madness for the first time and apologizing to her, ,,I-I...I'm responsible...as much as I'm happy...what if our child goes into madness?" a question he asked her kneeling, his head resting on her lap and his hands clutching her tunic. The moments in the here and now were hard enough and his condition touched her, her hand stroked his head and gently made him look at her, ,,Even if the gods are not merciful, Caracalla it is our child, our little one it would not change anything” she assured him and pressed a gentle kiss on his head.

°The months leading up to the moment of birth were up and down for all three of them, Caracalla getting more and more nervous, seeming to switch back and forth between delusion and his mind. His wife helped him as best she could, praying to the gods that it would not destroy him, and a Geta who took care of both of them. But from the construction of the nursery, the preparation for their birth and the cuddles, it was a time of harmony and love. Every day Caracalla put an ear to her belly laughing whenever he thought he heard something and helping his wife as much as he could, even Dundus seemed calmer and not too demanding of his owner as if they all knew what was at stake.

°The further her pregnancy progressed, the more excited he became, talking to her and his child as if it could already hear him, ,,Of course it heard us! It's a little monkey as often as it moves,” he said, kneeling in front of his wife, who was mostly still sitting or lying down because of her belly, not to mention the pain and discomfort. Whenever he saw the moving and kicking he let his hand wander over it with hers, ,,Just as excited as his father,” she said softly and gave Caracalla another reassuring kiss, giving her everything she needed, almost as excited as the child itself seemed to be...until the moment of birth.

°The late night was filled with screams, in the empress's room the midwives helping her as much as they could and outside a crying Caracalla whose worries were growing, ,,What if she dies brother? A child without a mother? It's my fault, my madness? The midwives will die if she dies” he mumbled to himself, pacing up and down, waving a sword only to throw it away, his brother's words barely calming him down. He looked as exhausted as his beloved when the door opened and he interrupted the woman, ,,Is my sun alive?” he asked ignoring his child and running to the bed, his hand seeking hers and only calming down when he saw her exhausted smile, ,,Yes...I'm alive and so is our little monkey” she said and the midwife gave her the little boy wrapped in a cloth. A little boy with his blue eyes and her hair, a little baby who smiled a smile that infected his father.

°From that moment on, he was smitten with his son, little Solis ortus, who everyone called Solis, from the Latin for sunrise. The little one was born with the sunrise and came from his mother the sun itself, he was the joy of his parents a little baby who almost always seemed too happy, ,,He is so loving...and not full of madness” Caracalla said and wiped away a few tears when he saw the now small child crawling on the floor and playing with a few small figures, ,,Yes he is perfect just like his father” his wife said and once again held his hand.

°The years passed quickly and even though the madness in him did not diminish, erupting again and again and more often, this did not even happen in front of his son, ,,Father is fine Solis don't worry” he pressed out and retreated to his chamber, where he could go about his business surrounded by swords and blood without hurting his wife or son or Geta. In the hours he was gone Geta took care of his nephew in the little free time she had to give the Empress some rest, ,,It seems there are often two to take care of,” she said, giving Geta a grateful look as she turned from her son to her husband.

°The hours with Caracalla were hours of grief and love, she held him through the madness, took the sword away from him and if he cut her, shouted at her or even hit her, she didn't hold it against him. ,,It hurts, but having you back with me again for sanity, with Solis, is more important,” she reassured him as they sat together leaning against the bed, his head against her chest, mumbling words to himself and he kissed her body apologetically and she held him. Before both parents slowly reappeared and took care of the little prince who was their pride and joy.

°Apart from the madness, Caracalla was a good father, the skills he didn't have in politics like his brother or the talent for music and writing like his wife, he made up for with fighting and wit, with understanding and love for animals. For every hour that the ever-aging Solis spent with his uncle in the senate, with his mother on the harp, he spent twice as much with his father in the arena studying and training the animals. Dundus belonged to Caracalla but Solis, at not quite ten years old, had a mature lion, the beast of a ruler, powerfull as a sun and yet always playful at heart. Solis would become the best of his parents and whenever Caracalla noticed that the madness was not in his son, he was genuinely happy and gave his wife a kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@potatoesenpaii , @cottoncandiescupcakes , @k-yurieee , @somepallings , @userchai , @ohburrryoureabsolutelyridiculous

[woso-dreamzzz]

Helper II

Lia Wälti x Child!Reader

Leah Williamson x Child!Reader

Summary: You're sick

"Hey, no," Auntie Leah says sternly, picking up your kitchen stool and placing it up on the counters.

Usually, you use it so you can be tall enough to reach the sink to do the dishes or to help Mummy. But Auntie Leah doesn't let you on it to tackle the mountain of dishes in the sink just like how Mummy didn't let you join her this morning picking up all the leaves in the garden.

All because you had the sniffles and a fever last night.

It's gotten a bit worse now because your head is pounding but you think you're still well enough to do your chores.

Mummy and Auntie Leah don't agree so you're stuck doing nothing until it's time to go to training.

You hope that you get better soon so you can go back to helping out because you don't know what to do with yourself if you can't help and your half-finished puzzle on the coffee table is an afternoon activity and not a morning one.

That hope is promptly squashed when you throw up all over the living room floor ten minutes before you have to leave.

It's awful because you've made a big mess and Mummy won't let you fix it by cleaning it up yourself. She holds you in her arms and rocks you back and forth while Auntie Leah cleans it all up.

She doesn't even let you flick the light switch on and off twice like you usually do so this day is going to go wrong so badly for you.

You remain sick even after Mummy gives you medicine and some juice to hold you over.

You feel terrible, a big knot in your tummy as you curl into her arms while she carries you into the building.

"Guppy?" Your favourite puzzle partner Codi asks," Are you feeling okay?"

"Guppy's sick today," Leah tells her," She threw up this morning."

Codi makes a sympathetic noise before wishing you well and going back to changing.

You whine when Mummy sets you down in her cubby and you keep whining when she backs off to go grab her bottle from the adjoining room.

That's usually your job.

"Here, guppy," Auntie Leah says," Have more juice. It'll make you feel better."

It's a nice lie to tell you and it brings a bit of comfort so that's why you don't snitch on Auntie Leah to Mummy for lying to you.

You guzzle down your juice and Mummy returns with her bottle. She changes quickly before checking your temperature again.

"I'm sorry, guppy," She says and you already know what she's going to say," But I don't think you're well enough to help out the staff today."

Your eyes well with tears.

"Please, Mummy!" You beg," I promise I won't throw up again!"

"It's not that, guppy," She says," You're just not well enough. You need to rest today. Not do anything else."

"But-But!"

"I'm sorry," Mummy continues," But you're not changing my mind. We'll make sure you've got everything you need but you can't help today."

You sniffle but don't argue anymore.

Mummy gives you a blanket to wrap around your shoulders and a sports drink to keep your energy up and a little puzzle that doesn't quiet lay flat on the grass which is kind of annoying.

There's a sick bucket next to you as well that you'll make sure to use if you feel like you're going to throw up rather than ruin the pitch like you ruined the living room.

"How are you feeling?" Auntie Leah asks.

Her and Mummy have been taking it in turns to check in on you and you sniffle.

"Better," You say," Can I help now?"

"Sorry, guppy," She replies," But you know Lia's not going to change her mind. You've just got to focus on resting today. Maybe tomorrow."

"Please? I'll be good!"

"You're already so good, guppy," Leah assures you," But your body needs time to rest and recover like when I hurt my knee. You need to do the same."

You don't like that answer but you're a good girl so you do what you're told. You don't help. You stay with your blanket and your energy drink and your snacks until Mummy comes to collect you.

She gives you another round of medicine that you take dutifully before rechecking your temperature.

You wait and Mummy smiles.

"Looking good, guppy," She says," Maybe another day or two and you'll be better in no time!"

"Really?"

"Really really," Mummy confirms," I think this calls for opening your new puzzle at home."

You perk up at that. "Can Codi come too? I want to do it with her!"

"Go and see if Codi's free tonight and we'll see."

[tinylilacbun]

Rafe and toddler reader going on a road trip with Rafe’s friends and she gets car sick and vomits and crying out for rafe who is driving

You wriggle with your feet as you gaze out the car window, watching the passing scenery. Rafe took you on a Road trip with his friends to the mainland, only because he can't say no to those damn puppy eyes of yours.

You're his weak spot, everyone knows it but would never bring it up, knowing it would only trigger him on being called out for it.

That's how you're now strapped in your car seat, giggling whenever the boys start to laugh, not even understanding what they're laughing about but join in anyway.

You've been driving for a while now and you slowly start to feel a bit dizzy, whining a little and catching Rafe's attention.

He glances at the rearview mirror, seeing the little frown on your face he turns the music down a little. "You okay, kid?"

You only whine, not being able to explain to him that you're feeling sick as you yourself don't understand what's happening right now.

"Where's your paci, huh?" He asks, his focus switching back and forth between you and the road he watches how Kelce picks up your lovey with the attached pacifier from the ground.

You turn your head away from him when he tries to give you your pacifier, whimpering and lifting your hands to press your fists against your eyes.

"Uh, dude, she looks really pale here." Kelce notices and Rafe's eyes widen.

As if on cue you suddenly start to puke, retching until your stomach is empty, crying the moment you stop throwing up.

"Shit-" He curses, quickly halting the car on the side of the road.

He gets out of the driver's seat and rushes to open the back door, scrunching his face up a little at the smell of bile, but keeps himself together for your sake.

"R-Rafey..." You sob, rubbing at your eyes as the tears keep flowing.

"Yeah I- uh...I got you." He assures you, patting your head before unbuckling the straps of your car seat, inaudibly gagging but still manages to pick you up from your seat and sets you down on the ground beside him.

Once you're out of the car he grabs the bag that Kelce holds out to him, letting his frustration out on him at Topper as he snaps at them to make themselves useful and clean the car while he takes care of you.

You're still sobbing, now looking at the mess you made as your brother crouches down in front of you, looking through your bag for spare clothes. "M-M'sorry..."

"Hey, no, it's okay." He quickly soothes you. "It's nothing you could have controlled."

He pulls your shirt over your head and opens a pack of baby wipes, cleaning your face and hands or any other part that's dirty, his heart aching at how you're still sniffling.

"Look at me, kid." He says after getting you dressed in a new shirt and pair of leggings.

When you finally do he cups your face in his big palms, wiping the few tears that still roll down your cheeks, his voice soft and comforting, something that's only reserved for you. "It's fine, you hear me? You did nothing wrong and I'm not mad at you."

You nod and Rafe gives you a small smile, kissing your forehead before letting go of your face again. "Now, where's that pretty smile of yours, huh?" He asks, poking your side.

With a giggle you wrap your arms around his neck and he chuckles, rubbing your back comfortingly.

Soon the car was clean again and after Rafe helped you rinse out your mouth he buckled you back into your seat and got back into the driver's seat he made Topper look for the nearest drug store so he could get you something for the carsickness.

And he totally didn't buy you a new plushie, pff, no of course not. Just because it was in your favorite color...

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou @sunf1ower16 @sweetstars-posts @rafecameronsloverrrrr @rafenroostersgirl

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

[stellamarielu]

distraction

declan o'hara x reader

summary: literally just a short little blurb about joining declan for one of his infamous baths

content: nsfw, 18+, cursing, grumpy declan, playful banter, hairy naked man hot, bath time sexy time, fingering

author’s note: truly cannot believe i haven’t written something about taking a bath with declan… like??? thank god i’ve come to my senses

“What’re ya doin’ sweetheart?” Declan’s voice was low and rough as he questioned your sudden presence in the bathroom. 

You were pulling your shirt over your head as his eyes trailed down the newly exposed skin of your torso. 

He'd been sulking for far too long. You knew his his habit for soaking in the bath when he was stressed, and you figured he could use some help relaxing. 

“Thought maybe you’d like a little company.”

Declan was chuckling, taking one last puff from his cigarette before putting it out on the ashtray sitting at the edge of the tub. 

You were shimming out of the last of your clothing as Declan’s eyes shamelessly raked over your figure. 

“Could never say no to you darlin’.” He was smirking and leaning over the side of the bathtub, hardly able to contain his excitement over the idea of having you join him. He was entranced, imagining the way your soft skin would feel all slicked and wet against his.

"Jesus- Declan it's freezing in here." You were stepping one foot into the tub, the words coming from you in a low hiss as you felt the lukewarm temperature of the water.

He dramatically rolled his eyes at your exaggeration.

He knew you were one to bathe in scalding hot water, your shared showers always turning into a competition switching the faucet back and forth.

"C'mere princess, I'll warm you up."

The corniest grin had taken over his face. Finally he had allowed his thoughts to drift away from stress and toward something a bit more light hearted.

You were twisting and turning in the small space attempting to find a comfortable position against Declan's body, until you settled between his legs with your back on his chest.

"Long day?" You asked with your hands running along his thighs on either side of your body.

"Don't wanna talk about it." By the sound of his annoyed grumble, you could tell he was recalling whatever event had him stewing in the tub.

"In fact..." His voice shifted from irritation to something deeper— covertly playful.

"Don't really wanna talk about anythin' right now."

His hands that were gently resting against your stomach were now trailing further down, dipping underneath the water and inching between your legs.

"Declan. I came in here to distract you, not the other way around."

You were referring to the way his fingertips were now dancing over your clit. His gentle touch sending you into a state of complete bliss.

"Oh I'm distracted all right." You could hear the smirk on his lips as he continued tracing languid circles at the bundle of nerves between your legs.

"Doin' a real good job at pullin' me out of my slump sweetheart."

Your head fell back against his shoulder as his words purred into your ear.

"That's what I'm here for." Your voice was light and teasing beneath the sigh of relief escaping you. His touch had your toes curling and a quiet moan fighting to slip from your throat.

"Damn right it is." The groan rolling off his tongue as he sunk two fingers into you had your body melting into his.

“Gonna be good and let me use you sweet girl?”

His tone was somehow sweet and sadistic. The way he was speaking to you only adding to the pleasure coiling in your abdomen.

You nodded, the back of your head rubbing against the muscles of his chest. You were speechless as you let him take his frustrations out through the curl of his fingers inside of you.

All you could think about- other than how fucking good Declan was with his hands- was why on earth this was the first time you thought to join him in the bath?

[bandgie]

SKZ MTL likely to touch themselves in front of you - and be able to come with you watching them (and giving them praise) but not touching them?

I reckon Hyunjin would love this, and probably Jisung and Felix. Hyune would make a whole show of it, probably showering first and coming out with his hair mussed and dripping wet then dropping his towel and lying back completely naked to give you the performance of your life.

Ji would be shy the first time and stay fully clothed, just slipping his hand into his pants with his little chubby cheeks burning. But once he sees how much it turns you on and hears your words of encouragement he gets braver and shoves his pants down to let you see his fist working over his cock before he comes all over himself with a whine.

Okay I'm answering my own ask now I'll stop (but I have thoughts)...

most

Jisung!

you're so right! it's something he has to get used to I think. you're usually always touching him, stroking his cock and whispering dirty little things in his ear until he shoots hot cum into your palm. but having him do all the work while you watch is a nice switch up! might be a little nervous with a shaky grip, but when he gets into it he gets into it. whimpering and bucking his hips into his fist while you watch propped up on your elbows, feet swinging back 'n forth while cooing at him

Chan!

heavy on the mutual masturbation. you don't have to touch yourself, but he would looove to see your fingers playing with your pretty pussy while he rubs his tip. you need to talk him through it. constant praising, maybe even some directions on how he should stroke himself. and if you drool on his cock? he's busting right then and there

Hyunjin!

hot take! you need to coax him. call him a pretty boy and that you love every single thing about him. he's kind of like han in being shy, but you're right in him putting on a show once he's comfortable. bites his lip, throws his head back, lets out deep moans and the occasional gasping mewls when his tip gets sensitive. there doesn't need to be a whole lot of talking with him, but if you moan with him woooweeee he's creaming himself.

Changbin!

not me putting him lower :( but! I think binnie cums the hardest when you touch him. pinching his nipples, cupping his balls, something. then again, you could just stare into his eyes and call him your good baby and he'd be spilling cum all over the sheet on his own, but it sooo much better for him when he gets to feel you. not that he'll complain, whatever makes his baby happy

Felix!

he can jerk off no problem, but he needs a kiss. his tongue lolls out of his mouth desperate for your own. he wants to taste you, to ground himself on you. I feel like he'd take it personal if you didn't kiss him, he needs your lips constantly. if you're keen on not touching him, he'll take you spitting in his mouth. it's better than nothing.

Minho!

I think he would use it against you! making you keep your legs wide open so he could jerk himself off right over your wet pussy. he can see it basically sobbing for him to put it in, to rub against your slit, for any type of friction, but he'll just giggle and keep stroking himself while you whine. the only type of contact you'll get is his cum landing on your cunt and tummy :(

I.N!

jeongin has good dick, so like why would you want to watch him jerk off when he can fuck you? that's what he thinks at least (and it's true) but he'll try it out once or twice. it's not as easy to finish compared to when you're the one jerking him off, but he can't say it isn't hot. watching your hungry eyes rake over his body while he pumps himself. he'll run his free hand up and down his abs just to tease you

Seungmin!

tbh I so feel like he can be anywhere on this ranking. he just has some days where that's all he wants to do and others where fucking you is an everyday thing. he can absolutely cum without you touching him, but he's making you lick his cum up. sometimes he'll say you can just watch, but he'll have you on your knees throatfucking you minutes later. it ranges honestly, this man keeps it a surprise

least

[avocadorablepirate]

Beneath The Surface - Epilogue

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Summary: When memories, buried deep within your sea of emotions, resurface, you’re left to question what lies beneath the surface. Did he truly mean to leave you behind, or was there something more to his silence than you ever understood?

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of death, mild gore, OP spoilers, this story follows the Dressrosa arc.

previous | masterlist

Ahhhhh the official last bit of this series! Switched it back to second POV here, so apologies if that’s weird. Anyway, now I gotta go read the entire thing to see what my dumbass has actually written :D

The sound of the floorboards creaking stirred you from your slumber.

At first, it was faint - just the occasional groan of old wood beneath shifting weight - but the sound grew more grating, a restless rhythm that clawed at your nerves. You blinked groggily, vision still blurred. It took you a while to realise that the noise was coming from someone pacing the room.

Had it been anyone else, you're sure you would have whispered a half-asleep scolding. But across the dim room, the tall, lean silhouette of Law moved back and forth - hair slightly ruffled, brows creased and jaw tight, eyes locked on the floor he was wearing a hole into.

"What's wrong?" you asked, pushing yourself up slowly, the blanket pooling at your waist.

Law stopped abruptly, startled. His head snapped towards you, eyes wide - as if he'd forgotten you were there. His features softened when your eyes met, but a tight frown soon followed.

"Sorry," he mumbled, heaving a sigh.

"What's wrong?" you asked again, ignoring his apology.

For a moment he hesitated - caught in a battle with himself: to speak or stay silent. But when you patted the empty space beside you with a gentle look, he didn’t resist - he moved towards you. You were always good at this sort of thing - comforting him.

The bed dipped as he sat at the edge, elbows on his knees and face buried in his hands. "I had a nightmare," he admitted, voice low.

"About what?" you asked, shifting closer, until your shoulder pressed against his, feet dangling over the side of the bed.

His voice trembled when he answered. "That...that I don't make it in time. That I lose you."

"But you did make it," you said, voice tender. "You saved me. I'm right here."

"I know," he said, as though the knowledge was not enough to calm the fear. "But I still worry." He turned slightly, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes shut tight, trying to focus on your presence next to him. "Every time I close my eyes, I see it again. That haunting image of Corazon. But now, it's you as well."

You were silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond. You had similar nightmares of your own. It used to be your parents - sometimes it still was - but now, more often, it was Law. You wanted to tell him that it would get better, but even if it did, it didn't erase the ache in the moment. You knew that. He knew that.

Instead, you said something else.

"You know what this reminds me of?" you murmured with a small smile.

Law pulled away, eyes opening to meet yours, brows furrowing in confusion. "What?"

"The first time you spoke to me. I was curled up on that mattress crying and you came over and asked me what was wrong - or more accurately what my problem was."

He let out a quiet, unexpected laugh, the sound low but genuine. "I remember." He smiled faintly, recalling the moment - your eyes red and swollen, voice shaking as you told him your story. "You looked like hell."

"Gee, thanks."

"No, I mean..." Law glanced down, a rare hint of sheepishness on his face. "That was the first time I...cared. About someone. In a long time."

When he looked up again, you were already watching him - calm, sincere. Something about it made Law's chest feel tight. Affection? Or was it something deeper?

Whatever it was, it was enough for him to lean in.

His lips brushed against your forehead first - tentative, uncertain. You closed your eyes, breathing in the warmth of him, letting your fingers find his hand where it rested between you.

"You scare me," he whispered against your skin.

Your brows furrowed. "Why is that?"

He didn't answer right away. But you could feel the way he exhaled shakily.

"Because you make me want things," he murmured. "Things I don't deserve. You make me want this. Make me want you."

Your heart skipped.

“You've always had me, Law," you said, squeezing his hand.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Yeah, you kinda just barged in."

"Hey," you said, nudging his arm. "No one asked you to come console me."

"Someone had to shut you up," he replied dryly. Then, after a second, his tone shifted - back to that low, familiar tone. "But...I'm glad I did. Because you’re here now."

He turned to you fully, taking you in, really looking at you - not as someone he just happened to meet, not as someone he was told to protect, but as someone he couldn't lose. Not again.

His gaze dropped to the faint scar on your cheek — one of the many you’d gotten during the fight that nearly took you away from him. Gently, his thumb traced the mark, his touch featherlight but lingering.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice barely audible.

You leaned in instead.

His lips met yours - soft and gentle, yet unsure. But as your hand curled around the back of his neck, and his fingers found your waist, the uncertainty melted into something deeper. There was something desperate to it, more need than desire. It wasn't perfect, but it was real - shaped by pain, relief, and the strength of something that had endured through years of struggle.

When you pulled apart, your foreheads rested together again, breath mingling in the cool night air.

Law was silent, eyes mapping your every scar, every freckle, like he was committing them to memory. Then quietly - barely trusting himself to say it, he whispered, "I love you."

You didn't answer right away. You just pressed your forehead a little harder against his, eyes closing as you revelled in the moment.

Then you smiled. "I love you too."

The tension that Law had felt all night as he paced up and down the room, eased. His arms wrapped tighter around you, pulling you into him as you both laid down on the mattress. Your head found its place against his chest, and his hand drifted to your back, holding you close.

Outside, the world continued to move. But here, tucked away in a dimly lit corner of the ship, time stood still. The two of you simply existed. Breathing. Alive. And finally together.

—————

Thank you for reading!

taglist: @riftmage27 @enigma-of-grand-designs @sin-namonroll @crmnic @bluebunny002 @lynndt-chocolate @thekatisspooky @chillerkiller

[sirfrogsworth]

I'm moving out of the city and I'm going to have to learn to drive. Any advice for someone (reluctantly) looking into cars for the first time?

Sorry for the late response, but I really wanted to answer this because I think I have some relevant advice.

I started driving the very day I was allowed to get my learner's permit. I took it very seriously. My dad was a mechanic, my brother literally built a car when he was 16. They were car guys and I was the goofy comedian they didn't really understand. So I wanted to be a really good driver to impress them.

I practiced every chance I got. I took driver's ed in school and got a 100% in the class. And I got a perfect score on my written driver's test and only got dinged for 1 thing on the main exam (it was bullshit, but apparently there is no way to protest a near perfect score).

But then I got sick and it didn't make sense to pay for car insurance and maintain a vehicle. So I didn't drive for roughly 15 years.

Then both my parents got sick and they became dangerous drivers and so I had to figure out how to drive again. And at first I was nervous, but after about a week of driving, I was nearly as good of a driver as when I was younger.

The reason?

Muscle memory.

Muscle memory will save your life over just about anything. The less you have to concentrate on the physical actions and habits required to drive, the more you can concentrate on situational awareness. If you don't have to think about turning the wheel, or braking, or even activating the turn signals, you can use all of that brain power to pay attention to all of the dumb fucks they let drive cars.

So my biggest piece of advice would be to break down all of the physical actions required to operate a vehicle. Even the tiny stuff like switching the station on the radio or turning down the fan on the A/C. Then find a way to practice these things over and over and over until you have that muscle memory embedded into your brain. My muscle memory was so deeply ingrained that it lasted through 15 years of not driving and a batch of mind-wiping electroshock treatments.

Find a safe place to practice and just repeat things until they feel like second nature. Especially checking your blind spots. If you can get checking blind spots to the point where you do it without even thinking about it, you will increase your safety substantially.

Other tips...

Small cheap cars are best first cars. Big cars can make you feel disconnected from the road. Almost like you are piloting the vehicle in a video game. I started on my grandma's 1987 Chevy Cavalier. It was tiny. It had no power. It was free. But I could feel everything I was doing. I could feel the turns. I could feel the road. I could feel braking and acceleration. And it really helped me understand the relationship between driver and vehicle. It was like a big go-kart but I think having that as my first car really helped me develop my driving skills.

And my last tip is to learn gradient braking and acceleration. It's mostly for the comfort of your passengers. It gives them a smoother experience but it also makes them feel safer driving with you. Basically you want to figure out how to apply pressure to the pedals in such a way that almost no G-force is felt. So you start with very light pressure and gradually transition into the max pressure you need. And you need to do it quick enough to stop and accelerate at the proper rate. If you don't transition fast enough you might not stop in time or be able to merge onto the highway. And if you transition too fast people will be lurching back and forth in their seat. But, again, practice makes perfect.

My brother is horrible at this, though mostly on purpose. He likes driving like everything is a race. And with his muscle cars, that can be fun at times. But when you are just going to the store it can make one a little nauseous. I find myself just grabbing the "oh shit" handles and never letting go.

But if you can smooth out your acceleration and braking to the point it is barely felt, all of your passengers will thank you for it.

Hopefully that helps. And maybe other folks can reply with additional advice. And if you have any more specific concerns feel free to ask. I wasn't sure if you were more worried about driving or picking out a car, so hopefully we can collectively cover both.

I wish you luck and hope you learn to love driving. It is pretty cool once you get the hang of it.

[kats0nlin3]

who’s crying now? | steve harrington x fem!reader

summary A late-night study session is interrupted by an unexpected visitor — and even more unexpected feelings.

warnings 18+ only, mild language, minor romantic tension, suggestive thoughts (nothing explicit), Y/N, reader wears 👓

𝜗𝜚

“The most popular song in the land for the seventh big week in a row is by the Police, Every Breath You Take.”

You scribble a few half-formed answers onto the page, your pencil tapping impatiently against the margin as you glance back and forth between the paper and your open chemistry textbook. The formulas blur together, refusing to stick. Mr. Kaminsky’s tests were as impossible as Nancy had warned—no mercy, no curve, just pure academic brutality.

You sigh, sinking deeper into the uncomfortable desk chair you'd dragged from the kitchen. With your phone unplugged from the wall and snacks out of reach, you’d planned for a distraction-free cram session. Well… almost distraction-free.

A sudden scuffle outside the window breaks the silence—gravel crunching, a muffled thud, then footsteps. You freeze. A knock follows, sharp and deliberate.

Knock knock knock.

You groan audibly and throw your head back. The joys of switching rooms with your sister—unexpected visitors.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" you call, voice hoarse from lack of use.

Grabbing your robe from the edge of the bed, you toss it over your shoulders and stumble over to the window. You yank up the blinds and slide the pane open, the cool night air rushing in. There, leaning casually against the windowsill like it’s the most natural thing in the world, is Steve Harrington—Nancy’s boyfriend, Hawkins High's golden boy, with that smug half-smile plastered across his annoyingly perfect face.

“You know the front door exists, right?” you deadpan, squinting at him through the dark.

"Nice to see you too, Specs," Steve says as he swings one leg through the window and lands inside with a dull thud. He dusts off his jeans like he just did you a favor and not, in fact, tracked in half the yard.

"I told you to stop calling me that!" Arms folded tight across your chest, you glare at him. “And Nancy isn’t home.”

Steve shrugs, completely unbothered. "Figured. Guess I’ll just hang out here with you until she gets back."

Before you can protest, he’s already flopping down onto your bed like it belongs to him. Shoes and all. Dirt smears your comforter like a signature left behind by poor decisions.

“Absolutely not.” You march over and shove his feet off the mattress with more force than necessary. “Off. The. Bed.” You swipe at the muddy smudge with your sleeve, scowling. “I’ve got a chemistry test to study for, and with offense? You are the exact opposite of focus.”

“Well then just let me help,” Steve offers, already making his way to your desk like you’d said yes. He snatches your worksheet off the surface, squinting at it like it’s a foreign language. “What even is this? Did you write this during an earthquake?”

You shoot him a look. “You failed chemistry.”

“C-minus,” he corrects with pride, holding the paper higher as you reach for it. Of course, he pulls back—annoyingly fast, and the unfair height difference doesn’t help.

“In that case…” You make a grab for it and this time manage to snag it from his fingers, though the paper is now a crumpled mess. You scowl down at it, but barely have time to be annoyed before you realize how close you are to him.

Really close.

You’re practically pressed against him, and his hand—steadier than you’d expect—is resting lightly on your back, probably to keep you from toppling over during your little victory tug-of-war. His eyes flick to yours, and for a second everything slows. His smirk softens, and you’re suddenly very aware of just how close his face is to yours.

Then—footsteps.

Heavy, deliberate, climbing the stairs.

You both snap apart like magnets flipped the wrong way. Judging by the familiar weight of the footsteps, you don’t even need to look to know—it’s your dad.

“Hurry!” you whisper-shout, frantically motioning toward the window.

Steve’s eyes dart to the open window, his brain clearly running the math. He takes one step toward it—then hesitates. Too risky. Spraining an ankle before Saturday’s big game? Not worth it.

Without another word, he drops to the floor with a grunt and shimmies under your bed like some kind of reverse action hero. You barely have time to adjust your face before you plop back into your chair, heart hammering, and grab your pencil as if it had never left your hand.

Just then, your door creaks open.

“Hey, honey,” your dad says from the hallway, peering into your room with that sleepy dad squint.

You spin around in your chair a little too fast and give him your best innocent smile, praying the color has drained from your face by now. “Hi, Daddy! Off to bed?”

“Yeah,” he says with a yawn, rubbing the back of his neck. “Got to get up early in the morning.”

Your smile stays frozen, even as your foot nudges the edge of your bed, under which Steve is almost definitely not breathing.

“Well, have a good night!” you say, a little too brightly as you stand from your chair and cross the room to give your dad a kiss on the cheek. You hope the gesture distracts from the slight tremble in your voice and the growing pit of panic in your stomach.

He leans casually against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes scanning your room like a security camera with dad-level intuition.

“Something wrong?” you ask, doing your best to sound confused, innocent, and not at all like you’re hiding a teenage boy under your bed.

Your dad’s eyes narrow. “I thought I heard you talking to someone. Is Nancy home?”

Your brain scrambles for a response. “Oh! No—uh, I was on the phone. With Jonathan.”

His eyebrows lift a fraction. “Byers’s kid? This late at night?”

“Yeah,” you say, keeping your tone casual, even as your heart slams against your ribs. “We’ve got a group project coming up. We were just working out the details.”

“Hmm.” Your dad doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Dad,” you say with an exaggerated laugh. “He’s my best friend.”

That seems to settle it. He gives you a small smile, though his eyes flick once more around the room like he's scanning for hidden contraband. “Alright, alright. Have a good night, honey. Make sure you get some rest too.” He nods toward your desk, still a mess of textbooks, loose papers, and at least three pencils that have mysteriously vanished beneath your notes.

He leans down to kiss the top of your head, and you force yourself to stay perfectly still—even though your pulse is still racing. With a soft click, he shuts the door behind him.

You sigh in relief, turning back toward the room—and nearly jump.

Sitting on the edge of your bed is your stuffed animal, wobbling slightly, clearly being puppeteered from below.

In a high-pitched, desperate voice, Steve whines, “Please don’t kick poor Stevie out into the cold, Specs!”

You roll your eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck. Marching over, you snatch the plush from his hand, but can’t hold back a giggle. “Idiot,” you murmur fondly.

You lean over the edge of the bed, plush still in hand, and find him already staring back up at you with those ridiculous, soft brown eyes—doe-eyed and shamelessly begging.

“Fine,” you huff, unable to help the smile tugging at your lips. “You can hang out until Nancy gets home.”

He grins.

“But,” you add, holding up a finger. “I need to study. No funny business, got it?”

Steve raises his hand like he’s taking an oath. “Scout’s honor.”

You squint at him. “You were never a scout.”

“Details.”

You settle back into your chair, flipping to the next page in your textbook. Behind you, Steve climbs onto your bed again—this time, he has the decency to kick off his shoes.

For the next hour or so, the room is filled with the soft scratch of your pencil and the occasional click of the radio as Steve lazily flips through stations. Sometimes it lands on static, sometimes on soft rock, sometimes on the tail end of a commercial. You don't say anything—neither of you do. It’s not awkward. It’s just quiet. Easy.

Eventually, the station stops changing. You glance back and find him passed out, one arm draped across his stomach, mouth slightly open. You shake your head and turn back to your notes, finishing one last problem before giving in to the weight in your own eyes.

You slip into the kitchen, the hum of the fridge the only sound as you fill your cup with water. You take a long sip just as the front door creaks open.

Nancy steps inside, her bag slung over one shoulder, hair slightly windswept. She looks exhausted, but manages a smile when she sees you. “Hey,” she says, voice soft. “What are you still doing up?”

You set your cup down on the counter. “Waiting for you.”

She furrows her brow, curious. “Why?”

“Your boyfriend is here,” you say casually. “Sleeping in my bed.”

Her eyes snap wide open. “Steve is here?”

“Mhm.” You nod, taking another sip. “And I need you to wake him up, please. I want to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

Her sleepiness vanishes in an instant as she drops her bag by the door. “Unbelievable.”

You gesture vaguely toward the stairs. “Tell him he’s got five minutes before I drag him out by the ankles.”

Nancy hurried up the stairs, her steps light but quick. When you step into your room, she’s already kneeling by the bed, brushing a bit of hair from Steve’s forehead and speaking in a soft, almost secret tone. “Steve?”

He stirs with a low groan, blinking up at her through bleary eyes. A sleepy smile spreads across his face. “Hey, beautiful,” he mumbles, voice rough and warm.

They both lean in without hesitation, exchanging a few sleepy kisses. You turn away instinctively, eyes finding a spot on the floor. There's a weird twist in your stomach—tight and uncomfortable. Not jealousy, exactly, but something. Something you don’t want to name.

“Hey, so, um,” you clear your throat awkwardly, “hate to disrupt your little Hallmark moment, but it’s late, and I’d really like to go to bed sometime tonight...”

Nancy laughs softly, straightening up. “Right, sorry, Y/N. We’ll be out of your hair. Come on, Steve.”

Steve sits up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he reaches down to grab his shoes. As he stretches, his shirt lifts just enough to expose a sliver of toned stomach—and that traitorous little line of muscle leading downward that your eyes should not be noticing.

Nope. Absolutely not.

What the hell were you thinking?

You quickly snap your gaze away, but not before your face starts burning up like it’s been dunked in lava. Thankfully, Nancy is too busy helping Steve gather his things to notice the full-body blush consuming you.

You grab your cup off the desk and sip furiously like hydration can drown the thought before it forms completely.

Nancy slipped into the hallway first, peeking around to make sure the coast was clear. Steve lingered behind her, still pulling on his jacket, but before he followed her out, he turned back to you.

“Thanks for letting me hang out here, Specs,” he said, flashing you that easy, lopsided grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You rolled your eyes, dragging out the word, “Sureee,” in the most unbothered tone you could manage.

Without warning, he reached out and ruffled your hair, completely ignoring your half-hearted protests. You scoffed, swatting at his hand, but he was already chuckling and disappearing out into the hallway after Nancy.

Finally—finally—you were alone.

The house had gone still, the only sound the soft whistle of the wind against the windows. You shrugged off your robe, letting it fall onto the chair, then reached up to remove your glasses, placing them neatly on your nightstand.

Crossing the room, you collapsed onto the bed, dragging the blankets up around your shoulders like a cocoon. The mattress was still warm from Steve's body, the weight of his presence lingering heavier than you expected.

You shifted slightly, nestling deeper into the pillow—and froze for a moment when you realized something.

He left his scent behind.

It was faint, but unmistakable—something like cologne mixed with the clean, sun-warmed smell of his jacket. Comforting in a way that made your chest ache.

With a small, helpless sigh, you buried your face into the pillow, breathing in that leftover warmth.

And before you knew it, you drifted off to sleep, the faintest trace of a smile curving your lips.

[zablife]

Becoming Mrs. Shelby (Part 12)

Tommy x wife reader

Summary: After a brief reconciliation with Tommy you become even more intent on dismissing your troublesome housekeeper, but her reaction catches you by surprise.

Part 11, Masterlist

You were awoken in the night by your husband’s desperate shouts coming from one of the guest rooms down the hall. Without a thought for your own well being, you raced through the darkened passage in search of him, nearly tripping on the rug in your haste. When you discovered which room he occupied, you didn’t stop to knock, pushing the heavy door ajar and slipping inside.

Rushing to his bedside, you fumbled to find the lamp switch that would banish the darkness around him. You quickly learned this was a better way to pull Tommy from his nightmares after the frightening experience on your honeymoon. 

As the golden light bathed his body in a warm glow, he slowly began to wake. Looking around him in a haze of disorientation, you called out to subdue him. “It’s alright, Tommy. You’re home. You’re safe,” you repeated the words that would instantly relax his stiff shoulders. 

Eyes drifting upward, a look of pure gratitude washed over him and he reached for your hand. Though clammy from the light sheen of sweat, you tightly laced your fingers with his, relishing the closeness. When he whispered a request for you to lie next to him, you complied, unable to deny him a soothing touch when he needed it most.

If you were honest with yourself, you craved him as well. As soon as you slid beneath the duvet, you melted into his side. He wasted no time draping an arm over you protectively so he could spoon you and you delighted in the comforting weight of it across your waist. His nose nuzzled in the rose scented curls which fell over your shoulder, a sigh of contentment heartening you.

It was easy to love him in moments like these when his walls had crumbled and he allowed you into his fractured heart. In the still quiet of the early morning hours you could believe he chose you as his wife for this indescribable connection only you could provide. Lost in this blissful thought, you'd all but forgotten the discord between you.

However, morning soon disturbed your tranquility, the sounds of a bustling household waking you with a start. Your heart sank as you reached for Tommy across an empty bed, sheets cool to the touch. You pushed yourself up to a sitting position, pulling your knees to your chest forlornly until you noticed a single rose left upon the bedside table.

A thank you? An apology? You couldn't be sure, but the thoughtful gesture seemed promising. Perhaps you would repair the evening's damage after all.

But first, you were determined to address the issue with Mary, convinced there would be no peace within the walls of Arrow House until you did. You rehearsed a speech under your breath as you dressed for the day, resolving to be as firm and authoritative as possible.

However, that was a difficult task when faced with her intimidating presence. "Mary...I've something to say," you swallowed harshly, gathering the courage to relay the news.

"Was there an urgent problem you wished to discuss, ma'am? I'm needed below stairs," she attempted to side step you when you blocked her path.

"Yes, as a matter of fact it is," you countered in a business like tone. "I've come to give you your notice." The words rushed forth like floodwater and you sighed heavily to be done with it.

However, Mary wasn't giving up so easily. “Has Mr. Shelby agreed to this?” she demanded to know.

“The decision is mine and it is final!” you blurted out emphatically, weary of her constant insubordination toward you. "Please pack your personal effects."

Speechless for the first time since your arrival, she seemed not to comprehend what she was hearing. Her wide blue eyes stared back at you with a few slow blinks, eventually whispering, "I see." Her face flickered with a semblance of emotion which surprised you. You had expected anything but this from the stoic woman.

With bowed head she added softly, “you realize the only options for a woman like myself are service or marriage and I’m afraid I’m too old to find either."

The sight of her cowered before you caused pity to well inside your chest, but you remained firm. “We’ll be sure you’re provided for," you assured her.

She looked up at you, eyes glossy with unshed tears as she confided, “But you misunderstand, ma'am. Arrow House isn’t only a job, it’s become my home." Her lips pressed into a thin line as she suppressed any further pleas. Perhaps pride dictated her silence, but you wondered if it might be a renewed willingness to obey.

Suddenly she appeared quite small and frail, powerless to choose her own future and the notion became distasteful to you. You reminded yourself that this was not the way you were brought up to treat others. Regardless of what she'd done, you wouldn't ruin the years she had left. You took a moment to think and determined if she was willing to support you, you might work well together. After all, she did know the house better than anyone.

You decided to test the waters by confessing your own secrets. "This hasn’t yet become a home for me. It all feels so foreign and I'm constantly being reminded of my shortcomings as the lady of the house."

“Allow me to guide you," she offered with a glimmer in her eye. "We'll start with the gala!"

Though hesitant, you accepted her proposal and looked forward to an improved working relationship with one another. Only time would tell if her helpful attitude would remain.

Part 13

[tokidokitokyo]

Starting a Conversation in Japanese

A podcast I really enjoy, ことのは日本語の会話のpodcast, recently posted an episode about starting a conversation in Japanese:

やまむ先生 and きび先生 are two Japanese language teachers who talk about a variety of topics on their podcast, and the back-and-forth between the two women is a good way to attune your ears to natural Japanese language conversation.

This episode in particular - 日本で使て！日本人に話しかけるフレーズ (Use in Japan! Phrases to start a conversation with Japanese people) - resonated with me because, although I've been studying Japanese for more than half my life (^^;;) I still vividly remember when I first arrived in Japan and felt like I could barely form a coherent sentence. Speaking with people was a daunting challenge, and if I hadn't had friendly people around me I think that I would have been awkward and terrified for a lot longer than I was. They also have set phrases which I wish I had someone to tell me before I went to Japan!

Feel free to listen to this episode and let me know if you have any additional tips or suggestions to the ones I list below. This episode is designed for N3-level speakers and above, but here are the things that they hit on that I thought were particularly important:

My Japanese Level is Too Low!

When I first arrived in Japan, and the ticket cashier switched immediately to English because I was struggling, I really felt like I could not do Japanese at all, and I was pretty intimidated. But! I used Japanese regularly, and I was able to eventually have enough confidence to speak to others.

The main point brought up in this podcast is that N5 level (beginning level) is enough to start a conversation!

Using formal です・ます forms is perfectly acceptable and actually this is how many Japanese people would address each other when speaking with someone for the first time or with someone they do not know well. You could start off casually, and count on the 外人パス (foreigner card) to get you through, but it is generally more comfortable for Japanese people if you approach them with formal, respectful language. You don't need to pull out N1-level grammar to introduce yourself (and it might even be more awkward if you do), so just go ahead with the basics.

Adjust your comments to the situation!

If you are in a restaurant, a work setting, a group setting, or a school setting, tailor your opening comment to the situation. In Japanese I have heard this called TPO (time, place, occasion), which means don't ask a coworker if she's been on any dates lately (seems like common sense?) and in front of a group of soccer players (I'm imagining my own days in the soccer circle) don't start drooling over BTS' Jin (at least not until you find the other Jin fans - when you first join the club it's way too early). The podcast gives you some good conversation starters that are harmless and can be used in multiple situations. After all, Japanese is all about reading the air (空気を読む).

Think about what you'll say next before you even speak!

I know, I know, you already spent 3.2 hours coming up with your opening line and another 45 minutes working up the courage to use it... but once you've initiated the conversation, the other person may not step up to carry on the conversation, leaving the onus on you. If you're interested in continuing the conversation, have some follow up comments or questions ready in your back pocket. As in any language, if you don't make the effort to continue the conversation, it might just fizzle out.

It's a conversation, not an interrogation!

Asking about the other person is a sure-fire way to keep them talking, but you also need to be mindful that they may not want an interrogation. As they say in the podcast, try to read their face colour (顔の色) and change your approach as needed. Since you are (most likely) from a different country, you could throw in some fun facts about your country that are related to the topic you picked to keep things going.

Safe things to talk about:

The weather

Your hometown/home country

Their plans for the weekend/upcoming holiday

Their hometown

Food

In Short

People are people, and even if your Japanese is not where you'd like it to be, most people will be willing to speak with you, and I've found that most Japanese people are flattered you are learning their language. Since practicing is the best way to improve, there's no better time than now to start speaking. Just remember TPO (time/place/occasion), don't interrogate the other person, and prepare some follow up comments to keep the conversation flowing as best you can.

Hope this is useful!

[gyumazing]

ENHYPEN

Enhypen as your brother and how they get you to acknowledge their presence/forgive them after an argument.

-

Genre: Fluff (a little bit of angst on Heeseung and Jay's part lol)

Warnings ⚠️: Swearing

-

Yang Jungwon

Idk. I could see him being so annoying at first despite being the one begging for forgiveness. But, I guess that's just him being desperate because aside from the boys, you're his only friend. Also, you guys rarely fight or argue. So, if you refuse to speak to him, he will slowly succumb to insanity.

"It's dinner time." Jungwon knocked on your door. You ignored him. "It's dinner time," he repeated with his stern voice.

After a while, when you still didn't respond to his calls, you heard your doorknob click. You immediately pulled your comforter up and hid yourself like a caterpillar in a cocoon.

"Yah." He forcefully grabbed your comforter out of your body, successfully yeeting it away from you. You looked at him with a blank face. He frowned. "Are you still not talking to me?" You scoffed. He buried his face in his palms and started pacing back and forth.

You rolled your eyes.

And since you didn't really want to talk to him now, "Hey, Alexa. How do you tell someone to get the fuck out of your face?" you said out of spite, grabbing your comforter back from him.

A robotic female voice suddenly chimed in, showing results.

Jungwon groaned.

He sighed in exasperation. "Okay, fine. I messed up."

You rolled your eyes again.

"Hey Alexa, how do you tell someone to—"

"Okay, okay, okay. I was the douchebag for trying to come between you and Riki." His lips formed into a straight line, knees meeting your carpeted floor as he kneeled.

You scoffed.

You raised your brows. You waved your hands in front of him, signaling that he should get up.

"I'm sorry. Please just talk to me again." He begged. You raised your brows. "I will wash the dishes for 2 full weeks..." He sighed in defeat.

Fair enough.

Nishimura Riki

The creaking of your bedroom door in the middle of you binge-watching a scary documentary? Don't worry, that's just Ni-ki attempting to turn your bedroom lights on, fully knowing that you hate it when it's bright in your room. Don't get him wrong though, this is just his way of apologizing; annoying you to the core until you acknowledge his presence out of wrath.

"Asshole." You screamed, hearing his footsteps echo from outside your door.

"Asshole!" He repeated.

You sighed, gluing your eyes back at your laptop screen again. But after a few minutes of peace and solitude, you saw a head pop out of your door frame again, grinning mischievously. And then, everything went pitch black. After a couple of seconds, the lights turned on again. Then, pitch black. Then, turned on again.

Then, he ran away.

If eyes could throw daggers, your twin would lay dead on the floor right now.

"Asshole!" You shouted again.

"Asshole!" He mocked all over again, too.

You stomped your feet and marched towards the light switch to turn it off with a loud thud. You know, you almost convinced yourself that you should be the bigger person and let your brother's shenanigans slide. But, when you heard him giggling unapologetically outside your bedroom door still, your nose suddenly flared in a much intense rage.

"I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE YOU FREAKI—"

But then, you were suddenly choked out of air by a hug.

Riki batted his eyelashes sarcastically. "You've already forgiven me, right?" He lifted you up in the air, making you squirm.

Park Jongseong

Princess treatment. He doesn't really talk to you first until you talk to him first. But, he'll do things that will certainly lift off whatever grudge you have for him.

"Hey mom? Could you pass me the salt please?" You said. But Jay was quick to pass it to you instead. He even slices up your steak quietly for you because he knows that you hate the feeling of cutlery being glided onto a glass plate.

You were about to say "Thank you" but you remembered that you're supposed to be mad at him right now so you start digging in instead.

Some time when you guys were having dessert, a pile of vanilla ice cream was suddenly transferred on top of your already ice cream topped chocolate cake. You saw Jay looking straight ahead at his food, as if he didn't just give out his own ice cream because he knows you like it.

You felt a little bad for ignoring him.

"So, Y/n... Did you like your necklace?" Your mom broke the silence at the dining table, feeling the tension between you and your older brother.

You beamed at your mom and replied with a happy nod. "I was surprised to see it on my bed earlier. I really like it, mom. It's really pretty. Thank you so much." You smiled.

Your mom shook her head.

"Oh honey, that's not from us. That's from Jay," she corrected you.

You coughed awkwardly, looking towards Jay who was minding his own business beside you.

You teared up a little. Now, you feel really, really bad for snapping at him. After all, he just wants the best for you.

You sighed.

"Oppa..." You mumbled, fidgeting with your thumb, biting your lip. Jay turned slowly towards you. You tried to say something but you didn't really know where to start. In the end, you were only able to let out a pathetic "Sorry."

But then, Jay ruffled your hair affectionately.

"No. I'm sorry for saying mean things to you, baby. You're right... Jungwon treats you well and I'm just overreacting." He shook his head, berating himself.

"I'm... It's just that..." You fumbled with your words.

He ruffled your hair again.

"It's okay. Eat up now. Your food is getting cold."

Park Sunghoon

Oh. OH. Don't get me started with this guy. His pride is overflowing, and even though he looks like a kicked puppy whenever you ignore him, he'd somehow find a way to twist the situation, trying to make you beg for his attention instead.

"Oh yeah. YEAH SURE. Y/N's ignoring me so I guess I'm just gonna sell the TXT concert ticket that I bought for her." He'd side-eye you while emphasizing the word 'sell' so you immediately turned your head to his side, feeling betrayed.

You're not sure if he's joking or what because you never knew he bought you concert tickets in the first place.

You rolled your eyes mindlessly though.

Whatever.

"Oh. Okay. I guess I'll go to Japan with Sunoo instead." Sunghoon sing-songed when he saw you entering your guys' house through the main door, as if he wasn't quietly sulking in the living room earlier, waiting for you to come back home.

You scoffed now. You guys already planned on spending summer in Japan together, and it was supposed to be your first out-of-the-country trip without your parents.

Obviously, you know that this is just him trying to get your attention... But, fully knowing your brother's pettiness level, you wouldn't be surprised if he actually went on with his threat.

So, you sighed, facing his way.

"You're the worst." You muttered, storming out of the house, leaving a dumbfounded Sunghoon on his own.

In the end, Sunghoon finally came to his senses and apologized properly to you. Of course, you ended up forgiving him.

Sim Jaeyun

Unlike the other members, he'll say sorry immediately and acknowledge his faults rather than doing unnecessary shenanigans just to keep his pride intact.

"2 minutes?" Jake asks, making you nod.

"Yup, wait for two minutes and try again." Your voice sounded so mechanical as you glanced at your wristwatch, still beyond pissed at your brother for ruining your supposed date night with Riki. As per his words, you guys are way too young to date and to be left alone together.

You get that he's very protective and he means well... but he treats you like a freaking kid most of the time, and it's actually annoying you to the core.

"2 minutes? Oh, okay." Jake sighs, stretching his arms a little then adjusts his cap.

You raised your brows at him.

"Dude... What are you doing?" You looked at him confusedly.

"Hmmm?" Jake replied in the same confused manner as you are, hitting you with his puppy eyes as he stood outside your room awkwardly.

You pointed at his hands.

Jake looked at his hand and immediately hid it behind his back, chuckling embarrassedly.

"Oh... I was counting to... you know... until 2 minutes is over... so I could apologize again..."

You sighed, not long after, letting out a chuckle.

"You're such a loser sometimes, you know?"

"So... does this mean you forgive me or..?" Jake asks, fiddling with his nails.

You shook your head.

"No. Not yet. Until you explain everything to Ni-ki and clarify that I didn't purposely ditch our date, you're dead to me, Jake." You jokingly threw a punch.

Lee Heeseung

Offers the most proper apology out of them all. Poor Heeseung, he'd just feel so guilty about it that you could almost see the guilt flooding from his eyes.

"Kuya?" You gasped surprisedly when you heard a knock on your door, only to be greeted by an apologetic looking Heeseung, carrying at least 3 plastic bags with his arms. "It's 2 AM... I thought you were supposed to stay at your dorm right now?" Your voice was quiet and stoic as you were still wary about the recent argument you just had with him over the phone when you told him about your plans of spending summer with your guys' toxic relatives.

Heeseung cared for you so much. Growing up in a highly dysfunctional family and having to care for you since you were in diapers, despite him being unable to fend for himself properly yet, he's practically your parent at this point. And when he finally debuted as an idol and earned enough money, he immediately fetched you back from your hometown and enrolled you in a prestigious school in Seoul to keep you away from the toxicity and to have you closer by his side too.

Heeseung developed a sense of protectiveness towards you, which you understand well. He despises the fact that you guys were getting pushed over by your so-called 'family', and hearing you mutter from your own mouth that you're gonna spend your summer with them just made him go batshit crazy... because, why would you willingly step back into the den you guys tried so hard to break free from? He didn't understand.

What he didn't understand too is that you're willing to reconnect. After all, they're family. That's why you got into an argument. An argument so bad that he raised his voice at you for the first time in God knows how long, and now he's here, in front of your dorm room looking so ashamed and sorry when he's supposed to be at his company right now.

"Get in, kuya." You told him when you realized that you guys were awkwardly standing in the middle of your dormitory's hallway. "The guards let you in? It's 2 AM... Did you drive here all alone?" You asked worriedly.

Heeseung plopped down on your couch and tapped the space beside him.

He looked at you sadly... You looked at him worriedly.

"You know how much I care for you, right?" He asks.

You nodded.

"Okay. That's good. I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier... You can spend the summer with them if you really want to. I just got really worried." He assured, explaining. You looked at him with a melancholic smile. Now you feel bad for being mad at him earlier. He just wants the best for you. "I—... I'm... I'm real—"

You cut Heeseung off with a hug.

"No. I'm sorry, kuya." You sobbed.

Kim Sunoo

Would ignore you too but only for 2 days. Istg. He'd be knocking on your door holding two tubs of ice cream without saying anything. Weirdly enough, despite multiple bickerings and misunderstandings between you growing up, neither of you says sorry to each other. Somehow you guys just make up after a few days. And this time, it was no different.

"Hey..." Sunoo greets coolly, placing two tubs of ice cream on the counter table.

You were about to reply to his greeting, but you remembered, right, you're mad at him because he was so against your relationship with Sunghoon.

"I brought ice cream..." Sunoo's voice was cautiously casual as he plunked down two tubs of ice cream on the counter.

You eyed him warily, trying to stay mad. But two tubs of ice cream were hard to resist. "Uh-huh," you replied noncommittally, grabbing a spoon.

The two of you sat there, each digging into your respective tubs with exaggerated seriousness. It was almost comical how you avoided eye contact, each pretending the other didn't exist.

After a few spoonfuls (okay, maybe more like two), you couldn't help it. "You know, you're ridiculous," you blurted out, ice cream still in your mouth.

Sunoo looked up, a hint of sassines in his eyes. "Says the one dating Sunghoon."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a snort. "Yeah, well, he's better than you at sharing ice cream."

Sunoo scoffed. "As if! I brought two tubs, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but who gets the last bite?" you challenged, trying not to laugh.

He grinned, a genuine one this time. "I guess we'll have to battle it out."

And just like that, the tension melted away faster than your ice cream. You started playfully arguing about who got to lick the tub clean, throwing spoonfuls at each other and making a mess of the kitchen. By the end of it, there were more ice cream splatters on both of you than in the tubs.

"Alright, truce," Sunoo declared, wiping his face with a paper towel and trying to look serious again.

"Truce," you agreed.

___

A/N: Watch me post all of my drafts in one sitting 🫰🏻 jkjk. I'm about to go to uni next month as a freshman so I'm utilizing my free time before school starts and shits on me again. ✌🏻 Anyways, I'm so excited for Romance: Untold Acdhshdhjskkkkkkkkkk. 😭🫡