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hannieween · 7 months ago

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spotlight | lights out series

In the aftermath of that night when everything changed, Joshua has to pick up the pieces of his own doing.

✮ pairings: joshua hong x female reader x yoon jeonghan ✮ genre: angst, fluff, smut (18+) ✮ aus: rock singer joshua, boyfriend joshua, theatre director jeonghan, best friend jeonghan ✮ word count: 16.9k

→ season one – navi post – read more

› smut warnings under the cut

✮ warnings: descriptions of food, food and alcohol consumption, smut with plot, joshua is toxic and kind of manipulative, multiple sex scenes, sub joshua, dom reader, oral sex (m), unprotected sex, body worshipping, creampies, morning sex, slight exhibitionism, a bit of cuddle fucking, cowgirl, bondage, sensory deprivation, overstimming, edging. pet names: bunny, baby, beautiful (hers) baby, baby boy, handsome (joshua's)

✮ author's note: this story takes up after the city lights series. i highly recommend you check that fic out before diving into this one if you haven't already... or you might be a little bit confused.

✮ disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

part i

You clawed at the bedsheets wrapping your body.

Sweat covered your neck as your fingers clenched around the soft fabric of the creamy white bed sheets you were writhing under. You sank the side of your face on the pillow below you, muffling out a short moan.

The side of your body was comfortably lying on your mattress, softly creaking as Joshua moved behind you under the bed sheets, keeping a steady pace on the push and pull he had commenced not two minutes ago.

Your boyfriend was breathing hard on the crook of your neck, moaning softly every time he pushed inside your walls, the front of his body cuddling your back, keeping one of his large hands flat on your tummy to keep you in place for him to fuck you slowly.

One of the things Joshua discovered about himself is that he loved morning sex. In his past relationships, he didn't think too much about it. Granted, he was never big on vanilla sex.

But something about waking up next to you, wholly naked under the bed sheets, your face being the first thing he sees, your soft humming the first thing he hears.

The first few times he woke up next to you as soon as he moved into your apartment, right after he finished touring and recording an album, you were the first one to wake up. And those times you usually left the bed before he woke up, only for him to catch up with you making breakfast.

But now that he had grown familiar with your routine and you with his, he was the one who was waking up before you did.

And Joshua Hong swore he could fall in love twice over.

Somehow he learned to wake up silently, so he wouldn't wake you up in the process, knowing how much of a light-sleeper you were.

Sometimes he would just lie there with his eyes closed, either cuddling you or just lying by your side.

Something would brighten up inside him every time you would unconsciously search for him, either turning over the bedsheets to cuddle him up, lacing your leg with his. Or whenever you were already snuggling him, you would just bump the tip of your nose against him.

It was as if, in your dreams, you would reach out to him, to make him hold you as if you were in your own world, resting peacefully.

But this morning he was just so bundled up in your warmth and in your love that he just couldn't resist himself.

Joshua had to wake you up with kisses on your shoulder to let you know of his intentions, and to his surprise, you immediately caught on, arching your back for him to have easy access to your warm walls.

So there he was, madly in love, drunk on you, pushing your body as he breathed hard on the curve of your neck, getting glimpses of you holding onto the bed sheets every time he blinked dazedly.

"Baby," Joshua half moaned, half sighed as he closed his eyes. "I love you."

The sound those words elicited from you, made him smile, turning his head to litter kisses on your cheek, and down your neck.

"I love you, Josh," you replied, sounding as if trapped in a trance, so dreamy, breathily moaning out his name.

"Yeah?" he sighed. "Are you gonna come with me?" he asked, hearing your increasingly louder moans.

"No, no, not yet," you replied, your fist leaving a bundle of sheets, diving under the bed sheets to meet his hip, holding onto him. "Please, it feels so good.."

"Okay, okay," he whispered hurriedly. "Fuck," he gasped softly, slipping out of your sopping walls by pulling his hips backward.

"Joshua!" you gasped, turning your head to see him, squeezing his eyelids shut in focus.

"Sorry baby," he sighed with a smile, opening one eye first to see your obfuscated face.

"It's okay," you smiled sweetly when you understood that he was close to his climax.

"Turn over for me," he rasped, nodding his head to the pillows.

Joshua experienced something unusual to him, like a lightning bolt piercing his chest when you smiled at him giddily before turning face down on the pillows, knowing what he wanted to do.

The love he felt for you was so intense it could literally cause him pain.

But he got to his knees on the bed, not letting you wait for him any longer, he moved on top of you, each of his knees at the sides of your hips as you instinctively lifted your ass up for him, uncovering your wet pussy for him.

Joshua smiled when something in his mind reminisced on the days you were getting a feel of each other, just two total strangers giving themselves into carnal desire.

And now, he couldn't imagine a life without you.

He brought down a hand on one of your buttcheeks, not hard, but just about enough to get a squeal out of you, followed by a sweet laugh from your part that sent a blissful shudder through his body.

You looked over your shoulder, propping your weight on your elbows to watch him with an excited glint in your eyes. Without more pause, he just grabbed his wet cock, driving it inside you in one go.

It was nearly electric, the feeling of being inside your engulfing warmth, the fluttering, the wetness, you, you, you.

You dropped your face flush into the pillows to muffle a raw cry of pleasure. This position made it so that his cock teased a particular sweet spot in your walls that instantly had you wailing like a mad woman.

"Joshua..." you sighed against the pillows.

His head lolled back slightly, giving himself into the blissful pleasure and desperation to feel you whole, to make you feel good, to hear your voice call out his name in raw cries.

So he just started moving his hips back and forth, pumping his cock inside your warm walls, moaning at just how wet you were.

"Joshua, Joshua..." you continued as he fucked you deeper, the back and forth of his hips made the bed frame creak and budge against the wall of the bedroom, quite evidently telling the new neighbors that it was another one of those mornings.

"I know, baby," he sighed back, grabbing you by the hips to keep your ass up and cunt angled for him, watching his front hit your plump cheeks, the recoil, the dents his fingers were creating as his hands held you steady for him to fuck.

"Oh, god," you rasped loudly against the pillow, your hands balling into fists on the pillowcase. "Oh god, Joshua..."

"Are you close, bunny?" he called in a gasp, groaning in frustration as you shook your head on the pillow.

"Harder," you sighed, lifting your head to cast a look over your shoulder, your eyebrows knitting in a plea as you added. "Please, fuck me harder, Josh."

"We'll get another noise complaint," he grinned, reading the dilemma that set in your furrowed brow.

Joshua couldn't care less about the new neighbors. As soon as they moved in two weeks ago, he knew they would be a problem. When you were notified about the noise complaint, Joshua just knew it was them.

"Hmn?" he changed the pace of the back and forth of his hips on you, fucking you with shallow thrusts. It was not as deep as you preferred, but still good.

You groaned in frustration and buried your face on the pillow again.

"Baby, give me an answer," he laughed heartily. He knew he could continue fucking you slowly just to tease you.

But he was also aching to come.

"Do it," you breathed, nodding with your head before casting another look. "Please, baby, I'm gonna be quick, just, please, I want it harder..."

Joshua smiled at your resolve before commencing to plow on you, retreating his hips and thrusting forward with a hard and fast pace, his front slapping against your ass, causing the recoil to be more prominent, making him moan at the sight.

But your moans, oh, they were the cause for the noise complaints, he was sure. It wasn't the bed frame hammering against the wall, or the loud creaking of the mattress, or even his own moans.

You were wailing now, crying out his name in bliss and pleasure pleading him to never stop, to keep going, to go harder.

And he was just too complacent to not let you have what you want.

"I'm coming, Josh, c-coming!" you cried out, gripping the pillowcase, turning your head so he could see your pretty cum face of your eyebrows knitting, your mouth falling open.

"Fuck," he sighed, his fingers digging into your skin to focus in not changing his pace for his own pleasure, he kept plowing on you as you came undone on his cock, your whiny moans flooding the room paired with the banging on the wall from the other side.

"Josh..." you sighed as you slumped down on the pillow.

"I'm there, oh fuck, baby..." he moaned, ignoring the urgent thumping on the wall. He threw back his head, a long, moany exhale coming out of him as he spilled himself inside you finally, his hands grabbing your hips to fuck you into him languidly until he spilled the last drop of his cum in you.

You were breathing out sweet moans as he stopped thrusting in and out of you slowly and sloppily, hearing the banging on the wall with a sly grin on his face, being accentuated when you groan in utter embarrassment against the pillow.

Joshua sighed in complete joy and adoration when you sneaked a look over your arm, laughing in excitement and shame, partly enjoying the loud exhibition of your love at very early hours in the morning.

"Good morning, baby," he sighed, a small groan spilling along.

"Morning, Josh," you replied cutely.

"Hungry?" he breathed with a lazy grin on his face.

"Umn, yeah," you replied aloofly, sinking into your pillow again to enjoy the gentle aftershocks of your orgasm.

He also needed a minute to catch his breath and for his brain to come down to reality and gather up that the neighbors might take an issue with them again.

But he couldn't care less.

You, on the other hand, were mortified.

"Should we... go talk to them?" you asked with a tiny voice, lying motionless below his body.

"And tell them what?" Joshua sighed a smile, running his hands from your lower back upwards, caressing your skin lovingly.

"That we're sorry!" you gasped, but there was a small giggle that quivered in your tone.

"Sorry about what?!" Joshua protested with a faux scandalized tone. "Sorry that we have a good sex life and they don't?"

"Maybe not that, but, sorry that we're loud might work," you retorted.

"I wasn't loud, you were," Joshua teased.

"Josh!" you sent him a glare. "We both were."

"Fine, fine," Joshua conceded with a breathy chuckle. "I could get soundproof padding for the walls and something for the bed frame so it doesn't bang on the wall," he offered, taking your worry seriously.

"Isn't that going overboard?" you inquired with honest curiosity.

"Yes... but also no," he pondered. "I think it would work, and stop the complaints."

"Mmff," you sighed and turned your face flush against the pillows again.

"Come on, baby," he muttered as he pulled his hips back, thus slipping out of your wet walls.

"Just give me a minute," you mumbled on the pillows.

"I'll be waiting for you in the shower," he slapped your ass teasingly one more time and laughed when your squeal was muffled in the pillow.

Joshua had no issue settling in your apartment. When he got back from touring and from all of the appointments he had outstate, you had already made space for him. And he had spent so many nights there that it already felt like home.

But he was convinced that the homely feeling came from your company.

He was just stepping below the shower head when he felt your arms wrapping around his waist, hugging him from behind. You pressed your cheek on his back.

"Hi baby," he sighed, not caring that it was about two minutes ago that he had said just that.

"Is it my turn to make breakfast?" you muttered, pressing small kisses on his back, between his shoulder blades before reaching out with one arm to get the bottle of shampoo.

"Would you like to get breakfast somewhere?" he asked you as he finished rinsing out the shampoo from his golden brown hair. "We could go to that place you like with the banana pancakes..."

"I mean you gotta let me make breakfast one day," you giggled sweetly as you busied your hands on your hair, your fingers massaging shampoo into your scalp made Joshua turn and pay attention to you.

He had been doing that lately. He paid attention to things you do for yourself, no matter how simple or how meaningful they were. He knew that you had changed the color of the polish in your nails, you trimmed your hair and added some new touches here and there.

But also, you also have gotten into some new habits. Such as trying to fix your sleep, you go to the gym more frequently, not as an on and off thing anymore, you go out with your friends more, and the biggest thing he has noticed, is that you did all of this to hide the sadness you actually felt.

It had been weeks since you last talked with Jeonghan. An event that you weren't to talk about with Joshua yet, but he could see that whatever happened, left you pretty bad.

Joshua knew already that he needed to give you time. And he promised you he would be patient if that was what you needed. He didn't need to know what had happened that time you talked, in truth, he ached to hold you, to make you happy again by whatever means necessary.

"We could also go to the book shop afterwards," Joshua offered with a hollow tone, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible but he knew that you were avoiding going out today.

"Okay, that's how I know you're up to something, Mr. Hong," you smiled as you tilted your head to raise your hair.

"I just want to pamper you, Ms. Hong," he joked, but his tone dropped as he uttered those last two words. "Take you on as many dates as possible."

"Mmn, then you got a date, mister," you replied with a playful grin, sliding your arms on his shoulders and locking your wrists behind his neck. "But you gotta let me make breakfast someday, you know. I'm not a bad cook."

Joshua chuckled, but your lips muffled his laugh as he tried to get back at you. "I know, baby. Just let me take you out today."

"Maybe you're just getting away with doing the dishes," you said with a lower and velvety tone.

He was struck with so much adoration for you when he noticed that you were flirting with him. The corners of your eyes were smiling, and the glint in your eye told him that you were feeling the same too.

"You got me," he whispered, dipping his head to meet your lips.

"Mmn, you little deviant," you muttered sultrily, smiling in his lips.

He felt a hand cup his chin as your tongue touched his lower lip. "Look who's talking," he replied when your other hand roamed all over his body, feeling his lean chest first, sliding down to feel the toned muscle of his abdomen.

"I learned from the best," you replied, circling your hands to his back.

Joshua laughed breathily into your mouth.

You clapped your hands giddily as the plate was set in front of you. There sat a fluffy banana pancake, decorated with berries and honey.

Joshua sat just across your seat on the small round table, he was pretending to type something but in reality he was snapping a photo of you looking at your meal.

The first bite made you sway your body in tiny motions, like a little dance with your fists bundled up at your sides as you chewed on your food merrily.

And he watched you in complete delight. Setting his phone down on the table to take a bite from his own plate. "Good?" he muttered as you took another generous bite with near maddening joy.

Food made you happy, in the month he had been living with you he had learned more and more about your favorite foods and general eating habits. So he knew that sugary breakfasts were accompanied with coffee.

You set your mug and licked your lips. "Amazing," you sighed, resuming to eat more banana pancakes.

"Mm," he nodded with a small pleased smile on his face. "Oh, my mom asked about you," he suddenly remembered.

You almost choked on your mouthful. "Huh?!" you uttered as your round cheeks from the food gave you a comical expression. "W-what? Why? When?"

"I think it was... yesterday actually," he mentioned, thoroughly enjoying your reaction. "I told her we could meet one day for dinner or lunch soon."

You swallowed your bite with a bewildered look in your eyes. "Oh, of course why not," you nodded. "I could cook something, I can make a mean lasagna."

A twist in his stomach in pure fondness made him pause when you took on a proud look for yourself. "Oh yeah?" he teased: "Why haven't I tried your lasagna?"

"Because," you elongated the word. "You, mister, keep me out of the kitchen nearly everyday. You don't let me cook for you."

"That's not true," he retorted with a smirk. "It's not everyday."

"I'm not complaining though," you muttered as you pointed at him with your fork.

"I know you aren't," he chuckled.

"Mmm," you hummed as you took another sip of coffee. "Tell mom she's invited to dinner at our place next friday."

"Will do," he smiled, from both your assertiveness and the cuteness you exhibited suddenly.

"Thanks for breakfast, Josh," you muttered, linking your arm with his, your hand grabbing on his bicep comfortably as you both walked on the sidewalk.

"Don't mention it, beautiful," he smiled at you.

Your eyes were marveling at the sight of the cherry blossoms flanking the street you both walked. The grip of your hand on his bicep shifted and tightened, directing a smile at him as you teased him a bit, using the bulge of his arm as a stress ball.

"You're bulkier," you grinned.

"You've mentioned it," he replied in kind.

"I like it," you said and tilted your head to the side so your temple touched his shoulder briefly.

"All for you, baby."

The giggle that spilled from you echoed in his mind. Joshua slipped into what he felt was something that felt like a daze as you aloofly started to hum a tune that you were improvising on the spot. You did that, he noticed, you hummed a beautiful tune happily for two or three seconds and started it again.

Joshua grabbed your hand from his bicep and laced his fingers with yours to then kiss your knuckles one by one, slowly as you both walked down the street.

The sunlight slipped through the branches of the cherry blossom trees, shining in against your beautiful hair, making your cheeks grow hot and when you looked back at him, you smiled, noticing that he was lost in thought.

"Do you want to make a stop at the book shop?" he nodded his head to the small bookshop on the corner of the street.

You pondered for a second, but Joshua knew what your answer would be from the way you were pouting cutely.

"Maybe an hour," you decided.

Joshua pushed the door open for you. "That's what you said last time."

"But last time they had new titles," you countered and giggled shamefully. "Okay, maybe two hours."

"Take as long as you need, baby," he muttered, letting go of your grasp as you were swiftly taken away by the new shiny covers on display.

Joshua gravitated towards you in the maze of shelves, acting as if he were just as interested in the books surrounding you. But he was more raptured by you, by the wonder in your eyes as you picked up book by book to read the covers, to open them up carefully and peer inside.

He just stuck around you, picking up books to just settle them back to their place without even so much as reading one word. You skirted around the shelves, while he just wavered in the distance.

That was until his eyes caught sight of your pen name on a book. Rows of a glossy cover under a sign that said best seller sat the book that was partly responsible for him being there.

Almost as if the book had a magnetic pull on him, he brought one copy from the shelf. Joshua only recognized the book by the title and obviously your pen name, but he realized that he hadn't really paid attention to the work on the illustrated cover.

He remembers seeing it at some point, but almost beat himself up for not paying more attention to it. The cover was pretty, totally eye-catching, but he knew the contents were much, much more impressive.

Joshua read the final manuscript, he also had to read all of your annotations. But it was the first time in a month after the release that he actually held a copy of your book.

He felt dumb for a second. How didn't he get a copy before?

You were submerged in a different book, rows of shelves and far away from him, swaying your body gently to the soft music playing on the speakers overhead.

The first page of your book started with a dedication. Joshua first saw his name written in it, and his stomach dropped.

To Joshua, my favorite plot twist, my endless inspiration. I love you.

Cursing to himself, he slowly closed his eyes. There was no excuse for missing something like this. Not work, not whatever it was that bothered him. This was important to you, your greatest achievement so far, and you dedicated it to him.

And he is just finding it out. A month later.

He thought of something to say to you, an apology, anything.

But at that moment, his phone buzzed in the pocket of his jacket. Pulling it out he saw flashes of a series of notifications from his new management team.

With a resigned sigh, he opened the messages to read that Midnight Haze had secured a bunch of dates for upcoming concerts the weekend after their first self titled album release.

It was huge for him, but it was instantly overshadowed by the thought of leaving you behind again for several weeks at a time. He had been enjoying his quiet life with you so far, and it amazed him how much it bothered him that his career success was not as important to him anymore.

The problem was not that he would leave you alone. Joshua still had trouble with the thought of you hiding away in your study for weeks, being lonely while he goes away and lives the life of a rockstar.

But what bothered him the most was that he was about to leave you when you were going through something that he knew was taking away your sleep, something that had broken your heart.

Joshua knew that Jeonghan had stopped talking to you some weeks ago. After the night of the threesome, and he very evidently showed how he felt about you, you tried to reach him, to talk about it. But he just said he needed time.

Time went by, and you got sadder. Sometimes he heard you in the middle of the night, crying alone. He would ask you about it but you just said you were alright, you said you also needed time. So Joshua gave you that.

But Joshua could not shake the feeling that he was responsible for it all. Deep down he knew that this mess was caused by everyone involved. Still, he was the one that suggested Jeonghan to get closer to you, to be friends. He was the one that left you for weeks and eventually stopped talking as frequently.

What will happen now when he leaves? He knew he would only carry that guilt with him.

Sometimes he missed when he was just a singer in an independent band that had some shows at local bars every now and then. If that were still the case, he would not have to leave you behind.

"Would you like an autograph, sir?" your cute voice snapped him out of his mental turmoil.

Lifting his head up, he found you standing in front of him, unbeknownst to the messages showing on his phone screen sitting on the palm of his hand. You were looking at the copy of your book in his other hand.

"Allow me to buy the copy first, miss," he replied.

"Oh, no don't do that," you muttered, immediately dropping your act. "I was just joking, you don't have to buy it."

"Why don't you like to have copies of your books at home?" he inquired with genuine curiosity.

You shrugged slowly, fingers tracing shapeless doodles over the spine of a book you picked up. "I like to keep my space separate from my work," you smiled shamefully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I know it's silly, but I like to pretend that the writer and I are different people."

Joshua tilted his head to one side. "That is a bit more confusing," he chuckled softly.

"Well, that's because you're famous, you like the public acclamation, the fame," you disputed, snatching the book from his hand and placing it back to where he initially found it. "And I don't."

"I'm not famous," he immediately battled, with a shy smile painting his ears red. "And I don't like fame either."

"Yeah right," you quipped with a grin. "I'd beg to differ."

He stretched an arm and grabbed the copy of your book again. "I'm taking this if you don't mind," he said with a faux serious expression. "And I'm getting that autograph."

"What, no, Josh," you pronounced his name with a giggle. "Don't buy it, we have the manuscript at home."

"You can't sign the manuscript," he rolled his eyes and laughed when you tried to grab the book from him but he just kept it in the air and out of your reach.

"What do you want a signed copy for?" you sent him a glare that only made him laugh harder.

"This one has a pretty cover," he shrugged and turned away from you and started walking to the counter to pay.

"Josh!" you gasped and fell into step behind him.

"I expect my autograph," he said, pulling out his phone to pay.

The cashier sent you a look and then to Joshua, who just dismissively smiled, his nose wrinkling a bit in the process. He could see from the corner of his eye how you just sighed in resignation.

"Bunny," Joshua said as he followed you out of the book shop.

"Yes?" you lifted your eyes to lock with his.

"I... thank you for the book dedication," he muttered, grabbing your hand to lace your fingers with his. "I really appreciate it, baby."

"You don't have to thank me for that, Josh," you giggled sweetly. "That's me literally saying thanks for being there, for helping me."

Joshua paid attention to the way you emphasized that word, paired with the shy smile on your face as your gaze dropped to the ground. What you meant by helping, though, was having sex.

"Do you need help with book two?" he grinned.

"Oh my god, Josh," you muttered, teary eyed in embarrassment.

"I can totally help," he teased some more. "Everyday, if you let me. Anything you want to try baby, I'm game."

"You are helping, Josh," you turned to look over your shoulder and deciding no one was listening to your conversation you added: "You are a very diligent source of inspiration."

"You think, baby?" he pressed, holding the door to the building open for you.

You nodded eagerly in affirmation to his question.

"I take my job seriously," he quipped with a laugh. "Anything to help."

After the day-long date, you came back home feeling exhausted, but ready to get some hours of work before heading to bed. Committed was the relationship you had to your writing, a thing you tried to do at least an hour a day.

So Joshua decided to spend the remainder of the day sitting in the living room area. Guitar sitting in his lap, phone ready to record, he tried to emulate the tune he heard you hum, the tune he replayed the whole evening in his head.

Before he knew it, he had recorded a good chunk of melody. He replayed it once, deciding it was good material he sent it right over to Jihoon, presenting it as something they can work on for a ballad.

Content with his day's productivity, he decided to call it a day, being that it was already nightfall and he felt rightfully sleepy.

So he made his way to the place he knew he would find you, happily buried in work. Pushing the door open he found you working on your desk, eyes glued to one of your monitors, typing fast on the keyboard.

He saw that you were wearing your headphones so he went unnoticed completely. Suppressing a small smile, he walked closer to you, being careful as to not startle you as he had done several times in the past.

"Baby," he whispered as he placed his hands on your shoulders, leaning down to press a kiss on your cheek once you slid a hand on top of his.

"Mmn?" you removed your headphones. "What's that?"

"I'm heading to bed," he whispered before pressing another kiss on your cheek. "Wait for you there?"

"Yeah, sure," you turned your head to plant a kiss on his lips. "I'll be there in five."

"If you take longer, I'll come for you," he said, eliciting a chuckle from you.

"That sounds fun," you whispered, pressing your lips against his smirk.

He kissed you one more time before backing away from you and getting ready for bed. His routine was short, consisting of rinsing his face, brushing his teeth and undressing himself.

When he was already lying in the bed, he heard you come in exactly five minutes later, which made Joshua turn his head to look at you curiously.

Noticing that he was still awake and with his gaze trained on you, you began to undress, reaching out for your sleeping clothes in the drawer. You had taken to using one of his t-shirts, which was a few sizes too big for you.

Turning off the bedside lamp, you climbed up the high bed, crawling to the space you had assigned for yourself, but as you slipped beneath the sheets, you immediately attached to his side.

Joshua chuckled softly, wrapping one arm around you as you snuggled to him, fitting your face on the curve of his neck.

"You didn't take long," he pointed, thinking of the times you worked past midnight.

"I'll continue tomorrow," you sighed a yawn. "I want to cuddle with you, is that okay?"

"Of course, baby," he whispered, bringing his other arm to hug you snuggly. "Always."

"Thank you for today, Josh," you muttered sweetly, your hand had started to rub shapeless figures on his chest. "I enjoyed every moment of it."

"You don't have to thank me, bunny," he replied sleepily. "I want to give you more days like this. For the rest of your life if you let me."

That made you giggle in joy. "Be ready to hear me thank you every single day, then."

"Why?"

"Because you make me happy," you muttered, your voice had turned into a tiny coo.

"You make me happy too, baby," he turned his head on the pillow to look at you. "That's the point, right?"

"Mmn, yeah but I want to say thanks anyway," you laughed, realizing how stupid the argument was.

But Joshua smiled, pressing a kiss on your forehead. "I love you," he muttered, caressing your arm with his hand. "I just want to make you happy."

"I love you too," you whispered, sighing a hum. "Let's make each other happy, then."

Joshua was unsure as to how he fell asleep, or how long after he drifted into a peaceful dream. He woke up to distant noises of water boiling, a sizzling sound and then the clinking of metal against ceramic glass.

The bed was cold on your side, when he outstretched his arm he found it empty. Instantly, he knew it was one of those restless nights. Even if you were trying to fix your sleeping habits, you still suffered some insomniac nights.

He waited for some minutes, and then got out of bed, fishing out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that he had discarded earlier and left on top of the armchair in the room and put them on.

You were sitting on the couch by the window. He noticed that you had drawn the blinds to get the lighting from the restless city outside.

You didn't notice him right away, so he also could tell that you were crying as your teary eyes panned to the hall and found him.

His heart dropped. "You're okay, bunny?" he asked wearily.

Sitting down on the couch beside you, he kept some distance from you, giving you space in case that was you needed.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you smiled, pressing your lips together.

He nodded slowly, averting his gaze to his lap. "Do you want to talk about it?" he offered, holding in his breath.

This would probably be the time, he thought. He wished you would finally air out your troubles with him. It was the third time he had woken up to your cries, he silently counted. And he suspected that you were hiding from him to let your feelings out, suspected you weren't sharing your feelings with him to avoid more conflict.

"I'm just thinking, Josh," you said with a dismissive tone. "Everything's okay."

You took three big gulps from the tea that you drink to help you sleep. Grimacing at the taste you put it back to the coffee table and shifted on the couch closer to Joshua until your bodies touched.

"What do you think about?" he asked gently, the weariness coating his tone was still there.

A long sigh made your chest rise and fall, more tears kept rolling down your cheeks and you shook your head, signaling your reluctance to talk about it.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?"

"No, I..." you choked on your words and before he could move, you took his hand. "I'm just being a bit emotional. That's it."

"You can trust me," he whispered, raising his eyes to find your grief stricken face.

"I know," you replied in kind. "I know, Josh."

You picked up your tears with the pad of your thumb, sniffing quietly as you seemed to calm yourself down. But you wouldn't make eye contact with him, your hand held his tightly, but it seemed that you weren't opening up just yet.

"Baby..." he whispered, following your eyes. "I want you to talk to me. I'm waiting for you night and day to open up but you just won't. Do you think that I don't know what you've been going through?"

Your eyebrows pinched together in confusion but they quickly went lax, coming to a realization that he knew. All along he silently bore witness to your pain and your mourning to your friendship with Jeonghan.

"I've heard you cry before too," he confessed, a painful jab making him shudder. "I know you told me to give you space but you don't have to. I think that you will feel better when you talk to Jeonghan and whatever you decide to do... I'm ready."

"What are you saying?" you croaked, sniffing loudly and bringing up a hand to wipe your tears.

"I'm... saying that if you–," a strangled sound interrupted him, and he had to pause to gather his thoughts, drawing a big gulp of air as he sighed the next words: "Whatever you need to do when you talk to him, I'm ready... to take it."

"What?!" you gasped with a bewilderment that almost made you stop your tears. "You're not taking anything, Joshua. Who do you think I am?"

"I'm just saying, whatever you feel like you have to do, I'll understand…. I just want you to be happy again," his eyes inevitably rolling upward, trying to resist the angry tears stinging his eyes.

"Have you lost your mind, Joshua?" you asked, watching him nearly vibrate in what you assume was a very undesirable remorse.

"I think so, yes," he said slowly, now looking at you. "It kills me to wake up and hear you crying in the middle of the night. I hate that you pretend to be alright instead of trusting me with what's hurting you."

"What hurts me hurts you," you said in a weak tone, crossing your arms over your chest in what he recognized as a mechanism to hold yourself together.

"Is that why you won't open up to me? Because you don't want to hurt me?"

You slowly nodded with your head, biting your lip to make it stop quivering, though it was futile.

"I just want you to trust me," Joshua whispered, and your eyes widened when his tone faltered. "It's the only thing I care about."

"Joshua, I..." you started, but you were at a loss of words.

"We can't keep doing this to each other," he whispered, shuddering under the stress of finally being vulnerable with you. "I want to help you but you need to let me in."

"I don't want this to affect us," you replied with an air of surrender, it was quite evident that it was too late for that.

At that, he knew he had nothing to say. He had caused all this, no matter how much he wanted you to open up, he was being a hypocrite. His attempt to make you trust him with this fell completely disingenuous since he was also keeping things from you.

He shifted on his seat, opening his arms to you. "Come here," he whispered and you promptly crawled wight into his embrace, crying freely on his shoulder. "I just don't want you to go through this on your own, baby," he said shakily, swallowing his own guilt-ridden tears. "But if it's what you want I get it. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," you replied in a tiny voice.

"No, don't be," he muttered. "I know this is hard for you... this is hard for me too, but it shouldn't have to be, baby. We are together to lift each other up, aren't we? No matter what tries to bring us down."

Joshua could feel your fingers clinging onto his shoulders, your face pressed flush against his chest as you sobbed and cried hard, harder than he had heard you ever.

"All I'm trying to say is... trust that I won't walk away from you. Not because of this, not ever," Joshua gulped, a hand finding the back of your head to hug you tightly. "I love you and I trust you."

"I love you too... and I trust you, Joshua," you replied with a hoarse tone from crying. "But, how can I tell you about this? I don't know how I would feel the roles were reversed. If you told me you felt something for someone else... I don't know how I'd react."

Joshua had been over this scenario on his head multiple times. "It's different," he said with an air of decisiveness. "I don't think this is as straightforward, baby."

You felt him press his lips on the crown of your head for a long minute.

"But more importantly... you can tell me anything, baby," he muttered, closing his eyes slowly as he sighed. "Even if it's about Jeonghan."

There was a pause, between him waiting for your answer patiently and you gathering your thoughts. This was definitely not something you had expected from your boyfriend. Granted, he had been extremely reasonable about your feelings for Jeonghan.

"I just want him to know that I'm sorry," you sobbed quietly, holding onto his shirt.

Joshua felt the small wet patches on his chest from your tears, he held you tighter against his body, when the painful jab of remorse returned.

"Have you tried talking to him?" he pried with a fear pulsing in his throat.

"Last time I tried he told me he's not ready," you replied and your tone weakened. "He stopped replying to my texts two weeks ago."

His arms wrapped your body tighter. "I'm sorry, bunny," he replied with honesty.

But a part of him burned with rage. He wasn't in the least bit pleased that Jeonghan had feelings for you, but on top of that he hated that he was making you suffer. Joshua understood that Jeonghan needed time to think, since this was a very complicated situation they were all embroidered in.

Still, he hated to see you cry.

"Maybe I can talk to him," he offered softly, resting his cheek on the crown of your head, his arms still cradling your body.

In all this time, Jeonghan and Joshua had not spoken, nor crossed paths. The reason why in reality was that Joshua had nothing to say. And if he thought of something to say, he wouldn't mean it.

In part, he felt betrayed by his best friend. Even if all of this was partly his doing, he started all of this. But still, there was a nagging feeling in him that no matter what he did, he couldn't shake it off.

"Maybe I can call him, ask him to hear you out. Would you like that baby?" he asked, now moving his head to see your face.

You mumbled something that resembled an affirmation. But you had already drifted into a slumber, losing the fight against the powerful sleeping tea that you didn't even finish drinking.

He certainly didn't take that to be an actual affirmation on your part. But he thought he might as well try. Because he had to at least try to fix something from this mess.

Joshua held you until he was certain you were completely asleep. Subconsciously, he started humming that song again as he memorized again the features of your face with the pads of his fingers, grazing your skin ever so gently that you never felt a thing.

He loved you. He ached at the thought of losing you all for his stupidity, for his blind jealousy.

Slowly, he leaned so he could rest his forehead on the crown of your head. I'm sorry, he pleaded silently, I love you.

Cradling you in his arms, he stood up from the couch, carrying you straight to bed where the covers were already drawn so he just easily laid you down, tucking you in.

He asked himself if he was even worthy of being your lover. Holding you like this, sleeping next to you after a day of showing you how much he loved you, he wondered if his love would amount to something enough for you. Mistakes and all.

The Spot was as busy as any thursday.

It had been a while since Joshua's last visit. He had some memories of being wasted, to the point that he fell asleep on the barstool he was sitting at, his head propped in the lacquered red bartop.

It seemed funny to him that Jeonghan was sitting in the same place now.

His fingers were toying with the neck of the empty bottle of beer, his head leaned forwards, eyes out of focus.

Joshua silently sat beside his best friend, drawing his attention to him with a dreary look. "Hey."

"Hi," Joshua replied with an empty smile.

"How did you know I was here?" Jeonghan asked, but his hollow tone implied that he knew, but just wanted to confirm his suspicions.

"I had someone on the lookout for you tell me," he informed, Jeonghan nodded and signaled to the person behind the bar with just two fingers.

"Thank you Mingoo," Jeonghan said, the hollow tone persisting.

Jeonghan had ordered two bottles of beer one for Joshua and one for himself, which upon arriving he took a sip of his own, directing a cold look at Joshua.

"I know why you're here."

Joshua took a deep breath through his nose, looking straight in front of him and he felt his own eyes fall out of focus as his mind began to reel.

"Tell me why I'm here," Joshua muttered, trying not to roll his eyes.

Jeonghan frowned, for the first time in the whole interaction he showed a sign of some shred of emotion. The confused look told Joshua that his best friend might have expected a confrontation like this, but maybe he was not ready yet.

"You want to talk about that night," Jeonghan muttered slowly, the frown still painting small lines between his eyebrows. "But there's nothing to talk about. I am sorry about... everything."

Jeonghan averted his gaze in front of him and took another generous gulp of beer. Joshua knew what he meant by everything, about violating his trust, about letting his feelings for you grow. Or at least, that was how Jeonghan saw it.

Jeonghan still wore one of your scrunchies around his wrist. Joshua closed his eyes as the flashing feeling of remorse coursed through him.

"You're wrong."

His best friend paused as he was about to lift the bottle from the surface of the bar. Slowly, the black haired man turned in the barstool to face Joshua, tilting his head to one side ever so slightly.

"Tell me how I'm wrong," he retorted.

"I'm not here to talk about that night," Joshua began to explain, taking another gulp of beer to gain some very much needed courage. "Nor do I want you to apologize for anything."

Jeonghan pursed his lips into a pout, almost as though he wanted to ask a big, "What?" but refrained from doing so.

"I..." Joshua started, sending a look to the dim lamps on the ceiling, he took another deep breath but it felt like no matter how many times he did that, the restless beating of his heart wouldn't let him free. "I need you to talk to her, Jeonghan... I need you two to talk."

Jeonghan froze, the only part of his body that moved was the pair of brown eyes, scanning Joshua's face over and over again.

"Why?"

The question was uttered slowly and pointedly. Almost as if Jeonghan were avoiding falling into a trap into the deeper parts of this conversation that both men were avoiding to have for nearly a month.

"Because you both need it," Joshua said but he immediately wanted to retract himself, shaking his head once. "She needs it, Jeonghan."

Joshua exhaled hoarsely, feeling that if he didn't hit pause he would soon suffer a mental breakdown. It was driving him crazy, it was burning what peace he had left to ashes.

Some nights had passed since Joshua saw you crying in the living room. You were reluctant to talk about that night again, and the memory of you crying refused to leave his mind. It was robbing him of sleep, of peace. He needed to do something.

There was a general understanding that Jeonghan saw right away. In more than three weeks of not speaking to each other, Jeonghan knew his best friend would not be asking that unless it was completely serious.

But he couldn't bring himself to say yes. By now, he was confused as to how much Joshua knew about what happened that night. Did you tell him about the conversation that led him to this moment? Is Joshua sitting here asking him to reach out to you, his own girlfriend without knowing how Jeonghan felt about you?

If he did know about it all, this was a very strange request to ask the guy that very evidently had feelings for you.

But if Joshua did not know...

"I need to know why," Jeonghan insisted, making Joshua dart a look his way swiftly.

"I told you why."

That much told his best friend that he was bluffing, making Jeonghan huff. "You're not here just because you want us to talk," he grimaced slightly, now toying with the bottle in his hand. "There's more. There's always more with you."

Joshua sighed, letting his eyes close briefly. "I'm leaving in a few weeks," Joshua admitted, licking his lips in an irked way.

"Ah, there it is," Jeonghan nodded with realization, and then he sighed too. "I can't keep doing this, Joshua."

The uneasy feeling invading his chest made him breathe near erratical. It hurt him to know that he caused all of this, and now the two most important people in his life were hurting too.

"I don't care," Joshua said with an annoyed hint in his tone, casting a glance at him. There he saw the guilt in his best friend's eyes too and his heart twisted even more before he blurted: "Just this once, and I'll leave you alone if that's what you want."

That definitely awoke an intrigue in him. "Does your girlfriend know you're here?" he inquired, pinning without much effort something that Joshua decided to omit.

"No and I'd like to keep it that way," he replied pointedly, setting the bottle down with a harsh thump. "Please. For now."

The two men exchanged a long glance that told years of knowing each other so deeply, they had learned to communicate without words. Jeonghan saw the desperation, the guilt and remorse in Joshua's eyes.

"Okay," his best friend replied, but the intrigue and the confusion didn't subside. "I will. I'll talk to her."

"Thank you," he muttered quietly, averting his gaze elsewhere. "I'm sorry about all of this too, Jeonghan. I know you didn't want any of it but if you love her, you'll listen to what she has to say."

Jeonghan froze. Slowly processing what he just heard, he waited for Joshua's next bluff, he waited for something to tell him that he might have misheard but before he could even protest, lie, or negate it, Joshua was already leaving his seat.

"So you do know."

"Please," he said, pulling out his wallet and drawing out a bill which he placed beneath his empty beer bottle. "I know you better than anyone else. Trust me, I know."

Completely thrown off, Jeonghan watched his best friend walk out of the bar, thus leaving him with much to think and no clear sign as to where to begin.

The ride back home was quiet. Joshua remained deep in thought for the whole half an hour, silently thanking that it was about nine o'clock and traffic was busy. He needed the extra minutes to think as to what he was doing, how he would confront you.

Ever since that night, Joshua had encountered a dilemma. He knew that you had feelings over Jeonghan, and that to some degree, it was mutual. He saw the hurt in your eyes afterwards, the inwardly quietness of your mourning of a friendship with him.

And now, he saw the same in Jeonghan. He saw the morose pain of losing you, of not being able to reach you. Something Joshua himself knew too well.

But what killed him was that this was somehow a result of his own choices. He asked Jeonghan to get closer to you, he left you for a month, it was a recipe for disaster.

And it wasn't that he didn't trust you, he did. And he trusts his best friend as well.

Even though he hated himself for all of this, he couldn't help but live in the memory of that night. It made him sick that, even if he had double intentions, he enjoyed it by far more than he had originally thought.

He felt sticky.

But he constantly thought of that night, he vexedly thought of how much he enjoyed watching you and Jeonghan having sex in front of him. It was like he saw a different version of you, and for some reason he could not pinpoint, he loved it.

It was fucked up, he knew that. He didn't know if he would ever confess that to you. But he suspected you knew it already, because he didn't make an attempt to hide it. Joshua liked the way the three of you moved seamlessly, almost as if... it were meant to be.

He felt torn.

Torn between hating himself and thinking of that night. Hating himself for playing with his best friend's feelings and for lying to you. Torn with jealousy because his best friend had feelings for you, but every time he thought of that night, he grew hard at the memory of you fucking Jeonghan.

As soon as Joshua crossed the door, he knew that you were working in your studio. All of the lights were out, leaving the apartment in a somber quietness that was only interrupted by the echoing traffic noise outside.

The curtains were drawn, so the living room was dimly illuminated by the city lights. Joshua discarded his shoes by the entrance before making his way to turn on the lamp on the corner of the room and then went looking for you.

Gently, he pushed the door to your studio, finding the only source of light being your double monitors. You didn't budge, partly because your noise cancellation headphones kept you from knowing Joshua had arrived home.

Joshua leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms as he watched briefly you typing away, every now and then you bobbed your head to what he presumed was the song you were listening to.

He didn't want to pry, because he suspected that times when you were deep into your writing session, you wanted to be left alone. Sometimes, when you were not as busy, he would crash on the small couch next to your desk.

Those times, he would lie idly scrolling on his phone or playing his acoustic guitar. But inevitably, he would fall into a distraction. Just as he was now, lost in the imagination of a life with you, the cherishing of the moments he can get like this.

Before he has to go away again.

Something made you stop typing and you pushed the keyboard in as a sign of termination. A few clicks and then you reluctantly turn your head, as though you already knew he was standing there.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hover," he smiled softly at you.

You grabbed your headset and pulled your head back out of it. "You're back!" you sighed in a pleased surprise. "Hi handsome."

A surge of tenderness and warmth washed over him, suddenly being overcome with the need to melt into you.

"Hi beautiful," he replied, his voice sounding a little hoarse.

He crossed the distance between the door to your study to your armchair and before you could get to your feet, he was already leaning down, grabbing your chin with two fingers to kiss you. It was a brief, tender kiss that ended with a small smacking sound and a hum from you.

"Someone's in a mood," you noticed right away with a tiny smile. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's okay," he whispered before diving again into your soft lips, capturing them with a low hum from his part now, trying to wordlessly let you know that he needed you.

"Okay," you replied in a mere whisper, taken away by the urgency to which your lips were being hugged by his now.

"Are you done with that?" he asked, his voice raspy to what he assumed was the need, the love and adoration he felt for you flooding inside him.

"No, not yet," you replied with a playful grin. "Why?"

Joshua thought of the way you elongated that question, the taunting velvety tone you gave to it. "Because I was thinking of you on my way back," he mumbled, still littering kisses on your lips, moving to one of your cheeks as he kept speaking. "I remembered that I owe you a massage."

"Well then get on with it," you let out a small chuckle that sounded sweet to him, though it was playful. "You don't need to be all over me to do it, Mr. Hong."

That made him laugh in both awe and lack of words.

So he just simply scooped you up off your chair. He initially crouched a little, securing your body with his hands as you wordlessly understood what he intended to do and reached out to wrap your legs around his waist.

Not without some struggle due to the darkness, he searched his way to the bedroom, where Joshua quite literally threw you to the bed, sighing with amusement as he heard you squeak when you landed on the mattress.

You looked at him up and down, a glint of excitement in your eyes.

But Joshua found it hard to move for a moment. The way that you looked at him made him freeze, he found the love and carnal need in your eyes and he almost had to slap himself.

The pause was brief but you noticed. "Come here," you muttered sweetly, reaching out a hand to him.

Joshua climbed on the high bed, placing each of his hands at your sides, his body hovering on top of yours as he slowly propped his knees and elbows to pin your body down with his.

"How was your thing with the boys?" you asked as he planted a tender kiss on the apple of your cheek. "I actually thought you'd be gone for longer."

A sharp pain tugged at his insides. You didn't know he had gone out to meet Jeonghan, and he felt bad for lying to you. He felt bad at how easily he could craft a story to deceive you.

"It was fine," he whispered, taking advantage of the position of his face, so you couldn't see his eyes, probably translating the restlessness he felt inside.

"Did you guys have fun?" you asked and he knew you were just trying to make normal conversation.

"Yeah, you know them," he sighed, trying to make his voice sound at ease. "They're pretty chill."

You shuddered slightly when his breath caressed a sensitive spot on your neck as he leaned to press more kisses on your skin, his heart deflating at every second he waited for your next question. But luckily you quickly shifted your attention to his lips reaching your collarbones.

Your hand slid on the nape of his neck. "Oh, Josh..." you whispered shakily, a small moan coiling when he didn't care to get rid of the t-shirt you were wearing, which he noticed was his.

He cupped your breasts with his hands, fingers digging gently on the cotton fabric as he pressed his mouth on your already pebbled nipple, which he teased with his lips and teeth, gently to not hurt you but harsh enough to make your breath hitch embarrassingly.

"I thought I was getting a massage," you mumbled faintly, your hands searching his body for somewhere to hold onto, a hand deciding to tangle on his long golden hair while the other parked on his back.

"You'll get it, baby," he replied in kind, his hands searching for your shorts, practically ripping them off of you. "But right now I need you."

"Slow down, Josh," you sighed bemusedly as he tossed the shorts to the floor.

"Sorry," he whispered, pressing more kisses into your lips, those becoming more and more heated and hasty. "I really need you."

With a low hum, you were quickly subdued to his carnal desire, holding onto his shoulders your hands roamed all over his back. "You don't want to take this off?" you muttered, fingers tugging on the jacket on his shoulders.

"Yeah, okay," he breathed. Then he pulled back, yanking his brown jacket. And with a thrust of his arm, he carelessly tossed the jacket to the floor.

The sight made you tilt your head on the pillows. "I want the t-shirt gone too, Joshua," you mumbled with a small smile tugging at your lips.

Joshua gave no thought to your command and obliged wordlessly. He just saw the glint in your eyes as his hands searched for the hem of the white t-shirt, pulling it over his head with one motion of his arms.

And just as he began to lean towards your body on the bed, you stopped him. You just lifted one leg from the bed, placing your foot between his pecs.

"Jeans too," you said sultrily quirking up an eyebrow at him. Though there was a noticeable quiver in your tone due to nervousness, the darkened look in your eyes convinced him.

Lately, you have been trying your hand at taking control in the bedroom. A few commands here and there, until you grow more and more sheepish and beg him to retake control. Though obviously not without some teasing from his part.

But tonight, Joshua thought that maybe this is just what he needed. He needed to disconnect his mind from all that troubled him, he needed you to have your fun with him, to use him, to punish him.

So he climbed off the bed, unbuckling his belt, the clinking sound as it dangled made you prop half of your body with your elbows to keep looking at his body as he became progressively more naked.

He stepped out of his light blue jeans, sneaking a glance up at you in your bed as he started to crawl back on top of you. You were biting your bottom lip, hiding an excited smile as you saw his beautiful tanned skin, his bulging biceps and toned pecs.

"You're so hot," you welcomed him wrapping your arms around his neck as he hovered on top of you, meeting your lips with his own with soft and wet kisses. "And mine."

That made him smile as he kissed you deeper. "All yours," he whispered, feeling weak over the way you hummed happily in his mouth, your hands roaming all over his back.

"Yeah, baby?" you mumbled, your voice tiny but still in a taunting purr. A perfect mimic to his own voice when he is the one in control. "Will you do something for me then?"

"Anything," he breathed, his lips finding a sensitive spot on your neck quite effortlessly, just to hear your breath hitch and feel how your body tensed up.

"Get the handcuffs," you murmured into his ear, your fingers raking through his golden hair in a response to your own nervousness.

Joshua paused, but he didn't think of questioning you, or teasing you. He pulled back to see the certainty in your eyes and nodded, making his way to the dresser where you both kept a variety of sex toys and other accessories.

As he got the pink handcuffs he got for you in what felt like forever ago, not mere months, you got to your knees and reached out to your nightstand.

Immediately, he got a notion of what your plan was when he eyed the blindfold in your hands.

"Can you–," you paused, gathering your words in your mind before trying again. "Lie down for me, Josh."

He tried to conceal a smirk by biting his lower lip. But he obliged anyway, partly because he wanted to see where you would go with this. But on the other hand, he ached for you.

"Hands up," you breathed nervously, but the excitement in your eyes made him beam at you. You smiled and nodded your head at the railings of the headboard. "Don't make me ask again."

Anticipation ran thick and heavy through his body. His eyes remained trained on you as he raised his arms over his head, fingers grazing the rails.

You sat back on your heels, hovering over him as you reached out to secure the cuffs around his wrists. You noticed his eyes focused on your face, noticed the dark and greedy need that was slowly eating him from the inside.

"Be good for me," you whispered with a sheepish smile, leaning down to press your lips against his.

"Always am," he breathed, sounding hoarse from the urgent desire beating fast in his throat.

"We'll see about that, baby," you replied, so close to his own face still that he could feel the smile curving in your lips.

Joshua closed his eyes, letting go of his worries when your lips met his again. The pain and remorse slowly blended with the deep craving for your touch, for your love and undivided attention. Selfish, he told himself with a slight rush of guilt, but he couldn't bring himself to stop you.

Because your lips were on his. He swore he could melt into your gentle touch, the tenderness to which you always seem to carry yourself even in moments like this. He hadn't known a tender kiss like yours.

But you quickly progressed into a deeper, heated kiss, tugging at his lower lip with your teeth, making him groan quietly. "You look so hot like this," you said in a breathy mewl, slowly moving your knees to his sides.

Straddling him, you ran a hand from his forehead to the crown of his head, fingers skating through the golden locks of his hair, looking at him with a glint of mischief in your eyes.

"I have a confession to make," you smiled sweetly, your hand left his hair, sliding a fingertip from his cheekbone to his chin. "I was also thinking about you before you got home."

"Y-you were?" he had to swallow hard, his voice sounded hoarse from the lust, love and adoration slowly consuming him whole.

"Yeah," you breathed before biting on your lower lip. "I couldn't even focus on my writing."

"What were you thinking about?" he asked with a low murmur as you continued to litter his skin with wet kisses, he shuddered hard when your sweet breath caressed the curve of his neck.

"I thought of the things I want to do to you," you said breathily, you trailed down to his collarbones, sneaking a glance at him with a sheepish smile. "Have I ever told you?"

Joshua shifted in his position slightly, the metal chain linking the cuffs clanked against the rails of the headboard. "No, I don't think so," he whispered, closing his eyes when you resumed with your little trail of kisses on his skin.

There was a single mole sitting perfectly between his pecs, which you kissed lovingly as your fingers skated on his chest, caressing over, a thumb circling around his nipple just as your mouth kissed the other.

The strangled sound that came from Joshua made you grin, he felt it on his skin as you hummed bemusedly. Joshua was sensitive around his chest area, and you were always so excited to find out just how far you could go.

"I think of having you like this," you raised your eyes to his hands cuffed to the headboard, his beefy biceps framing his golden brown head. "I thought of kissing every single inch of your body."

Joshua made note of the punctuated manner you delivered the last few words, he thought of how sultrily you sounded. Sweet and dangerous.

"I thought of teasing you, marking you..." you gave him a bashful look, trying to bite your own smile as you moved to kiss his other nipple. "I want to see how obedient you can be."

Joshua closed his eyes again, trying to put no resistance to your newly found dominance over him. Raking your fingernails over his chest, littering him with feathery kisses that made him suck in a breath.

"Fuck," he squeezed his eyelids tightly when you suckled the skin on the underside of one of his pecs. His body tensed up, the cuffs clanking against the headboard. "Baby..."

"Mm? How does that feel, Josh?" you asked, a smile playing on your lips.

"Good," he breathed, licking his lips.

"Yeah?" you cocked your head to one side cutely, puckering your glossy lips before attaching them to his skin.

"Yeah..." he replied faintly, limbs relaxing into pleasure when your lovebites became harsher, mercilessly marking his skin.

He vaguely remembered the time where he didn't let anyone so much scratched his skin. He belonged to no one, so no one would leave a mark.

And there he was. Willingly subduing himself to you, letting you leave your mark on his skin, because he was completely yours.

"Stay still," you advised with a low tone before running your tongue on the recently marked area, which was already tingling.

But he couldn't help it, he tensed again, flinching so abruptly that his body nearly made yours jump.

"Joshua," you warned sternly.

"Sorry. Sorry, baby," he rasped with a laugh that remarked on his shyness. "I'm not used to this."

He was usually the one in control. The one torturing you with slow kisses, and you the one cuffed to the headboard. So the times you actually had him at your mercy were very few.

"Mmn, then I think I'll put this on you," you grabbed the blindfold that you had placed aside. "I'll remove it only if you behave."

Joshua didn't try to hide his discontent with that, sending you a glare before lifting his head from the pillows to let you secure the blindfold around his head, covering his eyes.

"There you go," you whispered. "Good boy."

Your fingers slid to cup his chin before capturing his lips with your own in a heated kiss. His tongue swept inside your mouth, muffling a raspy moan that denoted his need for you.

"If you misbehave again, I'll just use my toys and force you to watch," you muttered, emboldened by the absence of his attentive gaze on you now.

"I'll behave," he replied immediately, ignoring the quivering in his tone. "Please, just... don't stop."

There was a pause, your fingers left his chin and with a painful jab in his chest he considered pleading with you to remove his cuffs, maybe just release one of his hands. He wanted to feel you, to ease the ache eating him from the inside.

"Baby? Please," he whispered, licking his lips with some anxiousness. "Please keep going."

"Mmn, someone's a little impatient," you cooed, he could hear you smiling through your tone. "Why are you in a rush? We have all night, baby."

He cursed at himself silently for teaching you everything you were doing. But he couldn't deny that he was enjoying this way too much.

You sat back, pressing your clothed pussy on the hard bulge beneath his boxers. "Oh," you breathed upon feeling the small wet patch on the stretchy and dark fabric he still wore. You had scooted back a little sitting now on his strong thighs.

The next thing he felt was strands of your hair caressing his abdomen before you pressed more kisses around his belly button. Joshua had to ball his hands into fists to avoid jumping dramatically on the bed.

"Fuck," he breathed, feeling your fingers hooking on the band of his boxers and he braced himself, biting hard on his lower lip as your lips pressed more kisses down his happy trail.

Your fingers pushed the waistband of his boxers down further, a sigh of something that sounded close to awe spilled from your lips when his erection slapped his lower abdomen.

You crawled backwards to pull his boxers down his long legs, with a bit of his help. "Have I told you how much I like this?" you whispered, running a finger through his soft pubic hair.

"Maybe," he sighed, suppressing a shudder.

"Baby, I don't think I'd ever seen you this wet," you pointed with a gentle tone.

A finger circled around his slit, gathering the precum on his cockhead. "Mmn," you hummed softly, making him assume that you were licking the precum off your own fingers.

"Baby," he whispered with a near palpable urgency. "Please..."

"Yes, Josh?"

"Please don't make me wait," he pleaded, his voice raspy and he hated how needy he sounded but at the same time he wouldn't dare to pretend otherwise.

"Why should I?" you asked.

"I'll be good, just..." he sighed when your hand started caressing his thighs. "Let me feel you, baby, please..."

"Like this?" you muttered, your hand circling around his length and started stroking him slowly.

He groaned, sinking his head back in the pillows, his heart constricting. "No, baby, not like that," he gasped, but his mouth fell slowly when your grip became tighter around him, moving on his hard cock faster.

You rolled your hand on his bulbous head expertly, smearing his precum all over his veiny shaft, the jerking of your hand causing a wet sound.

"Then how, Josh?" you cooed, making him once again to be rid of the blindfold to see your face. "You don't like this?"

You were probably biting your lip over the sight of him trying to behave and follow your command. You were probably reveling at the sight of him subdued to you, the twitching of his fingers, his throat bobbing.

"I–, I do," he rasped. "Can I have your mouth? Please baby, I'm being good," he whispered, moving his head sideways to muffle a moan against his own bicep when he felt your pretty lips on one of his thighs.

"Mmmn, I guess..." you sighed with a pleased tone. But you didn't give him what he wanted right away.

"Please," he whispered, his thighs tensing involuntarily when your lips kissed closer to his crotch on his thigh. "Please, please..."

"I'll give you my mouth," you conceded, the movement of your hand didn't relent in speed, didn't relax your grip. "But you're going to tell me when you're close."

He nodded frantically.

"Good boy," you whispered, your fist slowed down but you continued jerking him off, giving him a broad stroke of your tongue on the underside of his cock, trailing down to his balls.

"Fuck," he clenched his jaw tightly, the muscle on his abdomen tensing before he groaned gutturally. "Fuck, fuck, baby..."

"Do you like that?" you asked swiftly, your hand rolling over his cockhead to spread his precum all over his cock before you wrapped your mouth on his balls, sucking slightly, testing for his reaction.

"Y-yeah," he croaked, craning his neck as his head sunk on the pillows.

The gentle slurping sound that came from your mouth only egged him on, but he forced himself to ground his body on the bed, the only part of his body allowed to move was his mouth as he moaned breathily.

"So good," he murmured faintly. swearing he could see colors as your mouth continued to suck on his balls, your hand pumping him languidly, distractedly.

"Remember what I told you." you muttered before wrapping your mouth around his cockhead, licking him slowly, as if simulating an open kiss, tasting the salty precum.

"God, fuck," he gasped, moaning hoarsely when you sank your mouth on him, hollowing your cheeks out as you moved up, swirling around the bulbous head. "Baby, I don't think I'll last long."

But you continued bobbing your head up and down his cock, your hand pumping on the base, tongue swirling, sucking him harder.

"Baby, I'm close," he croaked with urgency. "I'm close, fuck, fuck."

You stopped a second later, detaching your mouth and hand altogether from his throbbing cock as he groaned loudly, panting as though he had run a marathon. Even with the blindfold still on, he squeezed his eyes, scrunching in the fleeting attempt to resist his climax.

"Good?" you asked quietly when his breathing calmed down.

"Good," he nodded.

"If I take this off, will you continue to be good?" you asked, lifting a side of the blindfold.

"I promise," he gasped, still sounding breathless. "Please."

The blindfold was slid up carefully. Joshua lifted his head to help you get rid of the headband and placed his head back into the pillows with a pleased sigh.

"Thank you," he whispered, he could finally see you now.

You were still wearing his oversized t-shirt, and panties. But upon scanning you up and down, he noticed your demeanor, the mischievous glint in your eyes as you went back to your position between his spread legs.

"You're being so good, baby," you whispered, sending him a glance. A smirk crowned your glistening lips.

You were relishing at the sight of him handcuffed to the rails of your bed, chest covered in new hickeys, golden brown hair disheveled, eyes wild in lust.

"Where were we?" you asked with feigned innocence, wrapping one hand around his wet cock. "Do you want more, baby?"

Joshua released a sigh through gritted teeth, bracing himself for more torture. Nodding, he replied with a strangled groan. "Please."

"Tell me when you're close again," you whispered before kissing the tip of his cock, gathering the precum with your tongue with a pleased moan.

Now that he had a view of what you were doing to him, he knew that he wouldn't last long.

An urgent, breathy moan spilled from him the moment you wrapped your mouth around him, sinking down on him expertly, taking him wholly. The sight of his cock disappearing in your mouth was near maddening.

"Fuck!" he gasped, tugging at the pink handcuffs in a knee jerk reaction. His thumb brushed the button that could set his wrists free, but he didn't press down on it, the thought didn't even cross his mind.

He ground his hips down on the bed in an attempt to not push them into your mouth. He ached to come... he ached to hear you give him the permission to do so.

"Baby..." he mumbled. "God, that feels so good."

He closed his eyes briefly, gritting his teeth tightly but nothing worked, his ears buzzed, he could taste the sweet release, see it behind his closed eyes in colors and stars.

The wet, smacking sounds that came from your mouth was the only thing he could register for a moment. The quietness in the room overtaken by the sounds created by your mouth, relentlessly going up and down on his hard cock, your drool dripping onto his hilt and his balls.

"Bunny, I'm going to come," he mumbled faintly, he cleared his throat once and insisted. "God, baby, I'm close."

You stopped again, but this time Joshua only breathed deeply, eyes closed to focus on bringing himself back down. He knew that if he saw your face, he wouldn't be able to make it.

"Mmmn," he heard you hum in thought. "Such a good boy. Look."

Obfuscated, he opened his eyes to see you swipe a thumb on his slit, not without some flinching from his part. You had picked up a white bead of his cum and now directing a lascivious glance at him, you took the pad of your thumb to your mouth.

"You're good at resisting your orgasm for me," you pointed with a small smirk. "I wonder if you'll be this good when you're inside me."

He shook his head slightly. "I don't think I can last longer," he mumbled, frowning slightly. "I need to come, baby. Please, let me come."

You tilted your head to one side cutely. "But I'm just starting to have fun," you pouted, but a smile broke your bratty act.

"And I'll make you feel good," he offered with some urgency coating his words. "Please? I'll do whatever you want, just please... let me come."

"Mmmm," you pretended to consider his plea, pursing your lips and looking upwards. "Fine. But only because you're being good."

You leaned your mouth down on him again, looking at him straight in his eyes as you continued to suck the life out of him, bobbing your head up and down, doing everything you know drives him absolutely crazy.

"Fuck," he sighed, balling his hands into fists the moment you hollowed your your cheeks, swiping your tongue around the very sensitive cockhead. "God, baby! Just like that, please, please..."

He lifted his head from the pillows, breathing embarrassingly hard and loud, being so close to his orgasm his thighs and abdomen had already tensed in anticipation.

A breathy moan escaped him once again, making him sound weak and pathetic but he couldn't care less. Your beautiful eyes were locked with his, enjoying every reaction he gave you.

"I'm close," he warned, letting his head fall back onto the pillows. "Baby, baby... fuuuuuck."

You sucked him harder, your tongue pleasured his cockhead eliciting one long raspy moan from him as ropes of cum spilled from him and onto your mouth. You swallowed instantly, looking at him babble and incoherent things to you.

"Thank you," he breathed. "Thank you, baby," he said over and over, breathing hard, eyes closed tightly as he enjoyed every second of his orgasm.

You kept swallowing until he stopped cumming in your mouth and you finished with a loving kiss that you pressed on the reddened tip of his cock.

"Good?" he heard you mumble.

"Good," he replied with a shy smile and opened his eyes.

You looked pleased with your work, in fact you were almost considering calling it a night and skip to aftercare. You leaned forward, reaching the cuffs with a hand and pressed the release button.

"You were so good, Josh," you smiled cutely at him before kissing his studded brow.

His hands searched for you, landing on the line of your back as he kissed whatever part of you he could find, his lips brushed your chin, pressing frenzied kisses until he reached your lips.

A small giggle from you vibrated in his mouth. "Josh," you squealed when his hands forced you to press your body on his. "You don't want to rest, baby? You came pretty hard."

"No," he breathed against your lips. "Need to make you feel good."

"I'm good," you replied dazedly, threading your fingers through his hair. "We can stop here."

"No, please," he muttered with some urgency making his voice quiver. "I can keep going, baby."

You knew your boyfriend could go for hours. In fact, the last time you counted, he could go for five rounds in one night, one after the other. That night made him certain that no other person could make him feel like this.

"Okay..." you breathed.

Joshua's hands slid down from your back, a finger slipped beneath the backside of your lace panties and his other hand wrapped around the waistband, effortlessly ripping the delicate fabric in two.

"Joshua!" you chastised, but there was a smile on your face. "You could've just asked me to take them off."

"Faster this way," he muttered, throwing your ruined panties away and promptly took the hem of his t-shirt to get it off you.

You sent him an amused look before raising your arms to help with his task of undressing you completely.

Joshua chucked the bundled up t-shirt aside and his hands slipped on the back of your head, fingers threading on your hair as he pulled you down for a deep kiss, a moan reverberating on his chest.

He felt you adjust on top of him, your hand carefully searching for his cock, fingers wrapping around him to languidly pump his erection before you threw your body back, angling your wet cunt on his cock.

A sweet sigh spilled from your lips. You decided to toy with him some more by sliding your slippery folds on him up and down. His reddened cockhead dripping wet with your arousal, sensitive over the hard blowjob and the edging.

"Please," he sighed and pleaded with a weak tone: "No more teasing."

"Mmf," you nodded but kept sliding your cunt on his cock, his bulbous head had grown sensitive making him flinch when you rubbed your clit against it, drawing a strangled moan from him.

"Baby, please," his hands gripping your waist nearly give out and force you to sink down on him, but he had to command some control on himself.

"Just a bit longer," you sighed, throwing your head back as your fingers pressed on the underside of his shaft keeping his cock lodged between your folds as you moved your hips back and forth, rubbing your clit on him.

"Sensitive," he whispered, sinking his head on the pillows as tears brimmed in his eyes. But he gritted his teeth, unable to deny that he loved being used by you. "I need you, please. Please baby, just fuck me."

Your mouth parted, letting out a moan that told how much you liked to hear him beg. You liked to hear in his tone, to see in his face how bad he wanted you.

"Please," he insisted with a mere whisper, his eyes trained on your pussy lips spread open by his cock, slick rubbed all over him, he savored the throbbing, the warmth but it hurt at the same time.

And without any warning, you sank down on him. "Joshua!" you squealed when his grip on your hips tightened to the point that it hurt.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he whispered, squeezing his teary eyes shut. "I'm sorry baby, fuck, fuck, you feel so good."

Your hands found his thighs, angling your body back to move your hips on him, fucking yourself on his cock, riding him in a way you never had.

He opened his eyes to see the beautiful features of your face taken over by blissful pleasure, then he saw his cock glistening wet with your arousal disappearing inside your walls. "Fuck, baby," he sighed in pure awe. "I fucking love you so much."

Joshua sounded so pathetic, his voice was raspy and almost sounded as if he were about to cry. But a soft smile appeared on your face, a glint of love in your eyes.

"I love you too, baby," you replied sweetly, removing a hand from his thigh and placing it over one of his. "So much."

Without thinking, he grabbed you and flipped your back onto the mattress, the movement so swift and efficient you could only squeal in surprise.

"Sorry, sorry baby," he whispered again, positioning himself between your legs and eased himself, thrusting shallowly inside you with a pleased moan that was muffled by your mouth.

It wasn't about regaining control, he just wanted to be face to face with you, kissing you, feeling your chest pressed to his.

"I love you," he whispered again, forgetting about subbing for you but he kept the pace of his thrusts fast and steady, enjoying the sound of your sweet moans in blissful pleasure.

"I love you, Josh," you responded dazedly, wrapping your legs around him, your fingers threading on his golden brown hair.

Joshua leaned his head down, his forehead pressing with yours. You felt the studded piercing grazing your eyebrow, his breath caressing your lips as he moaned gutturally.

A hand searched on the back of his head, grabbing one of yours and he pinned it down on the pillow, locking his fingers with yours.

"I love you," he mouthed, so quietly that you never noticed, being so enraptured in pleasure, moaning his name over and over.

Your hand slipped from his nape down to cup his cheek, bringing him for a sweet kiss that almost toppled him over the edge. "I'm close, Josh," you sighed.

Joshua nodded with his head, diving for another kiss, locking his lips with yours but deeper this time, his tongue swiping over your lower lip and into your mouth. You let out a high pitched moan into his mouth as became undone, the sweet waves of pleasure washing over you.

The feeling of your walls squeezed around him pushed him over too, he stifled a moan, tightening his grip on your hand slightly as he spilled himself inside you with shallow thrusts.

He slumped down on top of you, face cradled in the crook of your neck as the thumping in his eardrums subsided, along with the frenzied feeling coursing in his veins. Hearing your ragged gasps, feeling your legs shaking around him, your free hand stroking his back, his nape, and then his hair.

Joshua thought of something cheesy to say. But no words came out of him. So he settled for the quiet, peaceful moment you gave him, though oblivious to the turmoil that buzzed in his mind. Your heart was beating fast under his chest, and slowly, as he came out of it, he could feel his own heart beating against yours.

The day after, Joshua was returning from a practice session when he noticed you had left the apartment. Looking around the place and looking for you in your study, he only found your phone on your desk. So he promptly knew where to find you.

You turned to see him when he pushed the door open to the rooftop. "Hi bunny," he muttered softly upon standing beside you, close to the walled up ledge of the building.

"Hi baby," you pressed your lips in a weak smile.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Everything alright?"

You shook your head no. "Jeonghan texted me," you whispered, your lower lip quivering slightly.

Joshua stilled as your eyes watered but you quickly brushed it off by looking skyward and breathing deeply. "What did he say?"

"He wants to talk."

"Baby, this is good. It's what you wanted, right? You can tell him how you feel," Joshua said, but the words sounded strangled, as if it took everything in him to voice them out.

You sent him a reluctant look. "I thought that I'd be ready. Now, I don't know what to say," your voice quivered as your eyes brimmed with tears rapidly. "I broke his heart, Joshua."

"We both did," he whispered, feeling his own heart deflate upon the confession.

"What?" you asked, but he wasn't looking at your face anymore.

Shame finally took over him, making him turn his face away. "I suspected that he had feelings for you before that night..." he started, the weight of his guilt sitting at the base of his throat.

"How?"

"He was unusually gentle to you," he mumbled, shaking his head slightly. "You thought that he was being friendly, and he is, don't get me wrong. But this was different, and I know this because I've known him for longer; he spent a lot of time with you, hugged you, called you princess..."

You shuddered, hard enough that Joshua noticed. He saw how you bristled in pain and that almost broke him.

"I don't blame you for not noticing," he said right before you thought of saying something about this. "But I saw the way you looked at him... I heard your speech the night of your book release, and I understood that in my absence you had him. In the month that I left he gave you what I couldn't and I don't blame you if that made you grow feelings, baby."

He gathered his courage and took a deep breath. He wondered again if he deserved you. Maybe he didn't, he thought. Maybe he knew all along and was just sabotaging everything before he could hurt you more.

"And then you told me you wanted to invite him over for a threesome and I agreed, partly because I wanted it. But I also wanted to see if I was right about your feelings for him. I should've told you before but... I was jealous, I was mad at Jeonghan."

Joshua closed his eyes, burdened with guilt and remorse, the pain burning in his chest. He regretted with all his being the moment he decided to torture his best friend and lie to you all because of his own jealousy.

His fingers trembled slightly as he clasped his hands together, blinking at the sky above him while inhaling deeply. The silence was deadly, but he couldn't bring himself to face you.

"You shouldn't have done that, Joshua," you finally whispered, so quietly he needed to see your face. You were crying now, shaking slightly with sobs.

"I know, believe me. I know," he turned to face you now, trying to get you to look at the honesty in his eyes but you just averted your gaze elsewhere. "And I am sorry, I truly am. Baby? Please, look at me."

He cautiously brought a hand to hold your chin, but you quickly turned away before he could even touch you.

"Don't touch me," you whispered, recoiling from his touch and walking towards the door.

Joshua went completely rigid, you turned away from him, his mind began to reel before so fast he was barely aware of the pain that was searing through him.

Calling your name aloud, he tried to chase you before you could reach the door. "Baby, please stop—just listen to me."

"We'll talk when I get back, Joshua," you snapped, turning to flash him a look that stopped the blood cold in his veins.

"Would you have told me otherwise?" he asked, his voice raising to make you hear the urgency in his tone. "If you had known, if you had been certain about your feelings for him, would you have told me?"

You turned to him now, eyes flaring with rage and despair. "You don't agree to a fucking threesome to get me to confront my feelings for him!"

"Answer the question," Joshua retorted, his heart beating faster than ever before.

You sucked in a breath shakily as tears continued to fall down your cheeks. "No. I don't know," you replied with a frustrated tone. "I don't think I would have even admitted it to myself."

Joshua pressed his lips into a tight line. He hoped that you would see what he saw, that you both fucked up and cannot go any longer ignoring that you were hurting each other, hurting Jeonghan.

"I told you before, I needed time–," you gasped and covered your face with your hands in a gesture of frustration. "I can't do this right now, Joshua. I can't talk to you."

His heart instantly deflated, remorse, guilt and pain had finally given way with him, tearing him apart. It had been a while since he last cried, he realized. "I'm sorry," he said.

Hot tears blurred the vision of your pinched eyebrows, the disappointment on your face was the last thing he saw on you before you turned towards the door and left him behind.

You were not sure which door to use. It was the first time you had come to this place, but you assumed that the safest option or the quickest route was the front door.

The theater was dark and it felt cold under the seemingly lack of activity inside. But you heard voices, and loud noises behind a pair of double doors that let white light seep through the crevices.

The nervousness coursing through your veins made your blood pulsate in your throat. The moment you left your apartment you were unable to shake the feeling that you were making a huge mistake.

But at the same time, you needed to be there. You needed to fix things.

"Can I help you miss?" a voice called from behind.

"I'm looking for someone," you replied with a jump, your hand flying to your chest.

Upon turning, the face you saw was familiar.

"Oh, hi there," Joshua's old flatmate, Seokmin raised a hand and waved in a friendly way.

"Hi there," you replied.

"Who're you looking for?" he asked politely. "I work here, so maybe I can point you in the right direction, y'know? It's a big place, easy to get lost."

You took one second to consider how the situation would look to someone who knows both Joshua and Jeonghan. In particular, someone who knows you as Joshua's partner.

Seokmin pressed his lips into the smallest of smiles, not noticing you pause.

"Yoon Jeonghan, do you know him?" you asked meekly, voice quivering.

"That's my boss," he nodded with a pleased tone. "This way."

He turned and headed to the direction you assumed he came from, which was a hallway that distanced the double doors from sight.

"Are you here for the job offer?" he asked curiously, turning to see your face as he enunciated his question.

"J-job offer?" you shook your head silently.

"Yeah, we're in the middle of putting this show together and one of our writers quit recently," he pointed and then his tone suddenly changed. "And... Shua told me you're a writer..."

He turned his head and looked forward, the tips of his ears blazing bright red.

"Oh, don't worry," you smiled shyly too, with a twist to your heart from hearing your boyfriend's name. "But no, uh... Jeonghan is a friend."

"Ah, of course," he sighed, not hiding his relief. "Well, I'm not surprised. He's quite the popular guy."

You nodded, deciding to remain quiet.

The hallways were brightly lit, and as you walked further alongside Seokmin, you picked up more busy noise, voices, people breaking into song, shouting, laughing.

"It's a circus here," Seokmin muttered. "We're getting ready for a rehearsal so it's really busy here."

You stopped walking. "I can come back later," you stammered, suddenly feeling stupid over your rash decision of coming to talk to him, breaking your last agreement with Jeonghan.

The last time you talked to him, he asked for time. You weren't ready to confront your feelings either so you thought it was more convenient for you two to think about what really happened between you two.

"He's not as busy right now, I guess," he frowned slightly. "Are you sure? I can tell him you stopped by."

"Oh no, please don't," you blurted, turning on your heel and waving at Seokmin. "I'll find my way out! Thank you."

You practically ran to find the front door, your mind buzzing with so many thoughts at once that you didn't care how abruptly you left Seokmin, you didn't want to think that you were coming back home to face your boyfriend.

A sharp pain stabbed you right in the chest that you had to fill your lungs with air in order to make the feeling go away.

You stopped before the double doors once again just as your eyes caught the sight of a tall man pacing back and forth before a small stage down below rows of seats.

You pushed the door, the loud creaking noise making Jeonghan snap his head your way.

He froze at the same time you did, but he was faster than you. He handed the tablet he was holding to someone next to him, muttering a few words that made that person and the rest of the crew back away from the stage, calling a break.

Moving slowly down the rows of steps just as he was coming toward you with a question written in his eyes.

Seeing his face again after three weeks of no contact was more than you initially thought it would be. You had missed him with every fiber of your being, you missed his quiet company, his gentle voice, the jokes, the laughs.

Somehow you both met in the middle of the stairs. Jeonghan had to raise his sweet brown eyes to meet yours. A small frown appeared in your face when you choked on your words when you attempted to communicate that you needed to talk to him.

Failing to use your words, and without giving much thought you flung your arms around him just as he wrapped you in his too. His hands rubbed your back when you choked back a sob.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, though you were lost on how he was the one apologizing.

But he did it again, he whispered in your ear as you couldn't contain your tears anymore, he held you for a long while, rubbing your back, whispering that he was sorry over and over again.

"I'm sorry too, Jeonghan," you replied finally. "I know you wanted me to give you more time, but–"

"Don't," he interrupted. "Don't apologize. I shouldn't have made you wait for so long."

The comfort those words gave you made more tears and sobs break their way. For nights you wished for him to just talk to you, to let you explain what happened.

"Are you alright?" he asked, breaking away from your arms slightly, just to scan your face with his eyes. "Did something happen?"

Even if time had passed, he knew you perfectly still. You nodded. "We need to talk," you muttered, looking into his eyes. "I need to talk to you."

Jeonghan nodded, the certainty he offered you in his sweet eyes made you realize that in fact, Joshua was right and you loved him too.

You weren't sure what would happen, you weren't sure of the person you would be after this conversation. But one thing you knew is that by doing this, you could offer a bit of honesty in all this mess to Jeonghan and to yourself.

You would deal with Joshua later.

✮ author's note: hi hi hi there everyone! here it is city lights season 2, lights out! ta-da!!!

i uh, have no explanations for this. i knew i said city lights season 2 would go on hiatus, but i just couldn't resist it and i wanted to torture some people (namely v from windsor) lmao

that's it for me,

toodles

✮ STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO!! ✮

buy me coffee? 🩵

#joshua hong smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #svthub #jeonghan x reader #joshua hong x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan fanfic #joshua smut #svt fanfic #jeonghan fanfic #joshua fluff #joshua hong fluff #joshua hong fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #hannieween #ff:lights out

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vettelsvee · 3 months ago

Text

DO YOU REALLY WANT US TO TRY? | Sebastian Vettel

history series main masterlist | requests here!

retired sebastian vettel x wife!reader

word count: 7265

summary: having the day off from the shootings of the documentary they're shooting about their years in formula 1, so seb decides not only to take y/n on a date in new york, but also to try for another baby

warnings: smut: female masturbation, male masturbation, fingering, oral sex (female receiving, male receiving), p in v without protection (wrap it before tap it!). bad language, curse words, translated german. based on january 2023

a/n: (you can read this while listening to maroon by taylor swift bc oh my) this is one of the extra fics i'm gonna be posting of history series! first volume on the series, meeting, will be posted as soon as i finish writing the first chapter so you can enjoy the same day both the intro, the prologue and chapter 1 🔥 feedback and reposts are truly appreciated, and also comments! thank you for all the support lately, you don't know how much it means to me <3

The dawn light, painting the New York sky in pink and orange, began to filter through the windows partially covered by semi-transparent curtains.

You laid peacefully in bed, on your right side, immersed in a light sleep. Your hair sprawled across the pillow, and your breathing was calm, synchronized with the movement of your chest. A faint smile adorned your lips, possibly reflecting a pleasant dream involving you, your husband and your little ones.

Sebastian gradually woke up, his half-asleep eyes first meeting the serene face of you illuminated by the emerging sunlight.

"Good morning, my love," Vettel whispered, trying not to startle you.

You didn't react, still lost in your peaceful nocturnal fantasy. A tender expression crossed the German's face as he leaned gently to kiss your forehead, taking utmost care not to wake you.

Your day in New York held many plans, and all he wanted you was to be as rested as possible.

"Mmm," you murmured, slightly more aware now. "Seb..."

Sebastian's gaze focused on your lips, but he didn't want to overwhelm you. Nevertheless, he couldn't resist, leaving a trail of kisses from your cheek to your jaw, chin, and even focusing on your neck, well aware that such gestures often led to a morning session of intimacy you had enjoyed many times before.

You mumbled sleepily but became a bit more conscious of your surroundings.

"That was nice, but could you let me sleep a bit more, please?" you asked.

Sebastian smiled, settling closer to you, resting his head on the pillow and letting it rest on his right hand, aligning with your level.

"I think it's already time to wake up, love," he said, gently caressing your cheek. "How about you let me wake you up properly?"

You, as if engaged in a playful banter, slowly opened your eyelids. You blinked leisurely, letting your light eyes adjust to the ambient light, a playful smile forming as you realized how close your husband was.

"What do you mean by waking me up properly?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, intrigued and emphasizing the last word.

Sebastian didn't reply. Instead, he leaned in and brushed his lips against yours, initiating a tender and longer kiss than initially intended. Afterward, he focused on every part of your tired face once again.

"Like that."

"Are we playing Disney princesses as if we were with the girls?" You teased, your cheeks turning slightly red. "Am I supposed to be Sleeping Beauty or what?"

Sebastian chuckled sincerely, admiring the innocence with which you, his wife, sometimes spoke due to the games you played mostly with your daughters throughout the day. Since becoming parents, you both knew your were reliving a second childhood, something you particularly loved as you had become the mother you always wanted to be, but you never got to have.

"Something like that, yes," Vettel replied. "Who could resist the incredible task of waking up a princess? Well," he corrected himself, "you’re not a princess anymore as I'm afraid to say you’re my queen."

"I haven't been awake for five minutes and you're already acting like your 2010 self! Yes, don't laugh, Seb! The one who didn't know what to do with his life and how to get rid of all the crap falling on him," you recalled. "And there was quite a lot, especially, and who flirted with every walking female being."

"But you loved him because, thanks to him, you ended up falling in love with me," Sebastian added with sarcasm. "Besides," he continued, "don't act like you've never put a foot wrong in your life. You weren't an angel a year later either."

Before you could retort, Sebastian moved aside the sheets covering him from the waist down to get out of bed. He put on his slippers and, with a mischievous smile, headed to the apartment's kitchen you had rented for your stay in the city.

"What are you doing, Sebastian Vettel?" demanded you to know, trying not to fall back asleep and figuring out what was going on in the man's head.

A playful smile appeared on Sebastian's face as he turned to you. You were watching him with considerable curiosity.

"It's a surprise, sweetheart," he commented, quickly returning to you, planting a kiss on your forehead and covering you a bit more with the sheets.

"You've got me intrigued," you said drowsily, yawning, "so don't take too long, or I'll fall back asleep."

Sebastian returned to the small space, leaving you confused and stretching in bed. Once in the kitchen, the former driver began gathering everything needed for a simple breakfast, given that his culinary skills were not the best but good enough to impress his wife. Soft sounds of utensils and plates clinking filled the air, along with the gradually brewing aroma of coffee, enough to fully awaken you. Nothing delighted you more than the scent of that brown beverage you loved, wafting through your nostrils.

You sat up slowly, leaning against the padded backrest. A few minutes later, you heard footsteps approaching. Sebastian appeared at your bedroom entrance carrying a tray filled with fresh fruits in an unevenly cut bowl, a buttered toast with peach jam, and a cup brimming with coffee, featuring a failed attempt at a heart. Additionally, there was a vase with some dried flowers that Sebastian had secretly bought the day before from a nearby florist.

"What's all this? Are we celebrating something?" you asked, completely impressed by the wonderful wake-up Seb had prepared for you. "Or is there something you want to tell me, and you don't know how?"

He carefully placed the tray on you lap, trying not to spill anything and cause a mess. Sebastian then sat beside you gently, positioning himself close enough to you but giving enough space for you to enjoy breakfast without feeling overwhelmed.

"I just wanted to make something special for the most special woman in my life," the blonde clarified.

"It's surreal that you've done this for me," you admitted. "Are you sure you're not going to ask me for a divorce or anything like that?" you added while taking a piece of bread with your hands and bringing it to your mouth.

"I thought the nonsense of wanting a divorce was a thing of the past," Sebastian replied. "Besides, this is the simplest thing in the world, love. Remember when I taught you to drive?" You nodded, eating slowly. He had given you quite a hard time, although in the end he became your best driving instructor. "Or when you got so obsessed with Moulin Rouge that I threw you a themed birthday party where you were Satine, I was Christian, and we spent the whole night singing after I spent days learning every single song Ewan McGregor sang in the movie?"

"You looked handsome as fuck in that outfit, and everyone had a great time," you said, recalling that day as if it were yesterday. "Although we didn't enjoy it as much when Mick and that girl he dated, Lara, who clearly intended to sleep together, caught us in bed together ."

The German rolled his eyes, trying to forget the scene where he had you sitting on his face, your face down focused on his penis giving him a blowjob, and the ex-couple, wearing only their underwear, entering the same room where you were.

He didn't want to remember that date even if they paid him all the money in the world, or if they even told him that climate change would end.

"Well," you continued, realizing that Sebastian didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Then you tell me what's all this for."

"Since we had the day off today, I wanted to do something special with you," Sebastian explained. "I know we have to get up at five tomorrow because we need to be at the studio around seven, so I didn't plan anything big," he apologized. "Sorry."

"Spill it, don't leave me in suspense," you said, now holding the fruit bowl in one hand and the fork in the other.

"What if we go to Central Park and spend the day there, sweetheart?"

You lifted your gaze from the coffee, surprised by the suggestion. Then, you smiled at her husband.

"Central Park is always a good plan, especially when it's with you,” you replied cheerfully. “I like that it's something calm," you confessed, quite happy. "Mr. and Mrs. Vettel need, every now and then, a bit of calm in their lives."

Even though you hadn't finished eating everything Sebastian had prepared for you, you made a move to get up and get dressed. However, he asked you nicely to sit back down and wait for a moment.

"I have something for you," he declared affectionately, thinking about how you would react to the two surprises he had prepared, especially the first one.

Quickly, with your watchful eyes on him, he approached the built-in wardrobe in one corner of the room and took out a small bag containing an envelope and a small box wrapped in Christmas-themed wrapping paper.

"I know it's not the right time for me to give you this," Sebastian explained, pointing to the box, "but I'm sure you'll love what's inside. I couldn't give it to you with the girls around," he revealed, "or they would want to copy their mother, especially Emily. I still think they are too young for that."

You were puzzled by what the German had just said. As he offered you the box, you took it carefully in your hands. Slowly, you unwrapped it, avoiding tearing the wrapping hastily and removing the pieces of tape one by one, even though excitement was eating you.

Once you removed the wrapping, you saw what appeared to be the back of a toy box. When you turned it around you realized you were right and started screaming and jumping on the bed. Then, you ran towards Seb and gave him a tight hug, one of the ones she loved.

"Oh my God, sunshine. I can't believe it!" you exclaimed, completely thrilled. "I know I'm an adult, a mother with responsibilities," you specified, counting with your fingers, "but you've fulfilled my childhood dream!"

Sebastian laughed at your reaction, something that he was already expecting from you. As you became closer in 2008, you talked about childhood toys and that kind of stuff people usually talk about when they meet. You revealed that you had always wanted a Tamagotchi but, due to your family's economic situation, they couldn't buy you one. Your surprise came when Emily, your eldest daughter, asked for one last Christmas. Since then, he often caught you playing with it whenever your eldest ignored it or got bored of it.

He loved seeing you so excited about something as simple as a gadget with a virtual pet or whatever was inside.

"I thought you'd like to have one for yourself," Seb raised an eyebrow. "Considering how often you take it from your eldest daughter..."

You avoided his comment. Instead, you eagerly tore open the box and, once the device was out, you stopped to examine it in detail, trying not to let it slip from your trembling hands. You felt a rush of emotions running through your body, transporting you back to your childhood, remembering every detail you had experienced with your family and the ones that you didn't have around anymore.

But now you had a new family, your own family, and that was what you clung to in moments when you wondered why almost all your loved ones had somehow left you behind.

"And what's the other thing?"

You discreetly pointed, ignoring your feelings as you stepped away from your husband, to the envelope he held in his hands. You tried to reach it, but it was in vain: Sebastian, even just slightly, was taller than you.

"Oh, this?" he said. "It's nothing. Just tickets to go to the theater to see the Hamilton musical."

You opened your mouth completely in shock.

"And you say it so calm?!" you exclaimed, moving towards your husband again. "You're the most utterly unexpressive person I've ever met in my life, Vettel."

"Go get dressed, come on," he avoided that comment, heading towards the front door, grabbing his jacket, and after putting it on, he took the keys to the residence. "I'm going grocery shopping for the wonderful picnic we're going to have today."

"But what picnic are we going to have if it's winter!" you shouted, somewhat puzzled. "Sebastian Vettel, I swear to God that if I catch a cold and, on top of that, when we come back we give it to the girls, I won't be the one staying home to take care of them!"

He left the apartment laughing, closing the door behind him, leaving you to come up with wild theories about what you were going to do. It seemed you knew him very little.

Did you not know that, for him, a picnic always ended up meaning taking you to eat somewhere quiet in the city?

[...]

After almost two weeks of the History recordings, where you had only worn the most formal clothes possible, from almost gala dresses to uncomfortable pencil skirts that remind you of your days working for Red Bull as a intern and, then, as a race engineer, you could finally wear something you could describe as comfortable.

You had always been used to dressing casually except for the years you worked at Red Bull, where you often felt like you were on a fashion runway. So, for a stroll in the most famous park in New York and even for a night at the theater, you decided to wear slightly tight jeans that easily hugged your curves, hidden under a well-worn oversized sweater from your pregnancies. You left your hair, a bit longer than she was used to in recent years, loose, with its natural waves. You also wore tiny pearl-shaped earrings, your father's watch on your left wrist and white Converse shoes.

For Sebastian, an overshirt and a t-shirt hidden under his jacket, along with pants and Adidas sneakers, were more than enough. He wore that almost always, and no matter how many times you told him that it seemed like that outfit had become his uniform, he refused to change it.

And thank goodness he doesn't wear the famous headband, you criticized in your mind. How embarrassing.

It had been almost three hours since you left your rented apartment and had done quite a few things, although it was nothing extraordinary. First, you walked hand in hand through the park, avoiding athletes and talking about trivial matters. Then, you started feeding ducks in a small pond with a loaf of bread Sebastian had specifically bought for that. You also decided to approach a group of elderly people playing chess to chat with them for a while. Older people were your weakness, and you felt sorry for most of them. You even ended up playing a few games while listening to them talk cheerfully about their lives, sharing some trivial details about yours at the same time.

When you set out for the famous picnic, they decided to call Amelie, your middle sister, to check on your kids. The moment the girl answered the call, the couple could momentarily see the desperation she was feeling:

"I swear tonight has been a disaster," the girl commented in German. "Matilda, at eleven at night, wanted to get into the pool with her Little Mermaid costume to swim and go to the magical kingdom of I don't know what," she expressed angrily, gesturing with her free hand. "Then, Emily wanted to play with your simulator, Seb, and ended up crying because I told her she needed your permission, but you were working and you couldn't give it to her," the mentioned one nodded, gesturing to his sister to continue. "And to top it off, George and Mick ended up falling asleep, leaving me in charge of two little devils."

“And what about aunt Johanna?,” you asked abruptly, leaning closer to the phone. Sebastian could sense your getting nervous, so he quickly took your hand and started caressing it with his thumb.

Amelie sighed, and you even heard a few muttered curses.

"Don't talk to me about your them, Y/N," the girl almost shouted. "They promised me they'd be here around eight, but uncle Hans ended up calling me a few hours later, drunk as a skunk, to tell me they went to a fancy dinner with some of their workmates and couldn't make it home."

"So, you've become the boss of everything, huh?" you commented with humor.

"Sadly."

The family conversation continued. As the minutes passed and you got closer to the place Sebastian had chosen for your meal that day, his parents joined them, having decided to take care of the youngest of the family, your baby boy Carl, while you were out. Michael and Corinna also decided to go to your residence, and with the youngest in her arms, she began explaining to you that he had learned to say a few new words.

"Auto," the baby joyfully exclaimed, while pointing from Schumacher's arms to a photo of Sebastian in his second team that was above the fireplace. "Auto, daddy. Daddy, das Auto ist blau."

That made Sebastian so happy that tears welled up in his eyes, although it didn't last long because you had already reached the door of the restaurant. Soft lights, despite it being midday, illuminated the path to the entrance, which stood out with its wide windows, resembling a glass display, showcasing diners already enjoying their meals.

After hanging up the call with your relatives, you entered and let yourselves be enveloped by the atmosphere. The interior was elegantly decorated, but not overly extravagant. There were plenty of potted plants of all kinds decorating every corner, and you weren't sure if it was that or not, but a very faint scent, like vanilla, seemed to emanate from some unknown place.

A waiter approached you both while you were chatting animatedly about the place.

"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Vettel," the young man interrupted, who should be in his twenties and apparently seemed to be a fan of your husband by his way to behave and, apparently, nervousness. "If you follow me I'll show you the table we've prepared so you can enjoy your meal without interruptions."

Sebastian and you thanked him with a slight nod and proceeded to follow him. You crossed the different sections of the establishment, trying not to attract the attention of any customers, until you reached a more secluded corner from where Central Park could be seen in the distance.

Once seated, the guy who was serving you offered you menus and, immediately, an older woman placed a few appetizers on the table, saying they were on the house.

At that moment, while deciding what to order, you began to dwell on the conversation you had with your youngest sister before starting to record the documentary for the first time. You didn't know how to broach to Seb the subject of getting pregnant again. You were nervous about his possible reaction, yes, but at the same time, you had a good feeling. Your husband was currently dissecting the steak you had ordered, while you dipped a nacho into some guacamole. Trying not to delay it further, you finally spoke while settling into your chair:

"Seb?" you asked to get his attention. "The other day, Lou told me something a bit... strange," you innocently expressed.

Vettel stopped cutting the piece of meat, dropped the utensils onto the plate, and looked at you a bit uneasy, not knowing what you might be referring to.

"What do you mean something a bit strange?" he said, frowning and with a concerned tone. "What did she tell you?"

"She said we could go for one more bun," you emphasized the phrase with a bit of irony. "She also said we should have a second honeymoon or something like that," you crossed her arms, trying not to make a big deal out of it. "You know how my sister is."

And, indeed, Sebastian knew. He already had an idea of where this conversation was going, and if you meant it in a positive way, he was totally on board.

"So... one more bun, huh?" he teased, pretending not to know where the conversation was heading.

"I think Lou was talking about having another baby, love," you bluntly stated.

Sebastian nodded with excitement, knowing that your expression was currently a masterpiece. If you thought he wouldn't catch on to what you were referring to, you were absolutely mistaken. Every time your sister had told him that she'd like to have another nephew, she had done it using that phrase which, though totally absurd, had become an internal joke between them both. Now, you seemed to be a part of it as well.

"I know," Seb finally admitted, not wanting to tease you anymore as you seemed a bit deflated. "And... what do you think?"

You had a thoughtful expression, unsure of what to say. On one hand, you indeed wanted to be a mother for the fourth time, but there were so many things swirling in your head, things that would soon become a reality...

"What are you thinking, Y/N? Wouldn't it excite you us being parents again?"

Sebastian moved his chair closer to the table and took both of your hands while keeping a close eye on you. He could feel you trembling a bit, and it wasn't particularly because of the cold.

"No, it's not that, it's just that... Carl is still a baby... You've just retired, and the only thing you should focus on now is on resting and making up for lost time. I'm starting all this stuff of F1 Academy soon and, on top of that, there's the mess of the documentary we've gotten into," you listed. "I don't feel capable of being a mother again, Seb," she confessed. "It will be overwhelming for us."

The German took your chin and made you look at him. Your gazes met, and your found somehow serenity amidst all the concerns that were overwhelming you at the moment.

"Listen, Y/N," the former driver expressed clearly and calmly. "I'll always be by your side, no matter where I am or what I do, okay?" You nodded, trying to hold back tears. "If you don't think now is the best time to have a baby, I'll wait, and if that time never comes, I'll be more than happy to see our little ones grow up next to you."

"Are you serious?"

"Very serious, Y/N," Seb affirmed once again. "I've always wanted to have a big family with you. You know that for me, the more, the merrier."

You leaned back a bit, surprised by your husband's words. You started reflecting on everything he had said since then, especially the if you don't think now is the best time to have a baby, I'll wait.

Did that mean he might want a fourth child... right?

"Wait, wait, wait," you played with your hands. "What did you say before?"

"I want to have all the babies in the world with you, and I'll wait as long as you need," Sebastian explained again.

Your eyes began to fill with tears of joy, causing confusion for your husband, who began to genuinely worry about you. He hadn't seen you like this for quite some time, and those were not particularly good times.

"Do you really want another baby?" you asked, now crying after you tried holding back tears. "Do you really want us to try?"

"How could I not want it, silly girl?" he rushed to hug you, already knowing what was going through your mind. "I'm willing to do anything you say except to sign divorce papers. So, if you want another mini version of us running around, with the mini versions of us that are no longer so mini running alongside, let's do it."

Your excitement couldn't fit into your body at the moment.

"You're amazing, did you know that?" you expressed, holding onto your husband even tighter.

"Of course," the German laughed, causing you to laugh as well. "I'm just doing what all men should do: be, or at least try to be, everything their girls deserve."

And you knew he was right.

"So...?"

You were nervous about the final answer, although after seeing Sebastian's eyes light up and narrow, revealing the dimples on his cheeks, he didn't need to give you a response: you already knew, and knew your husband too well to understand what was going through his mind at that moment.

"After the musical and dinner I'm going to make you the most beautiful baby in the world. Four kids for us, who have four Formula 1 world championships, is that ok with you?"

[...]

The return trip had created a kind of barrier between you.

You knew what you were going to do, you had talked about it and, especially, it obviously wasn't the first time you had done it. Nevertheless, doubts always plagued you both when it came to conceiving a baby because, after the miscarriage you had in 2016, fear was always present.

Both the musical, from which you had left crying, and the dinner, despite having been caught by paparazzi and fans, to whom you did not deny anything, were great even Britta wasn't with you to help you. The night was young, and for you it had just begun no matter how much you tried to fool yourselves by promising each other that you would go to sleep soon.

As soon as you arrived at the apartment, you shared kisses that were more intimate than normal, and even some friction over your clothes. You were starting to get very horny, but had to calm down even you became more excited at the same time when Seb told you that, after the shower he was going to take, he would give you a lot of love.

Carl was barely two years old, and although Seb bragged about his three girls every time he had the opportunity to, you knew that what your husband wanted most was to have another small version of him running around.

You took off your clothes quickly, not bothering to put them on properly or look at where they ended up being thrown off. You laid down on the bed, wearing only the black lace panties, a courtesy gift from your sister and which had ended up becoming Sebastian's favorites, and you began to lower your left hand very slowly towards your privacy. You took some time for yourself despite how aroused you were by your touch, focusing on you nipples and, little by little, working your way down to your stomach, leaving a trail of caresses that made you very wet, as you could tell. You had had a lot of problems with your body in the past but, now, you felt like a fucking Greek goddess, and you didn't need Seb's compliments to believe it.

Once you reached your pussy, you tried to spend a brief moment exploring it However, you hunger was getting the better of you, and your excitement even more, so you quickly began to give small massages with the slowest speed you could to your clit, which made you let out a slight gasp. You continued to focus on yourself to the point that you had forgotten about Seb, who had already taken his shower and, completely naked from the bathroom door, was admiring the show that you were giving to him.

At the same time that you were increasing the pressure you were exerting on your G-spot, you began massaging your right breast with your non-dominant hand, the right one, focusing first on the areola and gradually moving towards your nipple, limiting yourself to rubbing it with the index finger. The movement of both of your hands, completely in rhythm, made Seb's penis become completely erect and ready to do anything to you.

The German had been the one who had taught you everything about masturbation, no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise.

The man walked towards where you were while massaging his penis. As soon as he arrived and had you in front of him, he climbed onto the bed and lay down next to you, still absorbed in your own pleasure. As soon as he had the chance, Seb took advantage to kiss you fiercely, which was eagerly responded by you. You had already noticed that your husband had joined the party, although not yet actively. As if Vettel had read your thoughts, he began to caress your stomach and, without warning, he inserted his hand into your underwear, wasting no time and getting to work with the bundle of nerves between your legs.

"Fuck, Seb..." you whimpered with pleasure. "You could have warned earlier."

"If I had warned you you wouldn't be moaning three times louder right now than when your hand was in my place," Seb said, moving his finger from your clit to your inside, surprising you. "Remember that no one will ever give you more pleasure than me, Y/N Vettel."

Sebastian wanted to continue in that position. However, he knew they had to finish quickly. In just a few hours you had to be up and getting ready to continue filming the documentary, and it didn't seem particularly right to fuck you all night long even though that was his only desire.

Quickly, the German quickly pulled out of you, what made you let out a cry of frustration at the loss of contact. Instead, Sebastian got off the bed, knelt in front of you and took your thighs, squeezing hard to lower you to the edge of the surface and leave your pussy perfectly aligned with his mouth. You knew perfectly well that, in those moments, the blonde was the one who had control of you, no matter how much you wanted to dominate him. But you were not going to object to it: you loved Seb being in control.

Sex for you, who had been affectionately and sarcastically nicknamed the paddock royalty back in the day, was never boring but actually quite the opposite: it was a box full of surprises in which, in a matter of seconds, Seb could go from being rough and dominant, to be the exact representation of the perfect guy in teenage romantic movies.

The man took time to admire you. You only had your panties left over to be completely naked before him. Quickly, he slowly got rid of them, even though you were putting up some resistance. Then, he opened your legs and held them tightly by your thighs, on which he began to leave kisses, caresses and even the occasional slight bite, alternating between them tortuously.

"Sebastian Vettel, I'm not here to play games," you told him reluctantly, anxious for him to take the next step once and for all. "Either you fuck right now or I'll rub myself against the pillow until I come and the pillowcase ends up soaked."

He stood up, stopping touching your body. It caused, once again, great frustration for you.

"Do you think a bag filled with feathers is going to please you more than me?," Vettel asked curiously, playing with you.

"Seeing that you're acting like a dick, yes," you replied, sitting up and resting on the bed with your forearms.

"Are you sure what you're saying, meine Königin?"

You felt more horny after having heard that nickname. Not even a few milliseconds passed when you had already pushed him to lie down again. Immediately afterwards, with his arms tightly holding your lower extremities, the German was already kneeling again and running his tongue throughout your intimacy without any kind of mercy.

“Fuck, Seb!,” you squealed in surprise, prompting the German to lick faster. "My God..."

Seb was going so fast that your body was constantly rising and falling, your breasts bouncing hard almost in unison with Sebastian's licks. To change the rules of the game, and surprise you once again, he opened your folds widely with one hand and, with the other one, started massaging that button that caused you so much pleasure. Your legs had begun to close due to you being close to the orgasm, and the German could do nothing about it except try to delay the arrival of it. He had seen first-hand that, the longer you took to reach your release, the better it was. For this reason, he decided to slow down the pace of the movements, now replacing them with slower rubbing of your clit fusing it with the penetration of his middle finger.

The screams were getting louder, and Seb noticed how your walls contracted on his finger with increasing frequency and violence. He felt the orgasm close to you, and that was the impulse to add one more finger inside you to the equation, accompanied by the entire surface of his tongue on your nerves. While the two fingers were entering and leaving you, he devoured your pussy with a little bit of difficulty due to the lack of access, but with an incredible hunger. He was excited, and he noticed how the precum began to come out of the tip of his penis. This served no purpose other than to give him more motivation to eat you out as if he hadn't done so in a long time.

He needed to fuck you as soon as possible, but first he needed to please you. You always came first for him in sex, and it had become a ritual that emerged unexpectedly years ago, all thanks to Rosberg.

"I'm about to cum, sunshine," you shouted, hunching your back aggressively and lifting your head as high as you could while you kept pulling hard on your husband's hair. "Let me do something, please... I get on top of you and give you a blowjob while you keep going," you begged. “I’m serious, Seb, don't ignore me. Fuck...!”

Sebastian didn't replied as he was completely absorbed in giving you a good orgasm, because saying the best would be impossible. That position had been earned by those when celebrating your victory in the 2013 World Driver's Championship despite everything that it entailed later.

A few light bites on your clit and the increase in the thrusts, focusing on that point inside you that gave you so much pleasure, were the key to the arrival of your climax as you were holding onto the bed sheets tightly while he writhed wildly.

Seb took some time to take all of your cum and let you calm down because there was still the best part of sex left.

"That was... lovely. Simply lovely."

Vettel sat up, gladly took the remains of your cum and sat down next to you, leaving a chaste kiss on you forehead and, later, on you lips, making you taste yourself.

"I'm the best at my job, what can I say? The best for my girl," he said modestly.

"So..." you commented before the German went on to the next thing and ignoring his words. "Are you going to let me make you feel good or not?"

"No."

A mischievous smile began to form on the man's face. Although he was quite enjoying making you nervous, the truth is that he didn't want that day to focus on him.

If you were going to make a baby, all the attention had to go to you: for that you were the one who would carry it, with everything that entailed, for nine months... more or less.

"Not even a simple blowjob?," you tried to convince him. "Not even a little suck? Come on, Seb."

"Don't insist anymore, really."

"I hope at least that you let your besties do it for me," you approached your husband, taking you breasts and squeezing them while impatiently bringing them closer to his face.

Sebastian laughed, again refusing your insistence.

"Y/N," Vettel began to explain, "I want you to lie down," he gave you a short kiss, "and let me do everything," he took you by your waist and began to lay you down on the bed again. "Let me do all the work, love," he finished saying, standing upon top of you and beginning to rub his member against your intimacy. "Let me remind you that we're gonna make a baby, love, and you already know that in the Vettel's baby factory, children are made with love. Much affection and love."

You hated when your husband became dominant when they had sex and as quickly as possible ended up acting as if he were a prince straight out of Disney movies.

"Yes, whatever you say," you reprimanded. "It's not fair, Seb. I want to make you feel good too."

"It's not fair either that you suffer during pregnancy and I just stand by and watch," that's when you had to agree with him. "You...," he corrected herself, "you all women do everything. We only take part in the fun part."

Again, without letting you say anything else, he began to spread kisses along your neck, sucking on the spots he knew you liked the most. At the same time, he began to rub himself impatiently on the your stomach, masturbating himself so that his erection would not go down even though it was impossible at that point.

"I love when you do that..." you moaned when you noticed how the German's teeth dug lightly into you skin, "although I would like more to have you inside me."

"Patience, Y/N."

Sebastian continued kissing you through your entire neck, and all you could do was making increasingly aggressive gestures as you felt your pleasure increasing. His penis was becoming more and more erect and, as he could tell by touching your inner lips, you were very, very wet again.

"Please, Seb, don't stop," you moaned in desperation when you stopped feeling the German's lips. "I want you to do something else now, please."

"What do you want me to do?"

A mischievous smile appeared on the blonde's face at the possibilities that were going through his mind right now about what he could do with you. He looked at the time on his digital watch, and when he saw that it was almost twenty to one in the morning, something in him changed.

"Do you want to be in control now, Königin?," he commented with a hoarse and serious voice. "Is that what you want?"

“If you know that’s what I want, I don't know why you're asking me then.”

"Well," replied Sebastian, who had already reached the height of excitement, "let's do it my way because you haven't given me a clear answer..."

Before you could say anything else, he gave you another kiss, although this time he showed much more desperation than anyone you had shared earlier that same night.

"Are you going to leave me like that or what?," you said, seeing that your husband was not up to the task of what he had promised you and, therefore, he stepped away from you. "Switch positions with me right now and lie on the fucking bed, Sebastian."

He did as requested, completely surprised by the words you had let out of your mouth even though it was not the first time he had seen you behave that way with him during your intimate moments.

You had many facets, but the one where you had control during sex was secretly his second favorite, followed right after the one of you being the world's best mother.

Once you husband was finally lying down, you desperately grabbed his member and began to move it up and down at the same time as you clumsily pleasured yourself. Within a few seconds you already had it in your mouth, constantly putting it in and out of your lips and masturbating what you couldn't fit due to its length.

"Are you going to let me fuck you now or not?," Sebastian verbalized, trying not to sound desperate.

"You'll fuck me when I decide it, Vettel," you said. "So now you better shut up for a while. Let me continue doing my job or I'm afraid I'll have to stop too."

"Princess..." Seb complained.

You couldn't take it anymore no matter how much you tried to make excuses for yourself and restrain your husband. You hated it when Sebastian begged you: you were tough, and you coped differently depending on the day. Suddenly, and to the German's surprise, you straddled him and aligned you entrance with his member, slowly letting yourself fall just to torture him. Seb responded with loud gasps accompanied by several expletives towards you, which served to excite you even more.

Finally, you lowered yourself completely, letting out a scream as soon as you felt the German's cock completely inside you. At first, you put your hands on Seb's chest, although you quickly moved them to the edge of the headboard when you saw that he wanted to have full access to your breasts, which he began to caress more than with desire, with affection, focusing on the nipples especially, while massaging them together.

You increased the promising rhythm of your hips when you saw Seb getting close to orgasm. Him, to help you, took you by your waist, helping you in that swing that your hips were so accustomed to doing.

"Honey, I'm close," said Sebastian, who was having a hard time to even speak.

This only made you squeeze your insides and increase more, if possible, your speed, even causing you little damage. The German's heartbreaking screams were filling your ears and, as soon as you began to touch yourself to try to reach the orgasm at the same time as Sebastian's, you joined his gasps.

"God, Y/N, there. Yes!"

A few more thrusts were enough for Sebastian to cum inside you, who continued riding him with impetus. Just a minute later, you had also reached the long-awaited second orgasm of the day, without a doubt much better than the first one.

With your legs shaking, carefully got off your husband, who helped you even though he couldn't even handle his own body. You laid down next to him, tangling your legs next to his. Sebastian, as soon as he had you next to him, took you in his arms and began to caress you and kiss you delicately all over your face.

Sleep began to take its toll on your bodies, and as soon as you began to get closer to each other, yawns replaced moans. Despite being aware that you had to get up in less than four hours, you wouldn't change anything that had happened between you moments before.

"I never get tired of kissing you," you commented, sliding your fingers through Sebastian's hair and snuggling with him, "or hugging you, or anything with you. I am very lucky to have you, and I would live again everything we have gone through in this and a thousand other lives just to be with you,” you acknowledged.

"I'm the lucky one, Y/N," he limited to say with honesty as he placed a kiss on your forehead for the umpteenth time that day, "and you'll never know how much."

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platinumshawnn · 2 months ago

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Sometimes (backwood) | jace velaryon x lannister!reader

Synopsis: “I'm forbidden to love you. I'm forbidden to be with you. So, what am I to do if not fall on my knees and beg for you to stay?"

A/N: posting this blurb from a potential wip that might happen soon while I work on my fics hehe

His gaze held yours as he slowly sank to his knees, one at a time until his eyes were levelled with your waist, looking up through dark lashes, his jaw clenching and restlessly grinding his teeth; the muscles in his jaw working as he maintained his silence. You knew it was a difficult task for him to open himself up to you in such a vulnerable way and could only ponder the internal battle currently raging within him between his pride and ego, his shoulders slumping as he let out a breath. You had only ever known Jace as a prideful man, hardened by the loss of his brothers and mother in a bloody war that left him with little to nothing more than memories that you knew haunted him every time he slept, shoving away any shred of vulnerability and locking it away like a traitor to the crown.

The sight of him before you, the light casting a shadow across the right side of his face that only highlighted the strong outline of his cheek and jaw — striking and beautiful, the sight stirred something within you.

“Jace, please…” you softly sighed, your gaze darting over his head towards where the door still remained open a crack. The dim orange glow from the corridor streamed in through the sliver of an opening, certain that if anyone was to pass by in that moment, you would surely be caught — in that case, it would only be a matter of time before your father would be notified and made aware of your whereabouts and what you had been doing. Surely, he would have noticed your absence and begun to question it by now at least, too. You knew he would come sweeping in as soon as he found out should that have been the case, swift in a flurry of red and gold, furious as he dragged you out of the room by your arm — he would grab you by the back of your head, clutching your hair in his fist and leaning close to growl at you about honour and grace. The responsible, dutiful thing would have been to leave right then and there, if only you could have willed your feet to move, but you were held in place by the intensity of his gaze as his right hand lifted to clutch onto the fabric of your dress as it rested against your hip.

“Have you no shame?” You could already hear your father’s voice, thick with disdain.

Your mouth pursed, your hands trembling as you reluctantly found yourself reaching out for him and cupping his cheeks, cradling him between your palms. He seemed to lean into your touch, his shoulders relaxing as he allowed his eyes to flutter shut, “I am completely and utterly yours, in both body and soul,” he quietly muttered, his head turning right to particular find rest in your palm, “I swear my heart to you again, as I did when we were children— it has always been yours…”

“Jacaerys,” you warned, attempting to put an end to the subject with his name coming out as a harsh whisper, “you cannot just go running around, proclaiming such things, do you understand me?”

You could see the subtle twitch of his brows, like he intended to frown but suppressed the urge, his face turning slightly until his lips brushed the palm of your right hand. His silence and disregard for your words caused a wash of anxiety and frustration to bubble up inside you, lapping at the space within your chest like the seas during storm. You attempted to pull his face back towards you, shaking him as his eyes opened finally to look up at you from his inclined position, “Do you hear me?” You repeated, your voice firmer while leaning forward by your waist, “You cannot speak like that. Ever. Do not utter such…such foolish words you do not mean.”

“I do not speak anything I do not mean,” He quietly, his expression unwavering as his eyes darted to scan your face, “when have you ever known me to be anything less than an honest man?”

You stilled, staring at him in sheer panic and desperation for him to take back his words, blinking rapidly. You were horrified by the realization that he was right and there was no sense arguing the fact, letting out a breath as your right thumb brushed across his cheek, your defensive walls coming down just enough that your face softened, “I am to be married to another,” you reminded.

“But you do not have to if you do not wish,” he replied. It startled you how quickly he was to pose the idea, implying that you truly had a choice in the matter, because deep down, you knew that if you said those very words and asked it of him, he would not hesitate to overrule it and object to the marriage. Jace would have it dissolved within a heartbeat, regardless of the potential repercussions it could have and that was almost as terrifying as his confession.

“It is not a matter of what I wish,” you softly said, “you are the king, you hold this very realm together in its fragile state— both you and I know that the realm could not survive another feud created by the crown. Any impulsivity and recklessness—especially now—at the hand of the king would tear it apart.”

You attempted to withdraw your hands, standing upright and beginning to pull away from him. Though the task proved much harder than intended as suddenly his hands caught your wrists and pulled you forward, his eyes showing gut-wrenching despair — the look of a heartbroken boy, reaching out for comfort, "I'm forbidden to love you. I'm forbidden to be with you. So, what am I to do if not fall on my knees and beg for you to stay?" He quietly spoke, “tell me.”

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x you #jace velaryon x you #jace velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon imagine #hotd x you #hotd x reader #reed writes !

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the-s1lly-corner · 10 months ago

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Taking their clothing because you miss them (Creepypasta)

two things: i promise im still working on the eyeless jack x reader fic to celebrate 1k TToTT my steam for writing the fic is just dwindling a little since its very different from my usual posts </3 but i still intend on getting it done! in fact id say its about halfway done, if you dont include proofreading and fixing stuff!! so theres definitely.. something.. i just dont have a time window for it </3 originally i was going to write this with ben/jeff/toby and make it platonic but, i realize this prompt is usually used for romance stuff so theyre gonna sit this post out, ill probably think of another group post soon to make up for it but shrugs getting into the writing i realize i wrote this prompt for some characters a while ago so im going to link those parts in their place

SLENDERMAN:

you take his tie! normally i would say his jacket, but i feel like thats such an obvious choice.. imagine you dont know how to tie it so he walks in on your fumbling with it. trying in vain to get it down... he probably thinks its a little amusing... i mean who wouldnt? kind of just watches you fiddle with it for a minute before making his presence known, likely making you jump. he would much rather you ask than take his clothing, he doesnt have much of it (though is there much need for it, anyway?) (non sexual obviously). probably teaches you how to properly do the tie. his hands absolutely consume yours

SPLENDORMAN:

just ask him and hes going to give you just about any piece of clothing he has on him! i like to think that he lets you have his hat a lot of the times. especially after he walked in on you trying it on.. sure it might be a little too big for you, what with splendor being very tall and thus having a larger head than yours... probably goes on and on about how adorable you look. i mean hes always telling you how cute or pretty you are but it hits different for him when youre wearing something of his. you dont have to ask for his clothing, hes very open to sharing! definitely gets an alternate outfit so he can match with you every now and then

MASKY:

naturally, you steal his jacket! i mean it looks so comfortable, does it not? this isnt an easy feat, by the way. since hes wearing it most of the time, so youre probably going to have to snag it when hes showering or something. quietly stares at you... he DOES think its cute but i do think he would try to get his clothing bad. another jacket similar in style to his mysteriously makes its way into your closet and its also in your size. dont ask where it came from.. he totally didnt steal it..! likely wouldnt want you to take whats his without asking or at least letting him know.. hence him getting your own jacket. wont physically rip it off of you, though, hes not that cold

PUPPETEER:

i think he loves seeing you in his clothing. he thinks you look cute.. but also... pathetic? usually lets you wear his coat or hat if you ask nicely. he already knows youre going to snatch something before you even do it but stays quiet because he thinks its pathetic/adorable, you think youre being so sly but youve already been caught. will tease you for it. a lot. its kind of his own way of getting you to do it again. genuinely thinks its one of the best things in the world. dont admit you do it because you sometimes miss him or like how he smells, its going to do ungodly things to his ego

EJ, LJ, AND HOODIE:

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momhwa-agenda · 1 month ago

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Start of time | Octoberfest Day 7

Pairing - best friend!Younghoon x fem!reader

Drink - Piña Colada with a shot of tequila (aka Friends with benefits & Mirror sex)

Summary - You know how the saying goes. What are friends for if not matching your freak? But when emotions run deep and pleasure becomes more than just a pastime, will Younghoon be the one who proves that sometimes, your best friend really does know you best?

Word Count - 3.8K

Warnings - SMUT (18+ minors DNI!!!), some angst, drunk kissing, sneaking around, Younghoon wears glasses here (yeah that’s a warning), mirror sex, oral (m! and f! receiving), overstimulation, unprotected sex, petnames (“baby”), they’re cute idiots in love, it gets really soft along the way.

Author’s note - I overindulged 🤭 and if you picked up on that here’s a ⭐ for you, beloved hahadksd. The title is indeed from Gabrielle Aplin's song Start of Time, and other than it making me feel fluttery (with Younghoon in mind), it just fit with how the relationship here evolves into something more. Also uhhh yeah reader briefly dates Byeon Wooseok in this fic. Yes, him. Please guys, this is just a fic and it’s not an accurate portrayal of the persons mentioned in this.

Taglist - @daisyvisions @midnightfantasiez @kitschun @snowflakewhispers @jaminthemiddle @nyu-topia

⇀ OctoberFest Masterlist

“Okay, break time,” Younghoon grins, tossing his glasses and pencil onto the table with an exaggerated sigh, stretching his arms overhead as if he'd just finished an impossible marathon. You giggle as you make a break for his room, throwing yourself onto his bed.

The soft thud of the mattress beneath you is soon followed by his weight pressing down, Younghoon laughing as he pounces, settling between your legs. His smile is boyish, mischievous, and your heart skips a beat when his hands cage you in. His breath fans your neck as he leans down, peppering it with light kisses, playful at first, then more lingering.

“Come on, you’ve only got until one o’clock,” you tease, glancing at your phone before your grip tightens on his broad shoulders. “Make the most out of it.”

His eyes darken with intent, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips as his fingers swiftly find the waistband of your sweatpants. There’s no hesitation as he pulls them down in one fluid motion, leaving you bare beneath him.

He leaves a trail of soft, teasing kisses along your inner thigh before his mouth finds your core. His warm breath against you makes you tremble, and a soft gasp escapes your lips as his lips brush over clit. “I intend to,” he murmurs against your skin.

It was months ago, but you remember it as though it was yesterday. The night that changed everything.

You two attended an engagement party together. After some time, Younghoon noticed you weren’t enjoying yourself anymore, so he pulled you away from the crowded room with that charming grin, dragging you out to the garden where the cool night air enveloped you. Both of you were a little tipsy on piña coladas, and everything felt funny.

“This party’s lame,” he joked, the alcohol making his voice a little slurred. You giggled, leaning against one of the wooden posts, the twinkling stars decorating the night sky. You tried your best to enjoy the gathering even just for the lucky couple, but halfway your social battery ran out. So to cope, you ordered something strong.

“You know what would make this night better?” Younghoon had said, a twinkle in his eye. “If we made out.” He sounded like he was joking, but when you turned to him, his face just inches away from yours, the air between you had shifted.

His smirk faded slightly as you stared into his eyes, and then, with a slight bite to your lower lip, you replied, “Well, what are you waiting for?” The words came out sultry, your own confidence surprising you, fueled by the buzz of alcohol and curiosity.

The kiss that followed wasn’t what you expected. It was electrifying. At first you both leaned in, it was like testing the waters with just a feather light kiss. But when in those short seconds, he crashed his lips against yours, hungry for another taste, while his hands cupped your face with a possessive kind of tenderness. It wasn’t a joke anymore, the heat between you was undeniable. His taste was intoxicating, a mix of alcohol and something purely Younghoon.

“You taste like tequila,” you giggled after pulling back to catch your breath.

“Tequila?” He smiles, his fingers tracing your jaw. “How would you know that?"

“I don’t know…guess I have a superhuman tongue,” you snicker.

“Huh. I didn’t get a taste of that let me try again” He pulls you back in for another kiss, but this one is messier. His tongue delving into your mouth, exploring and tasting with newfound intensity.

Things quickly escalated after that kiss. The next morning, both you and Younghoon tried to brush it off, blaming the alcohol and the romantic atmosphere of the engagement party. Only to resolve it with a kiss that proceeded to become a messy makeout session at your apartment. When you untangled yourselves from each other in your bed, it became clear that the sexual tension between you was undeniable. From that point on, the two of you agreed to stay friends—with the added bonus of becoming “fuck buddies.”

At first, it was meant to be casual, something to pass the time, and satisfy both your sexual itches, but it soon turned into something far more addicting.

So addictive, in fact, that even in the middle of family gatherings or hangouts with friends, you’d exchange heated glances, your touches lingering just a bit too long under the table. Once, when you wore a sleeveless top, Younghoon tried to keep his composure, but the brush of your arm against his sent a surge of desire through him. He sighed, a futile attempt to control the growing arousal simmering beneath his calm exterior.

Then came the stolen moments—quickies behind closed doors while your relatives were just rooms away.

“Are you serious?” His eyes were wide with shock, though excitement flickered just beneath the surface.

“I'm really horny right now, and they haven’t left the house in hours,” you whispered, your lips grazing his ear, your words sending a shiver down his spine. “So we have to be quick.”

His mouth quirked into that familiar smirk. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem for you.”

You narrowed your eyes, heat pooling between you. “I’m about to suck you off, Younghoon, so watch your tone.” The teasing edge in your voice made him groan, anticipation flooding the space between you. Your tongue dragged slowly from the base of his length to the tip, savoring the moment, savoring him.

You debated with yourself several times why you kind of felt attached to Younghoon, because ever since this became an official thing, the prospect of seeing other people bored you. What was the point of putting yourself out there and meeting someone new, even for just a casual hookup, when you had your best friend taking care of those needs?

It gnawed at you, that creeping sense of attachment. Younghoon had unintentionally ruined other men for you. He was goofy, sweet, and maddeningly attractive. He knew your body, knew how to make you feel good without any of the pressure or awkwardness that usually accompanied hookups. When things didn’t go as planned—whether it was a mishap in position or one of you finishing too soon—you just laughed it off, teasing each other, finding your rhythm again.

Even your little bickering sessions had a playful edge, a tension that only made things sexier.

And then, there was his body. You couldn't deny it—Younghoon was unbelievably hot. Just looking at his fingers, his chest, and his thighs, you often felt this animalistic need to make him crumble. Make him feel good the same way he did with you. Every casual encounter had stripped away your inhibitions, pulling out parts of you that you never showed anyone else. Things you were too nervous to share with other men because, unlike Younghoon, they might not have understood. They wouldn’t have accepted you like he did.

But then, months later everything changed. You met someone new—Wooseok. And as promised, once either of you began dating someone else, the arrangement between you and Younghoon had to come to an end.

You and Younghoon were still friends, of course, but there was a lingering tension, an emptiness that neither of you could ignore. He told himself it wasn’t that serious, and your friendship came first, which meant putting your happiness first. But he couldn’t shake how much he missed you. He tried to fill the void you’d left behind—reliving the memories of you, the way you looked with his length in your mouth, the way you rode him, the sounds you made—but no matter how vivid the images in his mind, it wasn’t the same. He couldn’t even finish, the hollow sensation of your absence overwhelming him.

Months passed. You were away with Wooseok, accompanying him on a modeling shoot, while Younghoon tried to focus on work. He kept busy, but everything felt dull without you.

Just as he clocked out one evening, his phone buzzed. Your name lit up the screen, and his heart leapt at the thought of hearing your voice again. But the moment he answered, his heart dropped upon hearing the tremble in your tone.

“Younghoon, I need help…c-can you please come over? Please?” Your voice was shaky, fragile, and it stirred something deep inside him.

Younghoon didn’t hesitate. Following the address you gave him, he rushed to the hotel, his heart racing with worry. The second you opened the door, your face crumpled, and you collapsed into his arms, your tears soaking into his shirt as he held you tightly. His arms wrapped around you, grounding you as your sobs shook your body.

Younghoon shut the door behind him, his voice tense with concern. “Where’s Wooseok? Did he do something to you? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, unable to meet his gaze as you struggled to find the words. “No…he didn’t do anything. And that’s the problem.” Your voice cracked, embarrassment flooding your cheeks as you wiped at the tears.

Younghoon pulled back just enough to look at you, his brows knitting in confusion. “What do you mean? He just left you?”

You nodded, wiping at your tear-streaked face, but it felt useless. The pain of rejection was written all over your expression. “He broke up with me. We were gonna…I prepared something for him, and then he…” With each word your heart feels heavy, recounting what happened. “He said I have a problem.”

“No, no, stop—” Younghoon’s hands were gentle as he cupped your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “Don’t say that. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

You shook your head, pulling away slightly. “But it’s the way he looked at me, Younghoon…he made me feel like I was disgusting, like I was wrong for wanting him like that.”

Younghoon’s jaw clenched, a storm brewing in his dark eyes. He pulled you closer, wrapping you in his warmth. “That asshole.” His voice was low, full of restrained anger. “He could’ve handled that so much better. You’re not disgusting, Y/N. You’re exciting, funny, beautiful…everything anyone could ever want.”

“You’re just saying that, Hoon. I’m a sex addict, I get it.”

“No, listen to me,” Younghoon's voice softened, but there was a quiet desperation beneath it, as though he couldn’t bear for you to believe that. “You deserve better. Maybe he wasn’t ready for you, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.” He took your face in his hands, his gaze piercing through your shame. “You deserve someone who sees how incredible you are...someone who can love you for everything you are. He couldn’t handle that, and that’s his loss.”

He hesitates for a moment, his breath catching as he tries to say more. “You deserve love, Y/N... the kind that never makes you feel ashamed of what you need.” His words lingered, the unspoken promise hanging in the air, thick with meaning.

The weight of his reassurance washed over you, like a balm soothing the ache deep inside your chest. For the first time that night, you could breathe again, but your heart pounded with something else now—a realization creeping in. Younghoon’s words, his warmth, his unwavering presence... it all crashed over you, the truth that had been building for so long finally breaking through.

Without thinking, you kissed him, desperately pressing your lips to his, trying to convey the words that wouldn’t come out: I don’t trust anyone else. Only you got me. The kiss was raw, intense, as if you were trying to pour all your unsaid feelings into it.

“Hoon…” you whisper against his lips, yearning for him to make the pain go away.

“Shh,” he places a finger against your lips before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You don’t need to say it. I’ll take care of you.”

The world outside faded as Younghoon carried you to the bed. There was no urgency in his movements, no sense of rush. His touch was gentle as he laid you down and brushed the hair from your face. His fingers grazed your skin as he undressed you, slowly, reverently, as though every inch of you was sacred to him.

He kissed you softly, then deeply, pouring everything into that kiss—his comfort, his care, his love. You knew it wasn’t about filling the void Wooseok had left. It was about something more. Something that had been there all along, quietly building between you and Younghoon. Fuck, you just realized how much you missed him.

Younghoon pauses, his gaze drifting upward as he takes in the room's setup, finally noticing the mirrors on the ceiling.

“Huh,” he smiles a little as he returns to brush a soft kiss against your lips.

“What?” you ask, frowning slightly at the look on his face.

“Nothing it’s just" he plays with your hair “Just remembering how you once mentioned wanting to try mirror sex. Looks like tonight’s your chance to make it memorable.” His tone is playful but loving.

You pull him back to your lips, tugging at his clothes, your hips pressing up against him, in need of his touch. For that same electric feeling only Younghoon knew how to give you. He chuckles softly, amused by how eager you are.

“Let’s slow down,” he whispered against your lips “All this time, we’ve been rushing into it…I just want to pace myself with you.”

You blink up at him, your breath hitching at the tenderness in his eyes. “Going slow sounds good.”

The intensity in his stare sends a shiver down your spine, making your breath hitch just before his lips find yours again. He trails soft, lingering kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, and lower, until his mouth meets your breasts. His lips move slowly, savoring each kiss as though he’s drawing out every bit of your pleasure, setting your nerves alight.

His hands slide over your waist, his touch both gentle and possessive. As his teeth graze your inner thigh, a gasp escapes your lips, and his eyes lock with yours. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” His voice is a low, reverent rumble, full of awe, as if he’s seeing you like this for the first time. Now that you’re watching him you realize how different this feels. How it’s always rushed when you two fuck.

As he runs his tongue between your folds, you whimper. The way he was hitting that sweet spot of yours, but teasingly just so he could prolong your pleasure. You start to feel like you might cry from how good it felt. The fact that it’s been a long time since you felt Younghoon eat you out sounded like a crime. As if it was illegal that you two have been kept apart this long.

“Younghoon…please” you moan “I want…”

He hums against your skin, his lips brushing your clit, sucking your juices. His gaze then flicks up to meet yours as he murmurs, “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want to ride you. Now,” you breathe out, your words filled with longing.

He shifts, moving you so you’re both lying on your sides facing each other, his body pressed against yours. His length slides teasingly up and down against your soaked core, and both of you moan at the contact. Younghoon grips your hips, the tension in his body palpable as he rubs against you, his restraint only heightening the anticipation.

“You don’t know how much I missed you,” he whispers, his breath hot against your neck, his lips finding your skin as he presses soft, desperate kisses there.

Slowly, he enters you, his movements measured, deliberate. His eyes flicker to the mirror, where the reflections of your bodies entwined are an intoxicating sight. “I want you to see what I see,” he groans in your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “See how perfect you are…see how we fit together.”

Your body responds instinctively, arching into him, the pleasure building with each deep, steady thrust. You look at your reflection, entranced by the way Younghoon moves, his body a picture of strength and control. It clicks for you—how he always fucked you with purpose, giving you his all. Now you see him in his element, in a way that feels raw and intimate. And my god, he looked fucking amazing.

The mirror reflects your ecstasy, amplifying the sight of his body pressed against yours, his movements becoming just a bit faster, hitting that spot that makes your breath hitch and his name fall from your lips.

“Fuck…how could he not want you” he growls, his voice low and full of disbelief as his thrusts slow, becoming sloppier. “He doesn’t know how special you are. How sensual you are.” His words are a mix of frustration and admiration, his eyes clouded with longing.

You wrap your arms around him, your nails digging into his shoulders. With a pull, you bring him above you, your body shifting so he can take you from a new angle—one that gives you the perfect view of his back as he moves, filling you completely.

“I know you more than he does. I can-fuck…” he growls in your ear, his breath ragged as he increases his pace. “I can love you better.”

His words are enough to pull you to the edge until your body trembles, the orgasm hitting you so hard you cry out into his chest. In the haze of your high, you tug at his hair, kissing his neck, collarbone, and chest, every inch of his skin you can reach, showing that you love him.

Younghoon’s hands trail gently down your back, his touch lingering as he shifts you into a new position with you on top of him. His gaze is intense, his voice husky as he tells you, “Use me all you want, Y/N. Let go of everything with me.”

You bite your lip as you slide his cock back inside you. The sensation sends a shiver through your body. The moment he fills you again, you throw your head back, pleasure rippling through you as your hands steady themselves on his strong thighs. His fingers trace the curve of your breast before gently teasing your nipple, his touch sending sparks of desire down your spine.

You glance at the mirror again, and despite the lingering aftershocks of your last high, the sight of the two of you—intertwined, bodies moving in perfect sync—ignites something deeper inside you.

“There…look at yourself,” Younghoon moans, his voice breathless as his hands grip your hips, guiding your movements. “See how gorgeous you are.” His words send a rush of heat through you, amplifying your arousal.

It’s intoxicating to watch yourself ride him. The way your body moves, the raw passion reflected in the mirror, showing how free and unguarded you are with him. Here, with Younghoon, you can be yourself completely, and it’s perfect. The way he watches you, his dark eyes full of desire and admiration, only drives you further.

“S-shit…Y/N, I’m close,” Younghoon groans, his voice strained, his hands gripping tighter. His muscles tense beneath you, and you can feel him struggling to hold back.

You meet his gaze, a smirk tugging at your lips as you begin to move faster, bouncing faster on his length, determined to push him to the edge. But as your pace quickens, you feel yourself tightening around him, your body responding to the rising pleasure, the intensity building once more.

“Then come with me,” you moan, your voice breathless, full of need.

The look in your eyes, the sight of your sweat-slicked skin, the way you’re driving yourself toward release with him inside you—it’s all too much. Younghoon’s control snaps. The tension that had been building in his body breaks, and with a guttural moan, he spills himself inside you, the sensation triggering your own release. The room fills with both your moans, your bodies trembling together as you ride out the waves of your shared climax.

You feel almost drunk with the intensity of it all, the pleasure lingering as you continue to move together, riding out every last bit of your release. Finally, with your body spent and your breathing heavy, you collapse onto his chest, both of you lost in the afterglow.

The two of you lie in the aftermath, your head resting on his chest, the soft thrum of his heartbeat lulling you into a state of peace. His hand lazily traces patterns along your waist, while your fingers absentmindedly play with the strands of his hair.

The silence is warm, comforting, but you feel a shift in the air. This time feels different—it’s not just about the sex. It’s the way he’s looking at you, with something deeper than lust.

“I…I don’t think I’m forgetting that anytime soon,” you finally say, breaking the silence. His chest rumbles with a soft laugh as he kisses your forehead.

“I’m glad to hear my performance was more than you expected,” he teases, the humor in his voice making you smile, but there’s a softness behind it—like he’s been waiting for this moment, for something more than just the physical.

You prop yourself up, resting on your forearms against his chest, your eyes meeting his. The words are on the tip of your tongue, a confession you’ve been too scared to say, but you can’t hold back anymore.

“You always have.” You bite your lip, trying to play it off lightly, but your voice betrays you. “What if this could be a permanent thing, Younghoon. I like being with you…and I hope we can keep seeing each other. More than just friends.”

Younghoon’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across your skin. He pulls you into a tender kiss, slow and full of emotion, and when he pulls back, there’s a radiant smile on his face. He’s overjoyed, eyes shining with a happiness he can’t hide.

“Took us long enough," he murmurs, his voice soft, full of warmth. You can feel the love in every word, in the way he’s looking at you as if he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life.

He presses another kiss to your lips before saying, “Mark your calendar, Y/N, 'cause I’m taking you out on a proper date. No sneaking around, no quickies…just you and me.”

You chuckle softly, relaxing into his embrace, the weight of unspoken feelings finally lifted.

“We better not be having piña coladas again,” you tease, recalling the beginning of this whole arrangement with a smile.

Younghoon grins down at you, his eyes twinkling with fondness. “Well that wouldn’t be so bad. But we’re going back to the beginning” he says, his voice tender, full of meaning. “Before that night. Before we complicated things. A new start, just you and me.”

#🍸— octoberfest #younghoon #kim younghoon #younghoon smut #younghoon x reader #tbz #the boyz #the boyz smut #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #the boyz imagines #the boyz fanfic #tbz fanfic #kim younghoon x reader #tbz smut #younghoon imagines #momhwa writes

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fawnprincessblog · 2 months ago

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Hi everyone, guess who's back.

After 2 months of absence i've decided to bring myself back on here and explain some things that have happened.

💗

After publishing a post a while back regarding incest, i had recieved a lot of hate since then. When i posted it I had no idea how much hate I was bound to receive from all of you once you guys saw it, and honestly i didn't think it would get that much attention. After realising it was clearly causing so much hate I posted an apology, which all you also thought was total shit, so I deleted that too.

And right after, I was bombarded with an ungodly amount of death threats through my inbox, people asking me to kill myself and end it. It was a whole lot, and I really didn't think that one measly post would set you guys off so fast. And honestly I was surprised to see how much there was. My inbox was full of them, and I couldn't handle it all.

Soon enough as expected one person had gone anonymous, sending inbox messages to my followers to report the 'heinous crime' I've committed by posting one silly thing, which by the way, put out a lot of false information. The person was over exaggerating, putting shitty words in my mouth. And I'm here now to talk about all the accusations the person has made. To the people who recieved the inbox message, here's your real explanation from the blogger who made the damn posts.

1. I 'nonchalantly' wrote twincest about Tom and Bill.

First of all, I have never in my life intended to ship the damn twins. If you have checked tumblr well enough, you should be aware there's tons of threesome sex fics about Tom and Bill, where they both fucked the reader at once. And if you fucking bothered to read my fic properly and not jump to conclusions to try so damn hard and cancel me, you'd know damn well Tom and Bill never even touched eachother in the fic that I wrote. They didn't have sex with eachother, they didn't DIRTY TALK eachother, and they did NOT do anything that would have come across as incest.

They both simply fucked the reader and talked to the reader, having nothing to do with each other in the fic. Get your damn facts right b4 you try to sound like a fucking smartass.

2. I want to be 'chained up and used.'

Kinks and fantasies everyone, c'mon. People have FUCKING KINKS. And mind you, this is tumblr. If you srsly see shit like this and start acting out because it makes you sad then clearly it's not for you so like just scroll? You have a damn finger, don't you? Unless, y'know, you cut the damn thing off.

Anyway, I think it's pathetic you're acting all petty over it cause you wanna cancel someone so bad and be the fucking hero of the day. Nobody cares, cunt.

3. I wanted to 'abuse' Bill.

To clarify this one, I do agree that the term 'abuse' was too strong. I don't intend to fucking abuse the poor guy, I just had no idea how to fucking word my sentence and how I was trying to get the damn message out. I've already edited my post on this one. So, chill out.

4. I'm 'anti-lgbt'?

This shitty one has been going around a LOT ever since I posted something regarding how annoying Bill was in the Kaulitz & Kaulitz series, where he talked alot about his sexuality.

First of all I'm not fucking homophobic. To let you guys know I am a Catholic Christian, (ik, not a very holy one) and supporting the lgbt community is definitely not on the list. And even if so, I do not disrespect anyone who's part of it. We aren't told to treat you guys any less. And for me, although I never encouraged the idea, I don't look lower on the person. Even I myself catch myself in a 'lesbian-feeling' situation sometimes.

And if you've seen the comments on the post I made about that Bill thing, all the comments agree with my anyway. We all collectively agree he went a little overboard but so what? I'm just saying. Suck on that, stupid hoe!

5. I support pedophilia.

Babe, check the post again and see how many people were totally okay with the damn post in the first place. I have never agreed ever that pedophilia was okay, and there's tons of older Tom fics with this age gap. Please, istg, do your research before crying over spilled milk to save yourself the embarrassment.

And, to let y'know, who ever sent these inbox messages, one of the friends that you sent these to—I think her name was 'pain of l0ve' or smtg—was totally one of the biggest supporters on that post asking for a full blown fic of older tom and the 17 year old girl. She uses to be my follower too. Dw, I have a screenshot before she blocked me and tried to act all shocked and surprised that I post those malicious things you said! ^^

mm...that really pissed me off ngl 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, that concludes it. Hope this answers your questions about all this misinformation that this person has spread in attempt to cancel me.

I also just want to put it out there that I'm really sorry for posting something like that, and now looking at it I do agree that it was weird. I apologise for anyone who got uncomfortable. All the death threats I've received weren't necessary though. I don't ever think it's right to go that far on anyone. Please be mindful sometimes. Other than that, I'm really sorry.

And I also wanna thank @itsangelll for being there for me when I couldn't answer all the haters myself. Girl you really helped me out, standing up for me and explaining the situation. Ilysm always 💗💗

But for the cunt that sent out all the inbox messages, I hope you had fun doing so anyways :3 I really do appreciate all the stalking and effort you put in just for me so you could cancel me and be heard! 🥺 Seriously the hero of the day! You really read through all my stuff so you could dig out the littlest things! Talk about dedication!! Quite obsessed I must say.

Kisses, love ya! 💋💋💗

#tokio hotel #love #boyfriend #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz #smut #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x reader

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blueariel3-blog · 1 year ago

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Only Her

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

A/N: Hello! This is the first fic I'm posting so let me know if you like it! I had so much fun writing it and I always have ideas in my head for stories, so I thought it was time I finally posted one lol.

The autumn breeze was chilling to the bone once you had been exposed to it. No amount of thick sweaters, fluffy scarves, or wool gloves could keep the bite out once the cold really settled in. Tom blew a warm breath into his hands ( as warm as he could manage in the current weather) and cursed the skies. He would not be trekking through this treacherous weather if it weren’t for the bubbly girl skipping in front of him.

She had asked him to accompany her to Hogsmeade this weekend and no matter how hard he tried to find the cold, unappealing mask he had perfectly molded, he knew there was no way he could turn her down. She was his opposite in every aspect and as much as it didn’t make sense, it also did.

He tried to keep his usual schemes far away from her innocent ears, though she was not oblivious to his extracurricular activities. He supposed one of the things he enjoyed most is that she never judged him or tried to talk him out of his plans. She simply took him for what he was and loved every part of him.

“Oh Tom, look! The snowflakes are so pretty!” She beamed as she caught one in her hand, shoving it toward the grumpy boy following behind her. He merely grimaced and attempted to at least look half-interested. She continued admiring the puffs of feather-light ice, paying no attention to what was in front of her, trusting her boyfriend to watch out for her completely.

Tom sometimes wondered how different things would be had she not been assigned his partner in charms and been forced to attend several study sessions together. If she hadn’t insisted on working together as much as possible and making sure their assignments had no errors, would he be further along in his plans?

He had been delaying releasing the basilisk for months out of fear for her. Only her, no one else he cared enough about to even consider their well-being. His closest friends had taken his distraction as an excuse to delay plans and stop attending meetings altogether. He knew he needed to make a move soon, but he also knew he could postpone it a little longer.

“You ought to be careful, the bridge is frozen and you could easily slip.” Despite the lack of warmth in his tone, his message was well-intended and he knew she understood that. She simply giggled and held out her hand to him, allowing his large hands to encompass her small ones and keep her balanced.

Although he sometimes found it tedious to always make sure She was in safe hands, he also secretly adored it. Sometimes he got tired of the constant anger and despise in his head, the blood on his hands, the nagging feeling of never being enough, and simply let thoughts of her overwhelm him.

“Look, the Three Broomsticks has their lights on!” Tom reigned in the urge to tell her that they always had their lights on, instead letting her indulge in the simplistic fun. She tugged him along hastily through the crowded streets and burst through the old wooden doors. Tom snarled at those who dared looked their way and lead the girl in his arms to the farthest table in the back.

He was not embarrassed to be seen with her by any means. However, he absolutely despised the nasty looks she received for being with him. It wasn’t his own feelings he was concerned with; hers, on the other hand, were as delicate as a blooming flower. Tom sometimes wondered if it was the mean comments or the prospect of being humiliated that made the tears roll down her porcelain face.

“What would you two like to drink?” Tom eyed the man who had come to take their order. He was tall and lanky, probably a graduate from last year or the one before who couldn’t find anything better to do with his time than smoke and drink. She batted her eyelashes and ordered two butter beers, unaware of the blush now coating the snob's cheeks.

She never meant to flirt, she was just a charismatic being. Tom never reprimanded her for it and never pointed it out, not wanting her to lose the joyous nature about herself for the sake of others’ stupidity.

“So, heard anything good lately?” Tome whipped his head back to her and narrowed his eyes. She loved to gossip.

“I heard Walburga and Orion are engaged.” He had come to enjoy passing secrets with her. Only her.

“They are not!’ She gasped. Tom nodded his head and smirked. “Are they not cousins?”

“Well, yes, but the pureblood families tend to interbreed anyways. Their children will probably bear all sorts of problems.” She giggled and slapped a hand over her mouth, tho the tint to her cheeks never left.

He caught himself almost smiling but quickly scowled as the man set their drinks down in front of them. He gave her an extra long pause, telling her to call out if she needed anything, and slowly walked away from the table.

She took a long sip of her drink, sighing happily and looking at Tom expectantly. Truth be told, he hated the damn drink. But he indulged her in tasting it every time and then letting her have the rest. He always ended up dragging her back to the castle by the end of the day but he couldn’t deny her this simple pleasure.

He grasped the glass and took a slow sip, swishing the amber liquid around in his mouth before swallowing. Tom hated the grime that coated his teeth every time he drank something sugary and made a mental note to brush his teeth as soon as he returned to his dorm.

Once her drink was gone and Tom had taken three nanoscopic sips of his, she downed his as well. A glassy film covered her eyes and she began laughing uncontrollably, doubling over and clutching her stomach as the drink coursed through her.

A rough hand on his shoulder brought Tom out of his watchful stare. Abraxas Malfoy stood next to him, a sort of excitement in his eyes as he beheld the giggling girl in front of him. Tom shook his disgusting hand off his shoulder and raised his eyebrows at his right-hand man.

“Hello, you two! Well, don’t you look as lovely as ever!” She giggled again.

“Why thank you, Abraxas!”

“I was actually referring to our good friend Tommy here, but you look lovely as well.” A smirk adorned Abraxas face as she laughed even harder. If Abraxas had not been one of his most trusted followers then he would have obliviated him. He still might.

“He does look quite lovely.” Tom simply rolled his eyes and motioned for the blonde boy to tell him whatever it was he interrupted their night for.

“I just came to wish you both a good night and check-in.” The glint in his eyes told a different story and Tom almost pulled him into the alleyway to explain. But that would mean leaving her alone, and that was something he would never do.

“Thank you, Abraxas. Oh! Are you excited about the quidditch game tomorrow?” Although she came from the yellow house, she adorned a different color for every game. She just liked to witness the excitement of someone winning.

“I am, I hope you’ll be in green and black tomorrow?” He gave her a lazy grin as she nodded her head eagerly. She would not remember agreeing to that tomorrow and Abraxas would have quite the time teasing her when he sees her decked in blue instead.

“Darling, did you want to go to the bookstore before the end of the night?” The light was dimming outside, but the shops were far from closing. With darkness came cold though, and Tom would not have her out in weather worse than this.

“Oh, of course! I thought we could pick up a few to read before bed?” Abraxas snickered but quickly stopped once he saw the sharp look Tom diverted at him. Instead of answering, he simply shrugged his coat on and offered her a hand. He made sure her scarf was wrapped tight around her neck and her coat buttoned properly to seal in any remaining warmth.

He held her hand tightly and led her down the snowy street. The small bookstore came into view and he quickly pulled them in to fight off the cold, leading her down to the section she adored the most.

Tom watched as her fingers skimmed the old parchments as she lazily looked for a few to bring home. He felt bad the first few times they came because he couldn’t afford to buy her what she wanted, but she insisted she had enough money for the both of them. After many disagreements (they never argued because he couldn’t stand to make her upset), he finally accepted that she would buy them and he would read them to her.

“I want this one, please.” Tom grabbed the rather thin book off the shelf and held it out for her to tuck in her arms.

“Just one darling? We’ll go through that pretty quickly, maybe you should pick another one as well.” She hummed in agreement and pointed to three more books. He rolled his eyes humorously and pulled them from the shelf.

With the books in hand, she set them on the counter and bounced on her toes as the clerk rang them up. She handed them the payment and Tom took the wrapped parcels along with her hand and made for the door.

The walk back to the castle always felt longer, though he knew it wasn’t. Perhaps it was the impending time to sit by the fire with her curled into his side or the way her scent would wash over him and lull him to sleep. It could have been the sleep-filled nights he only seemed to find wrapped around her or the quiet the castle offered only at night.

“Tom?” He hummed and turned to her. She had a contemplative look on her face.

“Do you think you’ll ever get tired of me?” He stopped in his tracks, pulling her back when she attempted to carry on walking. His heart beat a thousand times faster than normal and if he thought about her words too long, he was sure it would beat out of his chest.

He carefully placed one hand under her chin, tilting those glassy eyes to look directly into his. His sharp features made him intimidating to most people, but she was never afraid of the death that could shine in his eyes.

“Why are you asking me that darling? Has someone said something?” Merlin forbid someone else had made her think this way. They would be dead within the hour.

She shook her head quickly, long strands of hair falling in her eyes. She pushed them back with one hand and huffed, looking at the ground while she played with his fingers.

“No, I was just thinking. I know I’m very different from you and your friends, and sometimes I just wonder…well…if I’m too different.”

Tom would do anything to wipe the sorrow from her voice. He forced himself to take steadying breaths. The wrapped books thumped against the snow-packed ground as he freed both of his hands to grasp either side of her face.

“Darling, I will not get tired of you. I enjoy the differences between us. I know I am not capable of the extent of feelings you have for me, but one day I hope to learn to feel those things.” He placed one of her hands against his beating heart, letting her feel how tilted his world had suddenly become.

“Are you sure?” She batted those long, beautiful eyelashes up at him.

“I am quite sure.” She nodded once, the smile taking on her face again as if she hadn’t just torn his world apart and put it back together in the span of two minutes. She grabbed the books from the ground and tucked them under one arm, wrapping the other around his and pulling him quickly towards the castle.

There was no one else he would ever consider confessing his feelings for, good or bad. No one else could destroy him if they ever decided they were tired of him. No one else held his heart as she did. Only her. Only ever her.

#tom riddle #hufflepuff #harry potter #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fans #hufflepuff!reader #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x fem!reader

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vickiee-mcmuffin · 6 months ago

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The wedding day

Word count: 2k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Fluff

Summary: The day has arrived for you to marry the love of your life after your presence at Kamar Taj had changed him for the better.

A/N: Hi all, I'm here to maybe post some more of my favourite old fics (If you want me to). I haven't tagged anyone as I've lost my tag list. Sorry.

It was hard not to think about everything the two of you had been through on such a day. Your heart was racing in the best way possible, and your tummy was filled with an endless supply of butterflies. The buzz in the air was electric, and it just made you want to fast forward time, made you want to skip ahead so you could just stand before him already and be his. Be his wife.

But you had to wait. And that was okay, because you knew by the end of the day, you would be his wife. You would be Mrs Strange. And that would absolutely be worth the wait.

You were alone in your dressing room, far too jittery to have a conversation with anyone at that point. You had always been like that. Shy, reserved, and mostly innocent. Sometimes you considered it to be a flaw, but you grew to realise that some just found it endearing.

Stephen didn’t at first. At least he pretended like he didn’t.

You smiled at the thought of him, eyeing the twinkle in your gaze in the mirror. He was going to be all yours soon. And you were going to be all his. You truly couldn’t wait, and you wondered what he was up to, if he was just as nervous as you were.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you couldn’t help but reminisce. Your first kiss, your first date, your first time. There was so much to think about. One thing that really stuck out at that point was the first time he had ever laid eyes on you…

To say you were a nervous wreck was an understatement. There was so much that could go wrong, and all you wanted to do was impress and do a good job. But the look on his face was far too menacing for you to calm down.

Stephen looked at you with what you could only describe as a glare. Was he mad at you? If so, you weren’t quite sure what you had done to garner that reaction. You couldn’t deny that he was handsome. He was older, and had a sophisticated edge to him that guys your age just didn’t have.

“Are you sure you’re meant to be here?” he asked you, right in the middle of your first day of training – after a blunt, hasty introduction.

You stared at him, not saying anything at first. Was he talking to you?

“Well?” he snapped. “Are you sure you’re meant to be here?”

“Oh, um, yes,” you nodded, feeling your face grow hot. “I’m meant to be here.”

“You don’t seem like you’ll be prepared for what’s supposed to happen today.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you frowned.

“You’re all wide eyes,” he shrugged casually. “Like a deer caught in headlights. You seem scared.”

“I’m not,” you tried not to pout. You were scared, but you didn’t want him to know that. “You don’t even know me. You’re being really rude to someone you just met, you know?”

Stephen didn’t even hide his scoff. “Just stay out of my way while I’m here, okay?”

With that, he spun on his heels and walked away from you with quick, confident strides. You stood there, mouth open, trying to comprehend what had just happened. All you knew was that you were going to listen to him, because you very much intended to stay away from him.

You couldn’t help but laugh as the memory filled up your mind. Stephen had been rude. There was no denying it. But he had surprisingly warmed up to you quickly after that…

Sometimes you liked nothing more than sitting on your own – especially after training. It was a good chance to think about how it had gone: what you were happy with, what you needed to improve on.

And just as you were about to get lost in your thoughts, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You looked over your shoulder and spotted Stephen staring down at you.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice a little shy. You still weren’t all that used to Stephen. And his presence was especially intimidating to someone as shy and quiet as you.

“You were good today,” he said lowly.

You blushed instantly. You had known Stephen for just over a month now, and that was the first time he had ever given you a compliment.

“Really?” you asked.

“Really,” he nodded slowly. “Nice job.”

“You were really good too. You should be proud. I’ve honestly been learning a lot by just looking at you.”

Stephen stared at you for a moment. Like he wasn’t quite sure how to react to that. He mumbled something to himself – something you couldn’t hear. And with that, he walked away. It was a simple conversation. But it was enough to make you let out a happy sigh.

As you came back to reality you bit into your bottom lip. Stephen had been so cold towards you at first, but when he had softened just slightly, just for a moment, you knew there was a whole different side to him… And that was something you discovered not too long after that moment…

You were just about to head off to dinner when you saw him.

Stephen was leaning up against a wall, his eyes all dark. Until they landed on you. You could have sworn you saw a hint of light in them as he looked at you. You blushed and found the courage to give him a wave, and that was when he sent you a nod. And a smile.

A small gesture to some, but to you, it meant Stephen was changing.

It was the next morning when you saw the biggest change, though. It was once again a small gesture, but it was a gesture that made your heart flutter. You and Stephen were both headed towards the same door, and you wondered who would go first. For a second you considered slowing down and letting Stephen just go. And he did get to the door before you.

But then he waited.

Waited for you to approach him.

And then he held open the door for you, allowing you to enter first.

“After you,” he murmured, his eyes stuck on yours.

“Thank you,” you squeaked, brushing past him with a racing heart. Your skin was bright red and you prayed he couldn’t tell. “You’re so polite.”

He chuckled lowly at your compliment.

You didn’t get to see him for the rest of the day. It wasn’t until later, when you were sitting by yourself, lost in your thoughts, that you met his gaze. He sat next to you without asking, but you didn’t mind. Despite how you two first met and how he had treated you, you had still grown to like him more than you should have.

“You seem to be getting better and better every day with your training,” he told you.

“I like to think so,” you smiled at him.

He just stared at you for a while, his eyes never leaving your smile, like he saw something only he could see. Butterflies filled your tummy and you cleared your throat. The noise seemed to bring Stephen out of his daze.

“I was wondering if I could ask you something, Y/N,” he said a little seriously.

You nodded enthusiastically. “Of course!”

He smiled at you before looking down at his lap for a second. Like he was nervous. That was odd, because he almost always seemed so confident, so sure of himself.

“I was wondering… I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner with me,” he finally said.

“Dinner?” you repeated, tilting your head at him. “Do you mean like…”

“A date? Yes… Yes, I do mean a date.”

It took you just a second to nod at him, the smile on your face quickly growing. You weren’t expecting that at all, but it was something you had fantasised about. You were over the moon that Stephen looked at you in that way.

“I’d love that. Really,” you whispered.

Stephen seemed to let out a shaky breath at that, like he was anticipating a negative response from you. “Is tonight okay? Maybe around seven.”

“Tonight is perfect.”

Coming back to reality, you thought about how sweet Stephen was when he was nervous. And he wasn’t nervous very often. But around you? Around you he changed. He could talk to anybody else and be outspoken and confident. But that encounter showed you a different side of Stephen. A softer side. One you wanted to see more of, and you had that night…

“You look beautiful,” was the first thing Stephen said to you.

You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and blushed. “Thanks. You too.”

“Are you ready for tonight? I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“I’m ready. And I’ve been excited about it too. I’m honestly a little shocked that you asked me… I thought you didn’t like me,” you told him with a soft laugh.

“I admit I judged you the first time I saw you. I suppose I didn’t know how to react to you. But… But you’re so kind. So welcoming. So sweet. I see that all so clearly now. I’m just sad I didn’t see it sooner, because I think being around you has certainly changed me,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours as he spoke.

And you couldn’t help yourself when you leaned forward; giving him a soft, slow, sweet kiss. You were just aching for him, and he was right there, looking so handsome all dressed up. It was a dream come true to feel him up against you, his hands on your waist as he kissed you back.

“Don’t be sad,” you murmured against his lips. “I’m here now with you. And you’re here with me. That’s all that matters.”

You could have cried thinking about that moment. But there was no time. There was a knock on the door, and you spotted a bridesmaid waving at you. It was time to go.

You sucked in a sharp breath, nerves taking over as you made your way to the main part of the church. It was a big rush there with people chattering away, but soon, the double doors to the ceremony room opened up. Your bridesmaids moved in first, and then it was your turn.

With one last deep breath, you took your first step towards him. Stephen stood at the end of the aisle with his hands clasped together and his eyes stuck on you. Even from where you were standing you could see him let out a shaky breath. You moved slowly, the pink bouquet in your hands, not stopping until you stood before him. The second you handed your flowers to your maid of honour you felt Stephen’s hands on yours. He held them tight, his thumbs rubbing at your skin as he looked on at you with tear filled eyes. The sight of him made your own eyes water.

“I love you,” he whispered so lowly that only you could hear. “And I promise that I will love you for the rest of my life.”

Your world stopped at that moment, but in the best way possible. Everything seemed to freeze as you captured the scene before you: the smile on Stephen’s face, his kind eyes, the way his cheeks flushed that little bit of red. Your heart skipped a beat and you fought the urge to kiss him.

He had changed so much for you, and you knew it was for the better. Because he was yours and you were his, and it was the most special thing in the world to you.

“And I love you,” you said with a teary smile. Despite the large crowd, Stephen was the only one you could focus on, and he would be all you would focus on for the rest of your life.

You were more than happy with that fact.

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rainbow-pop-arts · 4 months ago

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By Your Side

Kurapika x Little Sister! Reader

Summary: You've been in the woods for days after running away from your village that was attacked, but luckily, your big brother finally finds you!

A/n: Hiii, so I don't intend to be a writer here (I mainly post art), but this fic's just something I wanna try out! ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

It was getting dark again. She hasn’t eaten and drunk anything for days, but she couldn’t bring herself to move from where she was. What if they find her?

It was so sudden, a group of people arrived at the village and started attacking. The adults tried fighting back but……

Her parents told her to runaway as far as possible. She stood back up every time she tripped, not caring about the scrapes she got. She stopped at a secret spot where she would read books with her brother and their friend….Pairo.

She sat there, hugging the doll her father made, wearing the hat her mother knitted, and little scrapes covering her small limbs.

She wished her brother was with her.

“Y/n!”

She looked up, it was her brother, Kurapika. He had a worried look on his eyes and was panting from running. She immediately got engulfed in his hug and he said how relieved he was to know that she was safe, away from the village’s tragedy.

~~~

“Y/n, we’re here.”

On her brother’s back, she awoke to his gentle voice. Kurapika stood in front of a door to an inn that he said he was staying in temporarily. He carefully set her down to unlock the door.

~~~

The girl sat in the warm water-filled bath tub with her knees held close to her chest. Her brother gently washed her hair, it reminded him of back then.

Whenever Y/n gets dirty after playing outside, sometimes he would help bathe her. They sung songs and splashed water at eachother. They sometimes would take baths together too. But those happy times were gone.

After she dried up and put on clothes, Kurapika made toasts with fried eggs on top and prepared cups of water. Y/n finally ate after days being in the forest. She devoured the bread quickly that her brother got worried.

“Hey, slow down! You’re gonna-”

Cough cough

She choked on the food. Kurapika immediately went to her side to rub her back and giving her water.

“Y/n, don’t go eat food quickly like that…”

Her coughs died down.

“You haven’t eaten anything for days, have you?”

She nodded, shaking and whimpering.

“Hey, it’s alright. Just eat the food slowly, okay?”

~~~

The girl immediately fell asleep after finishing her meal. Her brother carried her to bed and tucked her in, he’s relieved to see his sister finally sleeping comfortably. How long has she stayed in the forest all alone? How long has she stayed awake to stay alert, to run away if the people who attacked the village finds her?

Kurapika went to grab the used tableware and looked at the items on the table that Y/n had with her when he found her. A doll made by their father and a hat knitted by their mother. They were both gifts for her 7th birthday. With both of them gone, those were the things that they had left of them.

~~~

After he did the dishes, Kurapika went to the bedroom but as soon as he stepped in, he heard soft sobs. Y/n was tossing and turning in her sleep. He realized she was a having a nightmare, so he went on the bed and held his sister close.

“Shh…shh…it’s okay, your big brother’s here.”

Her sobs slowly became quiet and soon stopped. She returned to sleep peacefully, this time clinging to Kurapika.

Being the only Kurtas left, Kurapika had to be the one to care for Y/n. He’d make sure she eats well, he’d make sure to teach her things, he’d make sure to protect her.

“Don’t worry, Y/n. I’ll be by your side.”

A/n: To be honest, this was actually a fic of my OC who's Kurapika's little sister (please check my art of her out ( •̀ ᎑ - )), but I edited it to be an x reader here.

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh x reader #kurapika #hxh fanfic #kurapika x reader #sibling reader #platonic #platonic x reader #fanfic #fem reader #female reader #sister reader

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gomapda · 6 months ago

Text

sidewalks we crossed [side B: him.] (pt. 1)

this is broken into parts because tumblr has a limit of 1000 blocks.

side A found here!

author's note:

oh goodness. it's been a while.

i really did intend on posting this soon after i published the first part, but then life kind of got in the way. i graduated from grad school, moved to south korea, and have been here since. i'm still a carat, and i really do think about this fanfiction all the time, mainly because this story is truly me bearing my soul to the internet and my friends who have access to the original google doc.

this one is a lot less edited and looked over, but it's because this portion of the fic reminds me of something i'm still in deep grief for. so, for those of you who will read this, i was originally going to have a third installment, but i think i'll leave it at this two. it feels good and true to leave it here.

this was supposed to be published yesterday on seventeen's anni, but i was busy spending time with my korean host family who i've not been able to see that often since moving out :')

maybe i'll write short stories including these two because they are so special to me, but this main story has come to a close. the real final push was jihoon releasing "what kind of future?" officially, the very song that inspired this fic, in honor of his beautiful friend and human, moonbin. bin-ah, i hope you're sailing among the stars and looking over all of those who love you and who you love in return.

and to you, who may be reading this, thank you for being here.

✧⋆°｡☾☼꙳ ੭ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ‧ ⨯ ς(>‿<.). ⁺ ✦ * . ˚ ⨯ ੭ * ‧☼☽⋆｡°✧

tagging @fiantomartell since you asked me to whenever i published this. it's been a long while, but.

pairing: lee jihoon/woozi (seventeen) x f!reader

genre: romance, fluff

summary: an accidental like, an off-chance comment, a purposeful message. you were in an unrequited love with your childhood best friend and decided to run away from him and your feelings and years later you find yourself in the same city with the same feelings when he stalks your instagram.

rating: 13+

length: 30k (bro WHAT LOL)

tags: idol!jihoon, childhood friend!reader, unrequited love (but not really), reconnection through instagram, this is just different scenes pieced together (including a ton of flashbacks), reader’s nicknames are all bug-themed, reader has depression and it manifests as suicidal ideation sometimes, this is basically real life (aka seventeen exists and debuted 150526), but the years are a little bit off for the trainee period, jihoon left busan later and trained for shorter for the sake of my story hehe, cursing, pining, mamamoo + ateez are the besties of reader, member x member pairings, jihoon and reader are both dumbasses, reader is extremely book smart but has one brain cell when it comes to romantic feelings, jihoon writes music like he’s been divorced 12x, word genius lee jihoon, idk how doctoral degrees work, i only got my masters and it was a non-thesis track lol, also idk how trainee auditions work either, miss communication is a lady we all know too well, super cute soft shit too tho tbh, no beta we die like men, i spent 5 hours trying to format this for tumblr and i’m still unsure

inspired by “drivers license” by olivia rodrigo and “what kind of future?” by woozi

inspo spotify playlist found here!

──────────────────

side b: him.

The rapid beating in his chest drowned out the slam of the door behind him as he rushed down the stairs of your home, desperate to just get away as soon as possible. Your parents weren’t home, so he didn’t have to worry about looking like an absolute fool in front of them.

You knew. You fucking knew.

You knew how much he was in love with you and this was your way of rejecting him.

He was stupid, so stupid. If he just put his feelings aside then you wouldn’t leave. You wouldn’t have to leave. But this was all his stupid hormones and brain chemistry and his fucking heart. He knew that it wouldn’t pan out. You never saw him as anything more than just a dear friend, a brother. You made that clear.

Since the beginning, your pinkies intertwined promised a forever, but you both had different ideas of what that was. And he was stupid to believe there was a chance.

He ran.

He ran so far and so hard that he couldn’t make sense of left or right or forward or backward. All he knew was that he needed to get away from you.

But he couldn’t.

He passed by Old Man Park’s home with a winding tree you were convinced held fae people that would only come out when the entire town was asleep (there was a 50km radius, you said).

He ran by the rusted bars of the playground you two snuck off to instead of going to cram school where you attempted a flip and promptly landed on the crown of your head, wood chips tangling themselves into your hair, tears mixed with laughter and pain streaming down your cheeks.

The library where you would spend more time in the children’s section than anywhere else because you would practice your ‘reading voice’ for your future children’s bedtime stories.

The baseball field where the realization that he was in love with you hit him harder than any fastball pitch ever could.

You were everywhere.

And he needed to get away.

He went to your house to share the news of passing the trainee audition, that was the whole purpose of seeing you.

However, that wasn’t the only thing he planned on confessing.

If you asked him to stay, he would have.

But instead, you rejected him before he even got one word out.

So, he packed his bags up for Seoul, a place untarnished by you. A city that not even your light could reach, no matter how radiant you were.

──────────────────

Years later.

“Jihoon-ah, aren’t you working too hard?”

He glanced up at Jeonghan who was probably let into the studio by Bumzu. Jihoon glanced at the clock to notice a bright 4:02am glaring back at him. “Ah, hyung. I didn’t even notice the time.”

“I figured. I brought you some food.”

Jihoon glanced down at the two bags in his hands. His eyes narrowed. “Hyung, I don’t eat as much as you think I do.”

“I’ve seen you eat three full meals in one sitting. Get away from your desk and we can eat.”

Jihoon sighed before he reluctantly left the seat he hardly moved from for over seven hours. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Jeonghan replied happily, snapping the wooden chopsticks into two. He started chewing on one of the danmuji, the sound of its crunch reverberating in the studio. “Oh. And also, the wi-fi’s down at the dorm, so.”

“So, you’re here to steal my bandwidth.”

“I brought you food. I paid my toll.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “Alright, sure.”

“So, are you in the composing stage or the writing lyrics stage?”

“...Lyrics.”

“Hm. What are you writing about? Or rather, who are you writing about?”

Jihoon stabbed the grilled fish. “...You know who.”

“She’s really got a grip on you, huh.”

Jihoon grunted in response. Obviously.

Jeonghan continued, “I saw that one of the local newsletters interviewed the group home that she volunteers at. She was voted as volunteer of the year. Again. She smiles with her entire body. Seems like a good person.”

The younger of the two picked away at the fish, not bringing it onto his makeshift plate. “Yeah.”

“Do you still stalk her on Instagram?”

Jihoon let out a loud sigh.

“That’s a yes, then.”

“You know it’s not as bad as it used to be. I used to check, like, every few weeks, but now it’s gone down to just a couple times a year.”

“She hasn’t blocked you yet?”

“Hah. I don’t think she even knows that my account is reactivated.”

“Well, you never needed to reactivate before. Her Instagram used to be public. The rest of the members and I used to scroll through wondering how a bright girl like her could be associated with such a deadpan guy like you.”

“Wow. Thanks, hyung.”

Jeonghan merely brushed off Jihoon’s sarcasm, already used to it. “She only made it private this last year, right? Since she complains about her program being out to kill her on her story. To be honest, I’m surprised she didn’t realize you’ve been watching her stories.”

“I don’t think she checks who watches her story since she has over a few thousand followers.”

“She attracts people, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, she always has.”

“Can I see her profile again?”

“You’re not going to do something weird, right?”

“Ey, Jihoon-ah.”

“That makes me really not want to.”

“Ey.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes before pulling out his phone. He opened Instagram and clicked on the “Search” feature and saw your profile appear at the top without even needing to type anything. He signaled for Jeonghan to scoot down the couch so he could sit down and handle the phone in his own hands. Jeonghan peered over his shoulder as he scrolled through your profile.

“Oh, is that Japan?”

“Yeah.”

Jihoon clicked on your post.

But it wasn’t opening.

So, he clicked again. And then again.

And his phone decided to catch up with his thumb’s movements.

The once white heart was now red.

His grip loosened on the device of betrayal and it clattered to the ground. “Oh shit.”

Jeonghan bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. He placed his hand on Jihoon’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. “I’m sorry, but. This is karma for not letting me see her profile on my own.”

“Hyung. Hyung. What should I do?”

“Just unlike it? I’m pretty sure that Instagram doesn’t send a notification as long as you unlike it before she sees it.”

“How do you know?”

Jeonghan shrugged. “Jihoon. It’s not the end of the world if she happens to see it. If she blocks you, then you know, and you end up writing another heartbreak masterpiece—” Jihoon couldn’t even appreciate the comment. “—but. Who knows what’ll happen?”

“...”

“Uh. I’ll just… do it for you, then.”

Jeonghan picked up the phone, facing the screen towards Jihoon, the camera scanning his frozen features to unlock and Jeonghan tapped the red heart to empty it again. He placed the phone back on the younger man’s thigh, but Jihoon remained in the same position as earlier, eyes glazed.

“Jihoon-ah.”

“Hyung.”

“Let’s just wait, yeah? The food’s getting cold. So, let’s finish eating.”

“...Okay.”

──────────────────

Jihoon picked at the rice bowl in front of him, his mind light years away, chest filled with concern for the future. Was auditioning for a company worth it? Even if he started the process now, wouldn’t it still take a while to even hear back?

“Jihoonie.”

His heart constricted once he heard the voice of the person who made him unsure. He caught you blinking owlishly at him. “Y/N.”

“Hrmm. You seem quite a bit down, my friend. You’ve barely touched your first bowl of rice. It’s concerning.”

“Just thinking.”

“Oh, don’t do that. We know that usually ends badly for people.”

“Well, someone between the two of us has to have brain cells.”

“I pride myself in simultaneously never thinking and also being the top student of our school.”

“You work miracles, Y/N.”

“Hey, now I know you’re down because you didn’t call me a flipping nerd. Your best moods are usually accompanied by your worst words.”

“You make me seem like an asshole. You slander me to other people, don’t you?”

“Of course. I can’t have them know just how utterly wonderful and fantastic you are. I’d rather you have that butthole reputation if I get to keep my best friend all to myself. I’m a selfish lady, you know.”

Did you even know how much your words affected him?

“You’re neither selfish nor a lady.”

“Oh, but I am. I’m a selfish lady who’s only checking on you because I refuse to be wrought with worry for the rest of the day. So, come on, Jihoonie. Let’s go play darts.”

“Last time we played you almost stabbed my hand.”

“Your fault for reaching for the board when I was about to own you. Come on. Let’s go. I’ll make a pinky promise with you.”

Jihoon snorted. “Of what?”

“I promise to do whatever you want if you win.”

Jihoon scrunched up his nose in response. You were always so naive with him, trusting him wholly. But a part of him was grateful that you did. He merely sighed and stood up.

He might as well use your promise to his advantage.

──────────────────

“She didn’t block me.”

“Oh, really?” Jeonghan glanced up at Jihoon who suddenly broke the silence.

“Who’s she?” Soonyoung’s ears perked up.

“You know. His firefly,” Jeonghan replied.

“What? Why would she block you?” Seungkwan directed his question at Jihoon, who was simply trying to edit lyrics in his own studio, which was being occupied by several SEVENTEEN members.

“Jihoon accidentally liked one of her posts last night, but we unliked it. Oh, sorry. I unliked it because he was completely frozen.”

“The notification probably didn’t go through,” Seungkwan supplied. “I’m pretty sure unliking a post makes the notification go away.”

Jihoon had set his phone aside earlier in hopes of not constantly checking it. His mind may be unsteady, but he was always self-disciplined.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Soonyoung glance down at his own phone screen that buzzed a second prior.

“Oh. Jihoon-ah, she liked one of your posts.”

Before his mind could even catch up, Jihoon flung himself to his phone, his self-discipline be damned. He frantically clicked on the notification and it redirected him to his Instagram page, where he saw your name among the list of likers. He wasn’t sure whether his heart was racing or whether it stopped completely because the buzzing in his ears overtook all of his other senses.

He even ignored the boys’ laughter around him.

“Is… Is social media actually facilitating real connection right now? Are we about to prove all of the ahjussi and ahjumma wrong? Are we about to witness history?”

“Seungkwan-ah.”

“Sorry, Jeonghan-hyung.”

“She… She didn’t block me. She saw me. What is this? What do I do? Do I just ignore it? Or should I let her know I saw it?”

Soonyoung snorted. “Yah, I’ve never seen Jihoon this nervous for any performance ever.”

“His heart’s probably racing more than it did the Golden Disc Awards.”

“WHAT DO I DO.”

“Jihoon-hyung,” Seungkwan started. “I think the first thing you need to do is breathe.”

So, he did. In. Out. In. Out.

After what seemed like years, Soonyoung spoke up. “So… Are you gonna message her?”

Jihoon sat in contemplation for a moment before he decidedly shook his head. “No. It’s time to write a song.”

Soonyoung’s eyebrows rose at that. “You’re gonna go back to work after all of this?”

Jihoon bit his lip. “No. This is gonna be a solo song.”

The corners of Jeonghan’s lips curled up at his dongsaeng. “I’m sure it’ll be beautiful.”

Jihoon nodded almost mindlessly.

Everything about her usually is.

──────────────────

“Jihoonie~ Wake up~”

He groaned loudly under the bed covers.

He heard you snicker, the only warning before you landed with a loud thump as he let out an “oof!” from beneath you.

“Get off me. You weigh like a million pounds.”

Rather than listening, you spread your limbs and trapped the adolescent boy beneath you, nuzzling further into the outer casing of his cocoon. “Nope. Just yesterday you yelled at me for not eating enough when you flung me off of the couch by accident because I stole the remote. So.”

“I’m suffocating. You’re killing your best friend.”

“Oh, but to die with a beautiful girl on top of you, isn’t that the way to go?”

There was a moment of silence where Jihoon contemplated catapulting your entire being off of his bed before, “Pretty sure that’s your dream, you damn pervert,” came his muffled reply.

“Huh. You might be right there.”

“Get! Off!”

His hand easily found your weak point between your first and second rib and you cried out as you toppled down onto his bedroom floor. He emerged from the confines of his sheets with hair sticking up every which way.

You grinned lazily up at his disheveled state and he glared right back at you. “Why are you in my bedroom?”

“Because your mom said to come and get you! We’re going to Muju today, remember? In time for the Firefly Festival!”

“Right. It’s your yearly family reunion.”

“Yes, I will become one with the bugs. My fursona will arise again. Or is it bugsona?”

“Is a buggy better than a furry?”

“You’re asking me to choose between two evils, my dear Jihoonie. Come on, get up. I’m excited to spend an entire weekend with our family.”

It was way too early for his mind to whirr as fast as it did at the simple implication of ‘our’. “Alright, firefly. Get out of my room so I can get ready.”

“Okay! I’ll go help Mama downstairs.”

You were committed to calling Jihoon’s mom as Mama instead of Eomma, as the latter held a tone for you that was nothing less than stressful.

Jihoon smiled at your joy, but stopped when he noticed you freeze in place. “...What?”

You shifted the weight in your feet before speaking. “Mm. Just had a thought. With a smile like yours, who would ever need the summertime?”

You grinned at him while his heart stopped. You always spoke without a care in the world; never carefully crafting your thoughts before speaking them aloud. You were spontaneous. Wild, even. Sometimes it ended with you in some kind of trouble, while other times, like this one, ended with him in trouble instead.

You scurried out of his room before he could respond.

He released a dragged out sigh as he felt his cheeks warm.

Forget summertime.

He wondered whether the earth could be sustained through all of the seasons at the sheer brilliance of your smile.

But he ought to thank the summertime.

Because it meant, every year, without fail, he would wake up to you, he would smell the breakfast you helped his mother cook, he would hop on a plane to travel to a different province and see the night sky alight with hundreds of fireflies, your face aglow with soft awe and wonder.

Yeah.

He needed the summertime.

──────────────────

“What? Jihoon-hyung is talking to the girl that just upped and left him and fled the country?”

“Chan-ah, your wording needs work,” Seungcheol chastised. The other members that were near enough to hear nodded, while others were distracted by their own activities.

Jihoon buried his face in his hands. “Eugh, I don’t even know anymore. It’s not like we’re actually talking; she just reliked one of my posts. It’s like, she went back and let me know that she saw me. But is that supposed to be a warning? Is it supposed to be a white flag?”

The youngest member of SEVENTEEN shrugged. “Hyung, I think that you’re putting a lot of meaning behind something that was just a small gesture.”

“Nah, Chan,” Seungcheol interjected. “Jihoon has been in love with this girl since he was a kid. This is more than just a small gesture, after what she did to him.”

Wonwoo spoke up. “Hey, don’t forget Jihoon was the one who left Busan first.”

The accused groaned.

“Wonwoo, you’re just biased towards her because you think that she and Jihoon would make a good couple and you believe in an ideal love.”

“Hyung, I just think that if Jihoon can write what he writes about her, there’s something there.”

“You romanticist.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Jihoon-ah, I think you’ve tried to reach her with your words time and time again, but maybe it was never made clear that she was the one it was for. You mentioned that she really thought you were in love with your noona—” Jihoon grimaced at the memory. “—so, maybe she’s just unaware.”

“She can’t be that oblivious,” Soonyoung interrupted. Jihoon knew Soonyoung was almost fiercely protective over him because he was the one who witnessed Jihoon’s aftermath firsthand. Soonyoung may be over-the-top some days, but whenever Jihoon needed it, he would help ground him.

Wonwoo’s eyes flicked between the two of his fellow 96ers. “We were all kids once, Soonyoung. We were all so focused on ourselves we couldn’t really see what was happening around us.”

Soonyoung pursed his lips. “...I guess. Jihoon, what do you think?”

Jihoon stared at his hands. “Does it matter whether she knew back then or not?”

They all collectively raised a brow.

“Whattaya mean?” Seungcheol asked.

“I can make a ton of assumptions about her. That she was actually in love with me and was scared. That she was rejecting me in her own cruel, yet kind, way. That she had no idea and the timing was just completely off. But all of that, I don’t actually know. All I do know is that… I want to see her. And not just from afar anymore. But part of me also hates her. But all of me misses her. I don’t know. I guess I’m just too stupid to figure this out.”

A heavy silence passed over the group.

Soonyoung broke it. “If you’re stupid, then I’m the biggest idiot on this planet.”

“That’s not comforting, that’s just a fact.”

“Hoon, you wound me.”

──────────────────

Award shows were weird.

At first, everything was an out-of-body experience for him and could barely process what was happening. He even couldn’t believe that he and his twelve members managed to earn their matching pinky rings and the right to produce and perform, let alone be nominated for an award. When they went on the stage, they did their best to be as refreshing of idols as they could be.

But it was much more daunting than they were used to.

Their debut year went by, and although there were many nominations, they remained only that.

In middle school, he would often tell you that you had a strange fixation on being number one in your graduating class. He said that he didn’t get it, that being in the top 5 was already something that was admirable.

He would never forget the look you gave him when you said, “One day, you’ll know what it’s like. You’ll know what it’s like to almost have something and then not. It’s the kind of feeling that eats away at you, Jihoon. The feeling of, ‘But what if I did more?’”

He merely rolled his eyes and called you dramatic.

That is, until he experienced it firsthand.

The first time ever was when he was doing a music competition for clarinet and compared himself to his bandmate, who received several achievements while Jihoon found that he simply didn’t have the body to be able to hold the same lung capacity.

Then he felt it: that driving force.

You both pushed yourselves further, to higher heights.

And it ended with him sick and bedridden.

And you, heartbroken and unsure of life.

The two of you would reprimand each other for trying too hard, but even with accountability, that envy, that desire for an indisputable win, that fear of failure, would still sneak its way into you both. You, with your academics. Him, with his musical endeavors.

For several years after their debut, at award shows, Jihoon would clap, the rhythmic beating of his hands echoing that in his chest, his smile lined with bitterness, his ears rang with the whispered voices.

‘Those people didn’t deserve it. You worked so much harder. These people don’t even produce their own music. Or maybe it’s because they have real producers and composers, unlike you. Who are you to think you deserve that award?’

One night, after another show of no wins, he collapsed onto his bed, unlocking his phone, intent on watching an anime episode before falling asleep. His members were discouraged and no one wanted to discuss what more they could even do.

Even if they did everything right, maybe it still would never be good enough.

When he opened up the YouTube app on his phone, he saw a recommended video. Your name written out in English caught his eye and he realized it was Part II of a podcast you had done with the channel before. It was a Korean-American podcast and you would share your experiences in the Korean language, connecting with your culture despite being in a foreign country.

Before he could think about what he was doing, he clicked on it, hoping to find comfort in a person he always had, in someone he probably always would.

Several minutes in and he realized just how thick that red string must be between the two of you.

“You know, I thought I undid a lot of my perfectionism before coming to college. Korea is the birthplace of comparison and pressure, I’m sure of it. It was ingrained into me from childhood. So, I did what I could. I got out. Learned to broaden my horizons. But when you attend a school like Yale, your environment really just kinda forces you to be perfect just so that you can survive. Because if you’re not, then you’re cut.”

He thought back to his trainee days.

To his current days.

How similar.

“I remember being at an event where we were being presented awards for our achievements. I remember that I was in the running for one of them, and I won’t say which one so this doesn’t come back to bite me. But at this one event, I remember no other guests were invited, only the nominees and peers in the same field. And when they announced the winner, everyone applauded, of course. However, I won’t ever forget the sight that I saw.”

You chewed on your lips, gazing upward trying to find the right words to say, a habit you’ve had for years.

“The winner had the biggest grin on their face, proud of themselves, as they are allowed to be. But when they turned back to the crowd? I think they saw something. I think they saw that our smiles were forced, that we were judging them, judging ourselves, trying to determine whether they actually deserved the recognition or whether we should have been the ones to win. And… their smile faltered. It was quick, but it was noticeable. And I think the only reason why it even faltered was because it was only those of us who were nominated or could have been. Like, it’s easy to cheer on someone for a prize that you didn’t want, but as soon as you have stakes in the game? Well. That’s a whole different story. But when they lost that smile, it felt like something shattered.”

Your eyes welled up with tears, but they didn’t fall.

“They say it’s lonely at the top. I haven’t been there in a long time, but. I don’t even know if that’s where I want to be. These people have done super cool things, and who’s to say that I would’ve gotten the same results if I had tried? And maybe, maybe they have enough competitors. Maybe they need someone who celebrates them. Someone who knows the hardships of working in this field. And maybe that’s what I can do. I just want to do what I love and what I love doing is social work. Celebrating other people. Learning their stories. Not saving the world, but trying to make it into one that might be worth saving. If I happen to get recognized because of doing those things and they give some kind of trophy for it, then alright. But that’s just a byproduct of the greatest award I’ve already given myself, which is just letting myself do what I love.”

And those were words he carried with him as he went to bed that night.

When they won their first award. Their first Bonsang. Their first Daesang.

Award shows were weird.

It was all about performance.

Performing on stage, prepped through sound-check, clean-cut choreography, and pre-recorded live vocals to grab the audience’s attention.

Performing when at their designated table, giving reactions at a timely rate for both the fancams and large screen cameras.

Performing when behind the stage, being the best hoobae or sunbae they needed to be, adapting to whatever situation they may be placed in.

He knew how to perform. He was good at it.

It was why he’s in this industry.

But there are some things that don’t warrant worrying about an audience.

As he watched the seven members of BTS walk towards the stage, reaching for their Daesang. He clapped to match the rhythm in his chest, sure and steady, at ease. His smile, genuine and wide. The voice in his head, not unlike yours mixed with his own, provided gentle comfort.

‘They deserved it. They worked hard, just like you did. Their ability to collaborate with other musicians is astounding. It would be an honor to work with them. And you, too, have won, you’ve given yourself the greatest award by continuing to do what you love.’

──────────────────

Jihoon once again found himself at the recording studio, however, at a more reasonable time. He was trying to finalize all of the details on the songs for their comeback album, so he was spending his days in the recording studio and ending it in the dance studio, fully exhausted to where he would only have enough energy to shower and trudge back to his bedroom, just to pass out on his bed.

He heard the door to his room open but didn’t make an effort to turn around.

“How’s the song coming along?”

“The album is nearly complete—”

“No, the solo one.”

Jihoon finally glanced up at Seungcheol who now stood beside him. “I haven’t had as much time to work on it. Why?”

“No, I just wanted to check in with you.”

“You’re a good leader, hyung,” he said quietly.

Seungcheol clicked his tongue. “Of course, I am. But I’m mostly just curious because you’ve never written a song about her specifically that only had you singing it.”

“…that’s not true.”

“What? Which one?”

“The first song I ever wrote.”

“Oh what? What was it?”

Jihoon shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s an old song that I think only I remember anyway, plus, I only had vocals at the time. No instruments or anything.”

“…huh. What was it about?”

──────────────────

You wiped your snot away from your face, unable to differentiate between mucus and tears. Your unrelenting sobs weakened to light shudders.

His voice carried from above you, his hand entangled in your messy knots as he rubbed soothing circles against your temple. You curled yourself further into the tear-stained pillow he so lovingly dubbed, “Y/N’s Breakdown Headrest” which also doubled as “Y/N’s Punching Bag” when your emotions were forged from fire and not a dam that couldn’t hold anymore of the taunts and cruelty from your own parents.

His thigh was a mere hair’s breadth away from grazing the top of your head. He had a tendency to bounce his leg, one you continuously called him out on, but he wouldn’t ever stop his bad habit.

That is, unless you needed him to.

And he always gave you what you needed.

So, he sang to you a song of hopes and dreams and the magic of forever and always. Lyrics of never-ending friendship and pinky promises.

──────────────────

Jihoon paused, wondering how you comforted yourself now, wondering if you now had a Breakdown Headrest 2.0, before he spoke again. “It’s about what all the songs I write are about. Love. Although, more lowkey, not as direct.”

“Love and her are synonymous to you, aren’t they?”

“She’s the one who taught me most of it,” Jihoon said nonchalantly. “A truly honest and genuine form of it.”

“Wow, how romantic of you,” Seungcheol laughed.

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “I’m letting you know I only have the patience to tolerate all of you guys because of her. She believes it’s her divine mission to be as annoying as possible.”

“She sounds terrifying.”

“Yeah, she’s taught me how to be patient and remain calm. But she was also incredibly patient with me. Honestly, it feels like all the things that make me likable are all from her.”

Seungcheol made a “oOooOooOOOooOOooo~” noise before Jihoon got fed up and kicked him out. Of course, his reprieve was short lived as more and more members flocked into his room, a constant moving traffic of his twelve brothers.

He imagined you meeting them.

With Seungcheol, you would probably tease him relentlessly, trying to come up with new names for the S. Coups game, while also thanking him for being so protective and steadfast, praising him for his taste in emo music and asking him to sing My Chemical Romance with you.

With Jeonghan, you both would sneak off to devise plans on how to create chaotic dynamics in between the members and cause more infighting while eating stolen snacks or spend hours just sitting around, doing fuck all, because why not.

With Jisoo, you both would speak in English (with you affectionately calling him by his English name “Joshua!”), sharing music as well as probably arguing between Los Angeles and New York, since that was a common feud topic Jisoo brought up.

With Jun, you would try to get as many reactions out of him as possible or get him to write down the list of all of the authentic Chinese restaurants around Korea or you would sit with him at a piano and watch as he played OSTs to Chinese dramas, applauding all the while starry-eyed.

With Soonyoung, you both would either be each other’s soulmates or the banes of each others’ existence, both fiery and passionate; however, you were always good at matching the energies of those around you, so you would let him ebb and flow while you merely followed, likely to call him, “Hoshingi,” just as Jeonghan does, and you would probably love caring for him the same way you did with elementary school students.

With Wonwoo, you would watch him play his PC games, probably in awe of his prowess or you would discuss lyricism and poetry, both exchanging flowery words for no reason as you would try to pick his brain as to what really lies beneath the surface, whether he truly is as straightforward as he seems, and be intensely satisfied that he simply is as he is.

With Seokmin, likely to sweetly call him “DK~”, you would ask him to sing for you since you loved Broadway style voices, and since you both were so generous with your kindness, there would be no doubt that the two of you would somehow manage to start up a non-profit that manages to eradicate all the bad in the world.

With Mingyu, you would discuss filming and the latest movies to watch and you would ask him how he finds the motivation to do many different hobbies at once especially when busy with being an idol; you would probably try to trick him into listening to you tell ghost stories as if they happened to you.

With Minghao, you would share your favorite poets and philosophical ideas, sharing the life lessons that you two have learned and realized you managed to hack life’s code at a younger age than most, you both realized the real importance of being alive: contentment and love.

With Seungkwan, you would probably be laughing so hard at his wit that you wouldn’t have much time to breathe, you would try to figure out how exactly he managed to memorize so much information surrounding K-Pop and why exactly he was so passionate about it or if neither of those, you would ask him if he could get you the plug for those Jeju hallabong oranges.

With Hansol, you would call him “Vernonz,” since you loved names that began with the letters V and Z, and ask him about his parents once you found out they were both artists, and you two would definitely discuss the effects of late-stage capitalism and social media on humanity.

With Chan, you would do your best not to baby him, but you hold a lot of fondness for those younger than you, you would try to figure out how he is so particular about his attention to detail and whether it is something that is pressuring him (and if there was some way you could alleviate it).

He imagined you there, integrated into his life again. He imagined you showing authentic interest in every one of his precious members, unlike most interviewers they would be forced to interact with every comeback. You would learn all of their names, find out their favorite foods, the best way to make everyone collectively laugh, and ultimately, how to help all of them feel comfortable around you and inevitably love you.

And once they did, he could say that his most beloved people were finally all together.

He fell in love with you, but you’re the one who taught him how to walk into it with his eyes wide open. So, he did it with his members. It took practice, having to actively choose them. With you, it may have always been a choice, but it was as natural as breathing, even if there were times he felt like he was being suffocated (or wanted to suffocate you).

He remembered the first time he became aware of it. Most people talk about how love comes, there was always talk about rose-tinted glasses and how it softened the world around them, unable to forget the brilliant smile on their face, but no. You always shattered expectations.

From anyone else’s standards, his realization came at an inopportune time. But it was so clear. It wasn’t as though you had sparkles around you as you emitted a warm glow, it wasn’t as though your hair was perfectly touched up with no strand out of place, it wasn’t as though you were perfectly dolled-up with eyes lined and lips colored. No. It was just… you.

And that's when he knew.

Because there was no filter to block the sheer clarity he was hit with when he finally accepted he was in love with you.

──────────────────

When Jihoon saw your crying form, a slurry of words filled with concern and instructions were the only thing leaving his mouth as he packed his things up. He only deviated once he gave a quick farewell to his noona who left with her dad.

Jihoon bit his lip. Would you be okay? Maybe he’ll just rush home now and shower then call you later at night. Or maybe he should go prepare his bedroom if you decide to visit. Yes. He should do that.

Jihoon turned on his heel to make his way back home, his newfound mission resounding in his mind.

However, your cousin’s voice reached his ears, “Wait—Jihoon, I can give you a ride.”

He looked back at him, saw the way your shoulders still trembled, and shook his head firmly. His fist clenched, the baseball preventing his nails from biting into his palms. He spun it once. Twice. And up into the air.

“Here, firefly.”

You caught it by instinct.

Your gaze met his.

He felt his heart ache at the sheer brokenness apparent in your eyes, rimmed with red and puffed skin. He grit his teeth. He hasn’t seen you cry this hard since the day your parents told you that your number two class ranking was nothing to be proud of and that they expected more from you.

His jaw clenched so hard, he heard an audible bite.

“Why are you giving me this?”

Your voice sounded so soft, like a child. A visceral instinct within him wanting to lull you into a peaceful rest with a lullaby.

But he wouldn’t do that.

Because that would be embarrassing.

(That was a future Jihoon problem.)

“It’s your win today.”

He much preferred the look of confusion on your face to the look of agony you held just a few moments ago.

“Huh?”

He swallowed thickly, his brain unable to keep up with the words tumbling from his mouth. “Even when you feel like you’ve lost, even when you feel like you have nothing to gain, just the fact that you’re still here, that’s a win. So. Scream. Cry. You can do what you want. It’s your win.”

Your gaze trailed down to the baseball, too large to wrap your fingers around entirely. It was probably much denser than you thought it would be, the weight foreign in your hands, unlike his.

You sniffled.

A soft smile formed on your lips.

And Jihoon realized he preferred that look on your face than any other he’s seen.

Pretty.

He rapidly turned on his heel before he even gave a second to try and unpack that thought.

The weight of his baseball gear was really doing a number on his heart, he realized belatedly.

That night, he didn’t prepare his room. He didn’t even call you.

(Not that you reached out.)

He merely stared up at his ceiling, his heart in a constant flux of rapidly beating or stopping completely.

He groaned loudly as he played through the day’s earlier events, thinking himself stupid for giving you a fucking baseball. You don’t even like sports. Did he think he sounded cool when he said all of that cringey stuff?

It’s your win?

But despite the feeling of wanting to curl in on himself, he couldn’t help but still agree with his earlier self.

You did win his heart, after all.

(He threw his pillow at the wall.)

──────────────────

“You’ve been liking her posts more easily.”

Jihoon merely grunted as he tapped away at his computer, Soonyoung on the couch beside him. “I decided to just… stop overthinking. Well, more like just stop thinking in general. I’m too tired to try and pretend I’m smarter than I actually am.”

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow. “You got it bad for her.”

Jihoon glared at him, who was scrolling through his (Jihoon’s) phone. “Be careful what you say. For the amount of songs that are about her, she covers basically 60% of your salary.”

Soonyoung laughed. “Guess I owe her a lot, huh? If she didn’t up and leave, you wouldn’t have come here and we would’ve never met. So, I guess I’m grateful to her. Plus. She’s cute.”

“She’s more than that.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” Soonyoung went quiet for a moment. “She… A part of me really doesn’t want to trust her. I keep remembering that day, you know. Where you just… didn’t seem like yourself. Barely there—” Jihoon cringed at the recalled memory. “—but she also just seems so genuine that it makes it hard. I want to be your bro, you know? Bro code and all—”

“I never asked you to do that.”

“—And I’m nothing if not a bro. But I don’t think you’re the type of person to be hung up on someone who’s not trustworthy. Like. You lose interest in people easily if you don’t see them on a regular basis. But her? It’s been years, bro.”

“Okay, bro.”

“Just letting you know I support you in your decisions,” Soonyoung stated, but there was an edge to his voice that sounded as though he was trying to convince himself more than Jihoon. “If she’s really who you say she is. If she’s the one who’s captured that stubborn heart of yours. Then I’ll do everything I can to help you out—Oh, she posted again. Wow. She posts often and yet still gets over a thousand likes. It hasn’t even been a day. Oh wow!”

Jihoon twitched but tried not to show his eagerness. “What?”

“They’re doing a donation drive for the group home that she works with. Ey, how can someone who does volunteer work to help kids and teens be a bad person? Jihoon, are you kidding me?”

“Young-ah, you’re the one who said it, not me—”

“So close-minded, Hoon.”

Jihoon rolled his computer chair over to Soonyoung, snatched his phone back, and smacked the annoying gnat’s hand in the process. Soonyoung yelped in pain, but laughed it off. He saw your post (noticed that Soonyoung ‘liked it for him’) and a figurative lightbulb lit up over his overworked head.

“This looks like something Bumzu-hyung would post on his story. Maybe I can ask him to share it. Oh, but this is her private page. Oh wait. She tagged the group home.”

“Thanks for the play-by-play.”

Jihoon ignored him and clicked the profile to see they had the exact same e-flyer post. But he knew that you’d probably notice there was an influx of donations (hardly anything got by you) and he didn’t want to bombard you with unsolicited help.

But it’s for a good cause!

But he might be trespassing on her territory.

Everyone cares about youth and kids!

This group home wouldn’t have even caught his eye had it not been for you.

He groaned inwardly. “I don’t know whether I should ask Bumzu to reshare or what—”

“Dude, just ask her if you can share it and then wait for her reply. It’s not like there’s only a one day donation thing.”

Jihoon blinked at Soonyoung. “You’re right.”

Soonyoung immediately sat up straighter, pulling out his own phone from his pocket. He opened up his voice memo app. “Say that again, I need to record that so I can set it as my ringtone.”

Soonyoung pressed the Record button, extended his phone receiver to Jihoon, who leaned in promptly and said:

“Fuck off, Kwon Soonyoung.”

──────────────────

“Kwon Soonyoung, what the hell are you doing?”

“What do you mean? It’s not like I planned this.”

Jihoon glared at the boy before him who was somehow wearing matching clothes again. He specifically came home after rehearsal to change into something different and yet, here he was, matching with this endless energy ball. Jihoon specifically changed out of his all-black garment to choose a long, plain blue button-down overshirt and ripped, dark jeans. Something different from his usual style of a t-shirt and shorts.

Yet, there Soonyoung was, in nearly the same outfit, minus the overshirt being a blue flannel.

“I think this just means that we’re soulmates, Jihoon-ah.”

Jihoon pulled back his fist as if to hit Soonyoung, but the latter didn’t flinch at all, only laughed at the expense of his friend. The other members were downstairs waiting for them so Jihoon didn’t have enough time to change out of the outfit. And it felt almost ridiculous to give this more attention than it deserves, as if he was losing by admitting that it bothered him to the point of needing to change clothes.

But Kwon Soonyoung, the man that he was, would not let him live it down.

“Wow, we look like a couple. We should go on dates, huh? Get some sushi or–ack!”

The shorter of the two pressed his foot against the back of the other’s knee and Soonyoung nearly came crashing down had it not been for his instincts to catch himself.

Jihoon huffed down the stairs, shaking his head at the situation and readying himself to be made fun of by his members. Once he got through that door, it was game over.

And he was right.

Seungkwan, Mingyu, and Dino were the ones who rallied the rest of the group to heckle, which only added insult to injury, as those three were the ones who had the longest rap sheet to make fun of. Jihoon kept his disgusted face on as Soonyoung wrapped his arms around his shoulders, announcing to (what seemed like) the world about how he’s ‘matching with his best friend.’

Jihoon came back with a slew of half-hearted insults at the rest of his members, but they unfortunately outnumbered him. He is rarely on the receiving end of this level of teasing, but he was dragged into it thanks to Soonyoung, who was eating it up.

Even in the midst of it all, Jihoon couldn’t help but feel thankful that he even had someone to accidentally match with who would wear it with such pride and not shy away from it. Sure, it might seem dumb and annoying, but it reminded him that he could have that kind of playful relationship with others outside of you. He had other friends in school or at baseball, sure, but none were as comfortable, as relentlessly fun. He thought there would never be another you.

And there never was, but that feeling of acceptance, of joy, of gratitude.

He was able to find it outside of you.

Which was a heartbreaking realization before, but now he only hopes you’ve done the same.

And mere hours after his own outfit debacle, Jihoon sees your instagram story to find you accidentally matching with Hyejin, her making the same face that he did not too long ago. But you had a shit-eating grin, no doubt proud of causing a disruption in your friend’s life.

Your caption read: “oh, you and your soulmate are tied by a single, red thread? that’s nothing compared to the matching threads we got on right now. eat your heart out, makoto shinkai.”

Beneath it in smaller letters: “if you can’t tell by her face, this was not planned at all, but man, am i really rolling with it.”

Jihoon snorted at the serendipity of it all.

Perhaps the string of fate really isn’t just a single thread.

──────────────────

It was a rare day in which Jihoon found himself at home.

Which meant he had a lot of time to think about you.

(You replied to him. He shouldn’t have been so surprised. But he was, pleasantly so. Of course, it included a thumbs up emoji which was the visual manifestation of the acquaintance zone, but he would take what he could get.)

Album preparations were underway, and although there is a part of him that feels as though he should be scrambling, especially as their anniversary date was literally tomorrow, he thought back to a voice from his youth.

Years ago, he laid in his childhood bed, struck with a nasty fever from pushing his immune system too far by attempting to balance school and various music competitions. There was a half-asleep you, exhausted by misplaced guilt, with your fingers intertwined with his, who said: Jihoonie, Koreans always say ‘fighting’. I told you that this morning, and I knew you weren’t feeling well. I could’ve stopped you. And now here you are. I said ‘fighting,’ but why? Why do we have to fight? Life isn’t a battle to win. You don’t have to overcome anything, okay? You can just lay here and be with me. Please don’t get sick again. Please remember to rest. Some days, it’s okay to just be.

So, here he was. Simply being.

Whenever massive events (like SEVENTEEN’s six year anniversary) happened, he made sure to spend the 24 hours prior doing nothing than just being, to gain enough energy to last the following day.

Otherwise, the nagging guilt would get to him.

You were always weaving stories with even the thinnest of threads. Your knack for adding dramatic flair, amping it up to eleven, was a nightmare sometimes. For example, when he got sick and you kept repeating that you should’ve said something instead of letting him go on stage only to nearly faint afterwards. You took on too much responsibility for things outside of your control, which only caused you to lose your grip on what you actually could.

His chest tightened at the thought of you losing your grip completely. There were very few things in life that terrified him, but you potentially ending yours was one that plagued him until he learned how to remain steady when you were feeling unsure, and even still, it tore him up inside. But he knew that it wasn’t his battle to face; he wasn’t meant to save you. You reminded him of that time and time again, so instead, he learned how to let you live the life you weren’t sure you wanted. He observed warily.

As a teenager, he knew just how bad these thoughts could get for people at that age. He knew how people fell prey to the lies that they were unworthy of life and love.

So, he simply tried to be as honest as possible. He would do his best to not invalidate your experience, but he refused to enable those insidious feelings. He would come off as abrasive, he was sure, but your ability to detect bullshit was like no other. Your parents had a big hand in that. So, instead, he was truthful in his own way, in his own language, one that you learned to understand.

A few years ago, you did a two-part YouTube podcast at Yale. The first one was released a couple of months prior to the second, and he’s sure at least one hundred of the views are from SEVENTEEN (not all him, his members also took away a lot from your words).

He listened to that podcast time and time again. He heard the life in your voice, the curiosity of the future outweighing the pain of the past. You said that life was, at first, a means to be with the people you loved. But you slowly came to believe that life was something that you would choose to love every single day, and so you did.

He hoped that you still did, but trusted that, if there were days that would come where you did not, you would reach out to someone to wait with you until the storm passed and you could choose to love again.

His chest filled with pride thinking about how far you’ve come.

But he couldn’t help but wish there were some things that remained from back then.

That glimmer of hope spurred him to become mindful of the object he was fiddling with in his hands. He held up a bracelet of years ago, hardly worn by time or by him. He wasn’t sure whether he was still allowed to. It was one-half of a pair, but if its partner no longer existed, then.

However, he never had the desire to throw it away.

The metal charms felt both foreign and at home in his hands as he fiddled with them, the faint clicking sound of the chain barely registering as his mind was in an entirely different place. His eyes focused once again on the charm of the sun caught between his fingers.

If only catching you was as simple, he mused.

Jihoon sighed and covered his eyes, desperately trying not to cringe at his internal monologue, habitually reaching for the Chopper plushie that you gifted him years ago, squeezing the body to diffuse the embarrassment he felt.

He remembered when he saw the charms at some random shop he heard about from others and thought you would enjoy, so he decided to scope it out in advance for the two of you. It was easy, on his way home after spending a few hours on his own to rehearse his clarinet, a regular occurrence.

Although there was no doubt the two of you gravitated towards each other, you both valued your independence and alone time.

──────────────────

“We’re giving us the chance to miss each other, Jihoonie.”

“Who said I’d ever miss you?”

“Well, gosh darn. Guess I’ll cover for you and miss you twice as much.”

“…You’re dumb.”

“Yes. Can I have some of your fries?”

──────────────────

He retaliated by taking the ketchup bottle and squeezing them all over the tray of fries and you immediately retracted, believing that fries should be dipped in its respective sauce (unless they were loaded fries, of course, which warranted using a utensil of sorts).

He chuckled to himself. Fifteen was one of the most turbulent years of his life, but there were plenty of moments (like fries drowning in ketchup) that reminded him it wasn’t all intense.

Your fifteenth year started off with that charm bracelet.

Two weeks before then, you were so moody that he nearly gave you your birthday gift earlier than he intended, just so he wouldn’t have to see you be so upset (for which, he has only a vague remembrance of what could have made you so upset). Of course, it might have been easier if he had simply brought up his concern and asked how you were, but he knew you would have brushed it off as nothing.

He paused.

Did he know that though?

Or did he just assume?

He clicked his tongue, annoyed at his own self-reflection.

Communication was easy in theory.

Application, however.

He often found it difficult, matching your pace.

You were always so quick.

Quick-witted.

Quick to anger.

Quick to assume.

Quick to run away.

He heard a soft knock at his bedroom door (which meant it wasn’t Mingyu or Soonyoung) and he grunted in response. The door slowly opened (that ruled out Seungcheol and Chan) and revealed who decided to greet him in such a manner.

Ah, he was right.

“Woozingi~”

“Jeonghan-hyung.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Jeonghan moved to sit at the edge of Jihoon’s bed, with his legs crossed. “The members are wanting to get dinner tonight altogether since we have a schedule tomorrow. The staff said they’ll pay since it’s our six years.”

This had Jihoon propping himself upright. “Barbecue?”

Jeonghan snickered. “Yeah, it’ll be good to get ready in a few hours. But I just wanted to stop by and tell you in person since I know you like to mute the group chat.”

“That’s because it’s constantly going off,” Jihoon grumbled.

“Yes, that happens when people are trying to have a conversation, Jihoon-ah. You should try it sometimes. Especially since it sounds like you have communication issues.”

Jihoon winced. “Hyung. Your timing is terrible.”

“No, it’s impeccable. Just not for you. Anyway, a word of advice.”

“Hm.”

“You don’t have to fear rejection anymore,” Jeonghan started, slowly, the words seeming almost foreign in his mouth. “Regardless of what happens with her, you have people in your life that care about you as you are. You don’t have to try and match her. I don’t want you to subconsciously fall back into a habit of appeasing her because you’re afraid of scaring her away again.”

Jihoon blinked slowly. “I wasn’t expecting actual advice, so I’m a little stunned right now.”

Jeonghan chuckled. “I’m gonna be honest. The other members told me to come talk to you because the rest are either too scared or don’t know what to say.”

“Hah, we’re back to our trainee days, huh?”

Jeonghan grinned, probably recalling the amount of times that he was the emotional support pillar of the boys before they each learned to open up to each other. “Speaking of, I remember when I first met you. You were a teen with a cold-hearted exterior and a lot of opinions as well as the weight of the world on your shoulders. You had the responsibility to carry the music of twelve other guys and you had just lost something that was precious to you. You threw yourself into your work and that became your identity.”

“I—”

“I know you’re not that way anymore, but I’m just reminding you that, no matter what happens with her, no matter how she may respond, you aren’t that cold teenager who had to bear the weight all on your own. You’ve grown and are surrounded by people who can help ease the load.” Jeonghan paused for a moment. “Also, if I could think of a member who laughs easily at anything, you are one of the first that comes to mind. So, it concerns me that you haven’t been laughing lately, even when Mingyu accidentally sneezed out his ramyeon noodles—“ Jihoon snorted at the memory from last night. “—and, if I can assume anything about her, I don’t think she’d be very honored to know that it’s because of her. So. Come back to us, Jihoon. If she’s really meant to be in your life, she can match your rhythm. Don’t leave us in the dust.”

“Is this a long-winded way of saying ‘bros before hoes’?”

Jeonghan burst into laughter. “Maybe so!”

──────────────────

“Our Jihoonie~”

The teenage boy grunted in response, shooting up a look at one of the older members. “Is there something that you need, hyung?”

“You speak so formally, it’s off-putting.”

“That’s because someone refuses to act his age.”

“What a tough Busan guy,” Jeonghan teased.

Jihoon’s face twitched.

“Bumzu-hyung is looking for you. Said he wanted to finish up some more lessons.”

“Agh. I knew he was going to have criticisms. I’m barely getting a grip on this music production stuff, so I don’t even know if what I’m making is good enough to sell. Everyone might hate it.”

“Even if everyone else hates your music, just know I’m one of your biggest fans.”

“...If my music is hated, then we won’t make any money, which means you’ll be poor. What? Is it your dream to become poor?”

Jihoon expected Jeonghan to laugh and tell him that he was right and that money mattered. But instead, Jeonghan replied, “Jihoon. Your music is good. And if we don’t make money because other people aren’t able to see it. Then what’s the point? You say that it’s your responsibility as to whether SEVENTEEN succeeds or not, but, we’re thirteen members. Three units. One team. We’re SEVENTEEN. Stop acting like it’s all about you. Maybe my dream used to be becoming rich. But now, it’s just doing this. With all of us.”

──────────────────

Jihoon stared at his hands, at the charm bracelet. “Is it selfish to want this life and her as well?”

“Maybe it is. But, so what if you’re selfish?”

“Isn’t being selfish supposed to be a bad thing?”

“Just hope that she’s as selfish as you are,” Jeonghan shrugged. “By wanting her in your life, does that mean you want to be with her romantically?”

Jihoon paused. “You know, I’m not sure. I think I would be over the moon if we could even just be a part of each other’s lives. To have that line of communication open. But as the people that we are now. I think I’d like to meet the new Y/N. She probably has more in common with the new Lee Jihoon than the old her anyway.”

“You two have grown apart, aren’t you worried?”

Jihoon went silent for a moment, trying to pick out the right words. “Rather than grown apart, it feels like we’ve simply grown in separate spaces, by taking different routes, but our lives seem too intertwined for our paths to never cross again. Plus, she’s one of the few people that I could really be myself around. It’d be nice to have another safe space like that outside of SEVENTEEN because who else can I complain about you all to, that wouldn’t cause conflict between us?”

“Ay. What is there to complain about?”

Jihoon gave his hyung a pointed look.

“Alright, alright,” Jeonghan started. “But be honest. Real talk. You really think she wouldn’t spread it to Dispatch?”

“She has always valued people’s stories more than anything, so it really annoyed her when other people would take out-of-context excerpts and twist them. So. That’s how I know she wouldn’t spread it. Also, if she was that kind of person, she would’ve done so by now. She has a ton of blackmail material on me.”

Jeonghan chuckled. “Interesting. You said she likes stories, so is she a writer like you?”

“Not in the traditional sense. She’s more of a speaker than a writer. In high school, of course, she had her awkward moments like everybody else did, but even then, she was a tier above the rest. I don’t know how to say this kindly, but she doesn’t really think before she talks, but she doesn’t usually have to because what comes out is almost always what she intended.”

“So, she must be eloquent then.”

Jihoon clicked his tongue. “Just because things come out as she intended doesn’t mean she wouldn’t intentionally be mean or annoying.”

──────────────────

“You like unnie, don’t you?”

Jihoon spluttered. Shit, shit, shit. He tried to gather his thoughts, but failed. He wasn’t good with spontaneous spoken words, that was always your realm of expertise. He needed time to think of the right thing to say, but you never waited for him. “F-Firefly, I—”

You barked out a laugh, and he nearly retaliated at the harshness. He wasn’t sure why exactly you were being so harsh. “Hey, it’s fine. I don’t blame you. She’s pretty high up there, above us mortals. From now on, I’ll do my best to help you out, yeah? That’s what best friends are for. Plus, you’re like family, like a brother to me, so.”

Jihoon sank back.

Family? Brother?

He wondered why that left a bitter taste in his mouth. But that didn’t make any sense. Wasn’t being called family the highest praise?

So why the hell did that piss him off?

Instead of speaking his actual thoughts, his mouth had a mind of its own. “I can handle myself, Y/N.”

You sneered at him.

God, you were so infuriating sometimes.

She wasn’t like that.

She was the soothing waves of Busan, ebb and flow, constant and expected. She was everything you weren’t. She was older, more experienced, graceful, calm, soothing.

She was beautiful.

But she didn’t have that burning fire you did. Didn’t have him reacting the way you managed to every time you opened your damn mouth or rolled your eyes—there you went again!

What the hell was wrong with you?

Rapid escalation, raised voices. You, accusing him of not trusting your judgment and hiding his crush from you, saying that you wished he trusted you. Him, arguing that he didn’t need to share every little thing, that it wasn’t about his trust for you at all, and that God, he did! He did trust you! Of course, he did!

So, why didn’t he tell you about the stupid crush?

It wasn’t that deep, but you were convinced it was, and he was too tired to even try and correct you. So, sure, he could be “in love” with his noona, like you believed. Because then he wouldn’t have to untangle the mess in his chest. He could shove it under the rug like he always had, always would.

You slammed your fists down onto the table before you walked away from him, in a rampage. Like a damn wildfire trying to clear everything in sight.

You were a volatile thing, explosive, even.

But.

You fizzled out just as fast.

He awoke around midnight to the soft knocking at his window, your silhouette perched on the thickest branch the tree outside his childhood home had to offer. He had half a mind to not open the glass pane but he saw you shiver and his body leaped out of bed without a second thought.

“I’m sorry, Jihoonie,” you said, a few moments after you clambered into his room.

“Okay.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for being friends with me anyway.”

“Sure.”

So, he wrapped your favorite blanket around you, the one he kept in his room for nights like this. Color slowly returned to your face and he saw the stains of tears on your cheek in the moonlight. You muttered words of apologies and told him about your day, not having the chance to earlier.

You were better like this, quiet, but not silent. Like a crackling fireplace beckoning all to come and listen, to be enveloped in warmth and light.

He never once called you his family.

But he’d be damned if you weren’t his home.

──────────────────

“Funny enough, despite the fact that she’s more of a speaker than a writer, even more than that, she’s a listener. She listens to more stories than she tells them. I think that’s helped with her pride. If she knew she messed up, she would always apologize, even if she hated doing it.”

“Well, that’s one lesson you haven’t learned from her yet.”

Jihoon pulled a face and Jeonghan laughed in response. The older of the two snatched away the Chopper on the opposite end and started throwing the doll up and down.

“Alright, lover boy. What I got from this conversation is that you’re still in love with her, but you gotta make sure she’s worthy of your love, alright? Heed my warning, don’t be afraid of being rejected by her. It’s already happened anyway, and here you are: world-star idol with twelve bros behind you no matter what.”

Jihoon cracked a smile. “You’re right. I got lucky.”

Jeonghan tossed Chopper back in his original vicinity. “I think Dokyeomie wanted to ask something from you too, but I don’t remember what it was, so maybe you can go get ready and he’ll come find you.”

“What a useless messenger.”

“Your luck can’t be perfect, Jihoon-ah,” Jeonghan quipped. He turned to leave the room but stopped in his tracks. “I hope to hear her story one day. Hear her side of things.”

“…Me too, hyung.”

──────────────────

“How much is the corn dog?”

“Hmm… Tell me your favorite color and how it makes you feel.”

Jihoon mustered as much displeasure as he could hold in his six-year-old body. “Y/N, you can’t pay with stories, that’s stupid.”

“It’s my shop!”

“Jihoon, we’re just playing pretend,” your cousin added, his eyes darting between the two of you, likely worried about needing to do damage control.

“Hyung, her idea is dumb!”

“Why!” You whined. “People pay with money all the time, but you can get money whenever! I don’t get to hear stories! I like stories! My parents don’t read to me every night like yours do, Jihoon!”

Jihoon stomped out of the playroom in annoyance, ears grated by the sound of your crying and your cousin’s failed attempts to console you. Stories couldn’t buy the new toy race car that he got. Stories couldn’t buy him candy at the corner market near the kindergarten. Stories couldn’t buy a GameBoy.

Stories didn’t matter.

Money mattered.

Still, nearly a decade later, you never failed to ask for your unconventional form of payment every time he took a portion of your lunch. He knew you packed more for him anyway. And he knew you would always ask for a story in return.

And he intentionally packed smaller meals so he could tell you about how the History teacher had botched up his classmate’s test and accidentally graded off by one, about how the clarinet solo he was learning required a finger pattern he wasn’t used to, about how that one guy—oh, the tennis player?—no, no, the flautist—isn’t it flutist?—it doesn’t matter—yes, it does, Jihoon—anyway, he asked out a girl—the senior?—yes—oh wow, how bold.

And you would smile in return, sliding your food choice of the day within his reach.

He learned that you hated money; it was the one and only thing your parents ever gave you consistently. Simply, it was the manifestation of their love (or lack of) for you.

So, he paid you with recountings of the mundane. You never complained, even when he felt as though his storytelling skills were lackluster. He held your rapt attention; your eyes wide with wonder, voice laced with curiosity.

Eventually, he asked you why.

Why stories?

“Because without them, I wouldn’t have learned that you love the X-Men series because of Hugh Jackman, that you prefer winter over summer, that the first ever K-Pop group you listened to was Brown Eyed Girls, that when you tell me a funny story, you wait until I react before you start laughing.”

And you gave him that smile that made his heart stutter.

“Money is everywhere, Jihoon. But there’s only one you. That’s all there is to it. People, at the core of it all, are just stories. So. That’s why. People will always matter more than profit.”

──────────────────

After Jihoon readied himself for the group dinner, he plopped himself down onto the communal couch and found himself scrolling through Instagram. He stopped at your latest post, a candid shot of you reading a children’s book to several six-year-olds, your face aglow with excitement, a high chance the photographer captured you mid-way through some silly voice attributed to the character on the page.

“Hey, hyung.”

“Hm?”

“Can I borrow your microphone for the day?”

Jihoon didn’t even have the chance to think twice before the words left his mouth, “Tell me your favorite color and how it makes you feel.”

An uncomfortable silence blanketed the room.

“Is… Is this a hidden-camera?”

“...never mind. Just put it back when you’re done.”

“It’s blue, by the way.”

“I don’t care—”

“It makes me feel happy because it’s the color of the sky and of the ocean, which means it can be super calm or super exciting. It’s also one of the colors of our Caratdeul.”

“Okay, Dokyeom-ssi. Get out.”

“Yes, hyung. Thank you.”

Jihoon thought about how, if given the chance, you would ask Seokmin if he liked the paleness of 9am or the depth of 6pm? If he liked the gentleness of serenity or the vibrancy of cerulean? Or if he appreciated all that the shades encompassed before fading into greens and indigos?

But he wasn’t you.

You were the inspiration; the muse.

You were the reason to write.

He was just a storyteller.

──────────────────

“THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO IS HERE. THANK YOU TO THE PLEDIS STAFF, OUR MANAGERS, OUR CHOREOGRAPHERS, OUR MUSIC TEAM, OUR DANCERS, OUR STYLISTS, OUR CAMERA WORKERS, OUR FAMILIES, AND OUR SEVENTEEN MEMBERS! HAPPY SIX YEARS. HERE’S TO MORE!”

Everyone in the rented out restaurant cheered before drinking together. Even the sound barrier breaking screams of Soonyoung wasn’t enough to dampen Jihoon’s pride and spirit over how far they’ve come as a team. He looked around at his table, several members already seemingly drunk, and couldn’t help but smile to himself.

“Jihoon-ah, make an exception for tonight and drink!”

He shook his head fervently. “There’s going to be several of you who are going to regret drinking when we have our V LIVE tomorrow. You’re going to look super puffy.”

“I can already feel it,” Seungcheol laughed, his eyes slightly glazed. “But the food and the beer are too good to pass up.”

Speaking of, Jihoon made sure to snatch a piece of kalbi to put onto his plate before Mingyu could. The younger one gave him the stink-eye while Jihoon merely smirked and tilted his head back, challenging him. Mingyu decided to change his target and grab at Seungkwan’s piece, who promptly smacked his hand with a “Kim Mingyu!”

Laughter went around the table as they reflected on the last six years, the amount of embarrassing moments that were brought up were positively correlated with the amount of shots that were taken.

Jihoon grit his teeth as he tried not to fold in on himself, remembering how they threw him up as a cheer and nearly ended his life by creating a Jihoon-shaped hole in the ceiling. He was so much smaller back then, easier to launch without thinking.

They laughed about the incident where Mingyu was nearly beaten to death by Jihoon with a guitar, which Jihoon argued that he still believed he was in the right. They discussed one of their first performances as a team, where they performed NU’EST’s “Hello” and they all had helmet hair. They poked fun at Seungkwan for his revolutionary English skills when he said, “are you kimbap kidding?”

They’ve grown so much.

International interviews with BuzzFeed, Seventeen the magazine, and others. GOING SEVENTEEN as a show has grown alongside them, more than just showing Carats the behind-the-scenes, but has now turned to variety that garnered the new fanbase of Cubics, and has been an honest highlight to Jihoon’s career, where they can just go wild and laugh with each other, just as they always do.

They talked about how they used to sneak in food, how they used to help each other get ready for school, how they still have the same playful spirit as they did back then, but with more trust that has formed between them (although, less for Jeonghan since his cheating at games has only gotten worse).

Jihoon leaned back, full of food and laughter and gratitude.

He wouldn’t trade his life with his team for anything.

(Not even you.)

However, that didn’t mean Jihoon didn’t want you to be a part of his already complete life.

He was a selfish human being.

He hoped you would be one too.

──────────────────

May 26th.

Six years ago, “Adore U” came out, marking the beginning of the journey of a thirteen member boy idol group named SEVENTEEN.

Now, here he was, trying to not be bullied into drinking another shot of soju after already consuming several in a short period.

Their anniversary V LIVE ended not too long ago and they did not have a schedule the following day, so the team decided to celebrate on their own, playing Mafia and messing around. A few hours ago, Jihoon would’ve hardly been able to tolerate the noise level, but since his hearing has been compromised due to his heart beating so loudly in his ears from the alcohol, he was plenty fine.

He shooed away his members and retreated back into the corner of the room, pulling out his cellphone and ignoring Mingyu making stupid kissy faces and noises. Jihoon shot him a look of disgust, but Mingyu merely laughed it off and went to go bother his next victim, who seemed to be Boo Seungkwan, a prime choice indeed.

As soon as he refreshed his Instagram app, there you were (with a highlighted gradient ring around your profile picture, your head tilted back with a soft smile grazing your features as you took in the endless sky above you).

He clicked on the circle and saw you and your friends there, a dimmed photo but your collective smiles large and wide. He recognized Hyejin and Wheein easily (the former with a disgusted look apparent on her face and the latter with a deep dimple), as they were two friends who were a common occurrence on your feed.

And there you were.

alexa, play congratulations by post malone ft. quavo 🥳🎓 #PHinisheD

The corner of his lip quirked up at the cleverness in your caption.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol in his system, he swiped up to send a message:

i figured u would be a day6 or eric nam kind of fan

His brain short-circuited.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Fuck.

Who was he to think he could directly message you like this? Also, who the hell was he to figure anything about you? He hasn’t even spoken to you. Jesus Christ, what has he done?

Before he could stop himself though, his thumbs decided to speak his thoughts.

sorry that was dumb of me to assume

of course u would like post malone considering u could rap the entirety of eminems album

What the hell, dude.

You were going to freak out and call him a creep and then block him.

You’ve literally never done that.

He tried to calm his heart.

However, not even ten minutes later, he realized he couldn’t take that risk.

sorry that was stupid

ignore me

congrats y/n

He felt nearly every goosebump that crawled along his skin, creeping up to his neck, threatening to choke him out. He breathed in deeply through his nose, hoping no one bears witness to him.

“Yah, Jihoon-ah.”

His eyes trailed up to see Soonyoung with a look of concern, mixed with a twinge of panic and anger.

Ah, it would be him.

“What did she do?”

──────────────────

For people who didn’t know him, Kwon Soonyoung comes off as, well, not-so-bright.

But that wasn’t (entirely) true.

Kwon Soonyoung was aware.

He knew how to read a room, but oftentimes, he would purposely choose to simply do what he wanted anyway. Hardly did he ever prioritize another person’s comfort and complacency over his expression of his individuality. He knew what it took to be a performer, and he never denied himself the opportunity to be one.

So, him simply staring at his friend in silence with eyes that alone could have earned him his moniker of “Tiger’s Gaze,” was a major indicator that something was amiss.

Also, the fact that his friend was shrouded in near darkness, eyes rimmed with red, only a corner lamp illuminating his pale features.

“She went to America. She’s never fucking coming back.”

Soonyoung tried not to wince at his friend’s broken tone. Jihoon cursed like a sailor when they were trainees, but it was a habit that he slowly lost since he would often be reprimanded for his speech. He had to do the work to censor himself.

Well, the K-Pop industry was not a stranger to censorship, he mused.

“Wasn’t she already at an international school, though?”

“Yeah, but I just… I thought she would come back after graduating from that boarding school, you know? She wanted to go to Seoul National University, but. Fuck, dude. What if I’m the reason she stopped? What if she stopped following her dreams because of me? What if I–”

“She made her choice, Jihoon.”

“This is all my fault.”

“How?”

Soonyoung saw confusion flit across Jihoon’s face, but it quickly settled with a shake of his head. “It just is, alright?”

“Jihoon–”

“I’ll never be good enough for her. Fuck, I just thought if I tried, then maybe I could be, and– God, who do I think I am? Of course she’d never want someone like me–”

“Dude! Shut the fuck up, will you?”

Jihoon sat there in stunned silence.

“This might not even have anything to do with you. And if she really went to America because she’s trying to avoid you, then she’s a massive bitch–”

“Don’t fucking call her that–”

“I can do whatever the hell I want. Just like she’s doing whatever the hell she wants.” Soonyoung’s anger was slowly morphing into rage. Who was this person in front of him? He was so used to the sure, secure Lee Jihoon who would never truly get riled up.

But one mention of you and suddenly he would spiral.

Who the hell did you think you were?

Leaving this man who loved you so fucking wildly, to the point where he was just one moment away from begging on his knees for your return.

Soonyoung felt disgusted, but it was more of a ringing concern in his ears.

“Jihoon, you’re acting crazy right now. So what if she doesn’t come back to Korea? Are you gonna wait like a fucking sad dog out in the rain? Hoping that she’ll come pick you up again? You’re missing your own fucking life here.”

“I just–”

“Yeah, yeah, you love her. I get it. But… If she were to see you right now, do you think she would even want this kind of love? This obsessive, insecure kind?”

Jihoon’s face was now contorted in pain and Soonyoung tried so terribly hard to keep his face neutral. Soonyoung was plenty capable of being a soothing person, especially to his fellow members, but he was so riddled with frustration that he knew that he would come off as disingenuous if he even tried to pretend to be.

“Let her go. If she comes back, then she will. But don’t let her come back to someone who is incapable of even picking himself off of the floor.”

“...Okay.”

Kwon Soonyoung was aware.

Aware of how much Lee Jihoon was in love with you.

Painfully so.

──────────────────

“I just–”

“You just what?” Soonyoung’s eyes bore into his friend’s face.

Jihoon recoiled at his tone. “I replied to her Instagram story and it was some dumb comment, but what if she thinks I’m being too much and she backs off and–?”

“Jihoon-ah.”

“...Soonyoung-ah.”

“She’s human, right?”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow at that. “Yeah, no shit.”

“Then why are you acting like she’s this untouchable goddess? Who cares if she thinks you’re being too much? You’re putting her on a pedestal she probably doesn’t even want, dude.”

──────────────────

“Why’d you reject the guy?”

You glanced up at her best friend. “What’re you talking about?”

Jihoon cocked his head to the side. Was it already so quickly forgotten by you? It happened at lunch and it was kind of rowdy. Poor dude. “The guy who asked you out to the dance. You said you thought he was cute before and that he was good at tutoring math.”

“Yeah, I might know him, but he doesn’t know me.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow. “I thought you guys tutored together.”

You clicked your tongue. “Yeah, we do, but. He doesn’t know me. I know him because I ask him questions. I ask him about himself. But he never once asked me a question about me. If he did, he would know that I hate public gestures. He would know that I don’t like receiving flowers. He didn’t even care to ask any of my friends about what I liked. The main reason as to why he asked me to go to the dance is probably because I made him feel good about himself. I might know him, but he doesn’t know me, and that’s one of the most annoying things.”

“What, that people don’t know you?”

“No. That people assume they know me.”

Jihoon paused for a moment.

“People think that I’m this super wholesome good kid who gets perfect grades.”

“Well, one of those things is true.”

You cracked a smile at that. “Yeah, well. The more people assume I’m on a different level from them, the lonelier it is. I just… I don’t want to be lonely, Jihoon.”

“It’s alright. I’ll make sure you aren’t.”

It was chilling, how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, as if you knew a secret he didn’t, as if you already prophesied a future that rendered his words empty. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Lee Jihoon.”

─────────────────��

Jihoon nearly bit his tongue.

Ever since he no longer had the security of having you be by his side, he became exactly like one of them, forcing assumptions onto you.

You were out of sight and he was out of his mind.

He told you that you could always be yourself around him, and here he was, creating a caricature of you in his head that he knew didn’t exist. To push forth the narrative he wrote. One born of insecurity. “...I don’t understand how you’ve been so right lately?”

“I really do wish I had my phone around to record you when you say that,” Soonyoung said off-handedly. “So, you’re not going to try to unsend those messages?”

“You can unsend messages?”

“Uh–”

Jihoon immediately unlocked his phone to go to his messages. There, he saw your chat. He long-pressed the message without much thought and his thumb hovered over it.

But he hesitated.

“...Just watching from afar isn’t enough for you anymore, is it?”

Jihoon stared up at his friend, who had a look of (almost) pity etched across his features. Jihoon swallowed the lump in his throat. “...No. I don’t think it is.”

“Well, if she rejects you in any kind of way, I can comfort you.”

“No thanks.”

“Yeah, thought you’d say that.”

──────────────────

Almost exactly sixty minutes later, Jihoon witnessed a miracle.

“...She replied.”

Seungkwan glanced up at Jihoon. “Who?”

Jihoon turned his screen to his younger member, who leaned forward to read his screen. Only to audibly gasp and cover his mouth with his hands. “You messaged her?!”

“Yeah, like an hour ago. Keep up.”

“Hyung, you didn’t tell me–”

“Ah, Boo Seungkwan.”

The corner of Seungkwan’s mouth twitched and Jihoon merely smirked. He turned his attention back to your messages, smiling fondly at your usage of 🥳 after greeting him a happy anniversary.

Oh shit, wait. You knew SEVENTEEN?

And he portrayed that sentiment exactly when messaging you.

(With some typing errors.)

(He may or may not have taken one, two, several shots once the anxiety settled back into him.)

(His alcohol tolerance was nonexistent.)

The messages were now rapid-fire. He found out that you were a Carat and that you favored Yoon Jeonghan.

He snorted at that, of course you would.

A lightbulb lit up over his head. Ah. He could do something for you.

He jumped up from his seat on the couch, away from Seungkwan who was watching over his shoulder the entire time who chose to remain silent because he knew he would be kicked out if he said anything compromising. “Jeonghan-hyung.”

“Woozi Woozi~?”

“Can you do something for me?”

Jeonghan stared at him, frozen. Then after a moment to process what exactly Jihoon said, the older one crossed his arms over his chest, a scandalized look in his wide eyes. “Depends on what you’re asking for.”

“YAH.”

“Lee Jihoon, don’t yell at someone you’re trying to ask a favor from. You’re lucky I’m a nice guy.”

Jihoon held his tongue, but his expression must have given it away because Jeonghan laughed and said that he would rather not die, and asked Jihoon to continue with what he was saying. “Y/N just graduated and she basically said that you’re her favorite SEVENTEEN member–”

“WOW! I like her already.”

“Hyung.”

“Okay, what do you want me to do for both my cute fan and my even cuter dongsaeng?”

“Just a video to congratulate her.”

“My videos are rare, it’s not easy to get something like this, you know.”

“Hyung, please.”

Jeonghan cackled, but quickly acquiesced. “Alright, alright.”

Soon enough, he found himself in a rhythm speaking to you. It was so easy, there was no residual awkwardness (on his end, at least) and it felt so natural. The banter was still there and so were your emoticons, escalating from the “:)” of your childhood to the iPhone emojis. You seemed so close, within reach, attainable.

That felt dangerous.

He could feel it. He could feel that desire to spill out everything he could. He spent years coming up with the words he wished he could’ve told you, some of them now award-winning songs, and it feels almost euphoric to know that he could tell you it all.

But.

He wasn’t sure, still. How receptive you would be. Would you run away like you did in the past whenever things became too much, too overwhelming? He always reminded you that you could never be that, but he wasn’t sure whether he was of the same capacity.

He wants you in his life. There is no doubt about that, especially not now.

But what if you leave again?

He cannot mess this up. He can’t.

So, he kept things light between you, jokes and jabs.

But that didn’t stop him from pushing for more, disguised in a (not-so) innocent attempt at ensuring that he would be able to have open contact with you in the future.

And that’s all he needed. A future with you in it.

That wasn’t too much to ask for, right?

──────────────────

Yes. Yes, it was.

After a few days of no response from your end on KakaoTalk, your Shikamaru profile picture almost mocking him with his permanent deadpan look, the answer was resounding.

But Jihoon’s entire identity was based on his stubbornness.

So, he decided to take a chance and message you on Instagram.

Only to retract immediately saying you didn’t have to reply.

Stupid.

Thankfully, though, you responded within 30 minutes, admitting that @narutofanfreak123 was not exactly a username you wanted to share with anyone above the age of twelve. You both quickly resolved the miscommunication (wow, Jihoon thought, imagine if we had this before).

He chuckled at your choice of KKT username, @MadameFirefly, oddly touched that his nickname for you still held enough weight to be your moniker for a messaging app.

He did his best to casually ask what you were planning on doing in the future (not like he wanted to see if he could somehow fit into it, or whatever).

Jihoon was left staring at his phone screen, the weight of his phone now burdened by the weight of your choices. Seoul? Or New York City?

──────────────────

“You didn’t have to miss the dance just because I got a B on an exam, you know.”

“Your parents are insane for grounding you to the library for a B on an exam, you know? And for a hagwon that’s way above our grade level.”

You shook your head, not willing to admit out loud that you agreed. “What I mean is that you don’t have to keep me company while I study when you could go off and meet cute girls and sweep them off their feet.”

“Why would I do that when I can watch you and your snot-nosed face trying to do college level calculus?”

“It’s all so that I can get into Seoul National.”

“Firefly, you could get into any school, even outside Korea.”

“Maybe I’ll do just that,” you laughed. “Finally get out of here.”

“Just let me know and I’ll stow myself into your suitcase.”

“Oh please. You’ll probably be the one traveling internationally doing whatever you do. A world-renowned musician.”

“Alright, you can be in my suitcase instead then.”

“Okay, can you leave breathing holes for me?”

“No, get better lung capacity.”

You clicked your tongue at him and he laughed. “Seriously, though, Jihoonie. You could be spending your teen years the way the movies do it. You could be ‘swearing you’re infinite’ while a slow-mo cam focuses on you as you dance, surrounded by beautiful people definitely too old to be cast as teenagers.”

“No thanks.”

You put your forehead down onto the table. “Please. Do it for me. Get a girlfriend because I can’t.”

“You know, you’re probably why I can’t get a girlfriend.”

No. You definitely were.

You shot him an annoyed look. “You could easily go and find someone who’d be smitten with you. But instead you’re about to watch me get a nosebleed over how hard I’m working my brain here.”

“Maybe I’m a sadist and want to watch that happen.”

You threw your eraser at him, but easily missed, the rubber object bouncing off of the table and onto the carpeted floor. You whined at the idea of having to leave your seat and Jihoon just rolled his eyes and picked it up for you.

Sure, he could be dancing with his friends, with cute girls, with whoever. He could be surrounded by endless snacks and overly sweet punch, the dance no doubt smelling like youth and pride and reckless decisions. He would see that there are plenty of people in his life outside of you.

But, no.

If he did, you would be left here, in this almost deserted library on a Friday, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into what your parents have convinced you matters more than your health.

You gave him a large grin as he passed you your eraser before you went back to focusing on your work.

Yeah, he’d much rather see this instead.

──────────────────

Later that evening, he found himself again in his recording studio.

Our past that didn’t line up,

If I could go back in time,

Rather than roughly, but warmly,

Would I be able to let you go?

He stared at the lyrics he wrote, feeling discontent. He wanted to be the kind of person who didn’t feel any kind of residual emotions towards you. Who would be able to meet you where you were and wish you well, no matter where you decided to go.

One of his biggest regrets was storming out of your childhood home the way that he did. He could’ve had answers but instead he was left with hostile emotions and questions.

He could only hope he would’ve done something different.

But now that he is faced with letting you go, he’s not sure how easily he would yield.

He took a moment to bury his face in his hands and tried to think about this from your perspective (something he had to practice while living with twelve other boys). He breathed in deeply and thought about the you that you are now, about how the person he fell in love with could easily be gone, and you were nothing but a shadow of what remained.

But that didn’t feel right either. It seems as though the person that you’ve grown into, that you’ve flourished into, is someone he would’ve wanted to get to know regardless of whether you had history or not.

Perhaps that is because of the artifice of social media, or perhaps it’s because you carry an air of authenticity with you that has now been given the opportunity to bloom instead of stifled in the environment you were raised in. Whether or not you were mere remnants of his past, it does not mean that the person you are now is any less lovely.

He groaned loudly.

Emotional labor is hard.

How is this something you enjoy doing?

──────────────────

“You really want to become a social worker, huh?”

You shrugged. “I mean, yeah. It feels like the best use of my skills. I like being able to potentially help people like me and well, there are a lot of people like me, you know. I don’t know whether I want to become a private practice therapist, but that seems like a solid option for now until I know more about what else is out there in the field.”

He would disagree, but he decided not to. “I just can’t deal with all of those emotions.”

You gave him a raised eyebrow. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the most sensitive people that I know.”

Jihoon felt ruffled by that. “What? What are you talking about?”

You quickly put your hands up in mock defense. “I’m not saying that being sensitive is a bad thing. I’m saying that there’s no way you would be my friend if you couldn’t handle emotions. I have way too many of them, I’m not that blind to that. Also, I’ve read your poetry and heard your music and that’s some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. Like, even the way you hold your clarinet is emotional.”

“I think that’s you projecting yourself onto me.”

“Say what you want, Jihoon. You’re a sensitive soul, but I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Yeah, well, sensitivity isn’t what gets you awards, you know. Skill does.”

You huffed in response. “Yeah, well, once you build up the second, the first is what will create a legacy that will be one to remember for ages to come. I’m speaking it into existence now. And I lay claim to the title of being your first fan. I will support you the entire way, no matter what you do. Music, baseball, comedy. Whatever!”

Jihoon snorted. He wouldn’t dare become a comedian, but it made him feel good that you thought that was a viable prospect for him. “Whatever industry I’m in, I’ll probably have to protect you from all of the bad people. You’re too soft. Even just last week, I mean…”

“What? You mean, when Nahyun made fun of me during my presentation in front of everyone?”

Irritation washed over Jihoon.

The self-proclaimed It Girl decided to try and belittle you while in the middle of your presentation, as you were explaining the measurements that you used in your findings, she asked whether you had ‘measured’ your weight recently because ‘you really ought to’.

He never wanted to get into a fight more than then, especially when your other classmates laughed along. It was a subpar, typical, low-class mean girl line, but it filled him with rage.

You were completely unphased by it, continuing on with your presentation, not even choosing to spare a glance in her direction.

Luckily, the teacher, not being a prick himself, called out Nahyun and pulled her aside after class to apologize to you. (Jihoon would’ve preferred a public execution apology.)

Jihoon stood just a few feet away as you accepted her half-assed effort. You paused for a moment and muttered something to her, something that only she could hear. Nahyun merely pursed her lips afterwards before walking away. Irritation rushed through him again.

“Seriously, though. You’re too soft, firefly.”

“Hm. I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“No. I just think everyone else is too hard on themselves. And each other.”

“...You’re gonna be a great therapist.”

“Thanks. Hire me.”

──────────────────

Jihoon had his own fair share of meetings with professional counselors (especially in the midst of living such a hectic life as an idol), but he was worried whether you would be as cut and dry as they were, whittled down by years of academia. It seemed almost like they were reading out of a textbook, using vocabulary words like ‘empathy’ and ‘self-care,’ so he never saw it fit to return if it wasn’t necessary.

However, the places you’ve poured your time into left only glowing reviews for your passion and compassion for the field that you were in.

Jihoon was roused from his thoughts at his phone ringing on his desk. He looked at the Caller ID and saw a name he has been in and out of contact with for over a decade, it was your cousin. He picked it up. “Yo, hyung. What’s up?”

“Are you busy right now, Jihoon?”

“No. It’s a slower day today. Do you need something?”

“Yeah, just wanted to let you know that I’ll be in Seoul in a few weeks. Your noona and I are planning on celebrating saying goodbye to our single days by drinking way too much within the span of 12 or so hours. I wanted to see if you were down to join.”

“I probably won’t drink, but if it’s for you, hyung, I’ll go.”

“Nice. And you can feel free to leave after the dinner, we’ll just be at an apartment we’re renting out in Gangnam, since I don’t trust those fools to walk around the streets of Hongdae.”

“I’ll probably do that, I don't want to accidentally be caught by Dispatch.”

“Right, right. We wouldn’t want to sully the name of the best producer in all of K-Pop.”

“That’s a title I don’t think I’ll ever get.”

Your cousin laughed. “You never know, you might get that award sooner than you think, kiddo. Alright, I’ll keep you updated on our schedule. But uh…”

Jihoon knew his hyung well. He was about to bring you up again. “What about her?”

“I just wanted to ask whether you’d be interested in a meet-up with her. Not that we’ve asked her or anything, but I know we’ll probably meet up with her at some point, and I know it’ll feel weird if we’re not all together, you know? The four of us.”

“Yeah… I want to say that I’m courteous enough to wait for her response, but I just know that I’m willing to meet with her, if anything. Even just one last time.”

“That… sounds kinda sad, but. I guess I’ll take it. If you’re down, we could even make it a surprise on her end.”

He imagined your deer in headlights look but couldn’t think further than that. “Sounds like we’d really be putting her on the spot, if that was the case.”

“Hey, she’s rarely played it safe. Same with you. Might as well keep the flow going. And if anything, I’ll take the brunt of it all. She can’t stay mad at me for too long.”

“We both know that’s literally not true.”

“Okay, fine. Your noona can take the blame.”

“Wow, very excited to see how this marriage will go.”

His hyung laughed. “Amazingly, I’m sure.”

A thought occurred to Jihoon and he realized it was strange that he was mentioning it as an afterthought, as if it was something to be expected, something natural and normal. “Oh, hyung. By the way, I’m talking to Y/N again.”

Jihoon heard the undeniable ‘beep beep beep’ of being hung up and he stared confused at his phone screen until he saw another phone call from your cousin. He picked up with a, “Hello?”

Your cousin sounded much more flustered than he did just seconds ago. “Sorry. I hung up because I dropped my phone by accident. Say that again. You’re what?”

“I’m talking to her again. Kind of. I guess. Like, Instagram DMing went to KakaoTalk.”

“Jesus Christ, you slid into her DMs?”

“Can you not say it like that?”

“Can you say that that didn’t happen?”

Jihoon relayed the entire experience to him, only now realizing he didn’t even share all of the details with his members because it would’ve been too much teasing fodder from them. But your cousin, his hyung, was the kind of fellow that wouldn’t do that, even given the opportunity.

──────────────────

“Hyung,” Jihoon started one day, across from said person in a local Busan restaurant. “I don’t get how you’re single.”

“Why, you wanna date me?”

Jihoon’s eye twitched and your cousin laughed. Jihoon bit on his straw, the family style meal between the two young men long since devoured. “People compare us, you know.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “What’s there to compare?”

“I don’t know. So many people around us know how cool you are. You’re good at sports, you’re smart, you have a lot of friends, you’re handsome. Everyone always says you’re one of the best listeners they’ve ever met.”

“The trick is to not pay attention sometimes and just nod.”

“I’m gonna tell Y/N you said that.”

“I’m sure she knows,” he laughed. “Well, I'm honored that you think all of those things, but those are all traits you have too. You do realize that, right?”

Jihoon grunted. “Not… really.”

“Well, just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean others don’t. My cousin definitely does. She’s a good kid and has a good heart. Same with you. If you ever decide to do anything about those feelings of yours, just know that I approve.”

Jihoon nearly choked on his drink. “Wh–?”

“Oh, it was a secret?”

“Hyung!”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t say anything to her, don’t worry. And if you ask me, I’d say that you’re the only one on this planet that even has a chance. Well, except that girl from the cake shop.”

Jihoon sneered.

Fucking Woo Soyeon.

With her shiny hair and long eyelashes and doe eyes and tanned skin from her beach volleyball playing.

Giving out discounts to you like nobody’s business. Calling you cute and flirting nonstop while twirling a lock of her hair. Saying you’re her favorite customer. He could swear Woo Soyeon would throw a knowing smirk at him every time you stuttered a little too long when saying thank you.

That damned girl behind the counter, the one whose beauty and voice (“It’s just so velvety, you know? Like the chocolate cherry cakes.”) he knew you were smitten by.

She was even taller than him, especially in her heels.

At the ripe age of 15, Jihoon understood what jealousy was.

Because of fucking Woo Soyeon.

“Watch out, Jihoon. I can hear your thoughts all the way from over here.”

“Sorry.”

Your cousin laughed. “Trust me, you mean a lot more to her than cake counter girl. My cousin wanted all of us to go see the Christmas lights in the city together. You don’t see her inviting that cake counter girl, do you?”

Jihoon felt a weird sense of pride well up in his chest. Then immediately deflated. It felt stupid to feel like he won against a person who’s just trying to sell cakes to a loyal customer. “Hyung, how do you do it? You’d never let yourself get angry or jealous over stuff like this.”

The older of the two cocked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“You wouldn’t get jealous over a cake counter girl.”

“Says who? I get jealous. It’s normal, you know. Jealousy isn’t inherently a bad thing. It’s just what you do with it, right? Like, just because you’re jealous of cake counter girl, does that mean you stop Y/N from going to that shop?”

“What? Why would I do that? She loves that shop.”

“Exactly. Emotional maturity doesn’t mean you stop yourself from feeling the emotion, it just means you learn how to handle it as it comes. And once you practice it enough, it becomes easier and easier.”

“You make it sound easy, but it’s not.”

“Hey, I’m not anything big and special myself.”

Jihoon shook his head. “Hyung, you’re a superhuman.”

“No, I’m just human and letting myself be that,” he corrected. “Trust me, there’s plenty of good people out there. A lot of them just aren’t making the decision to do so. It’s easier to be cruel, but. I want to prove that you can be kind and still be a man. We get to define what that means. If I decided to be cruel, to become what society says is ‘a man,’ then I have no doubt Y/N would lose trust in me, and probably, all men.”

Jihoon noticed that his hyung stared at him for a second.

“Actually, maybe not all men.”

Jihoon felt embarrassed, but also honored, at the implication. “Thanks, hyung. You know, for not making fun of me. And for admitting that you also feel those kinds of things.”

“Absolutely, I’m glad I could help.”

“I’m seriously still surprised that you’re single.”

“Yeah, well. That might not always be the case if I can figure out what to do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well… you know your noona?”

──────────────────

Jihoon couldn’t help but shake his head at the way the events unfolded. Your cousin told him about his feelings for his future wife, but it still took a few years for anything to come out of that. He wondered whether being childhood friends had anything to do with it, as if the longer and deeper the bond, the riskier the chasm was to try to jump across.

However, your cousin still managed to do it.

“How did you do it, hyung?”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“Just… how did you manage to tell noona how you felt?”

The older man laughed. “You really think that it was me who confessed? No, no. It was her. I think she was tired of the back and forth that was happening between us. I mean, so was I, but I was a coward, but thankfully, she wasn’t. Now because of her saying that she loved me first, I get to be the one who says it last. Then we start again. It’s a dialogue, you see. It doesn’t matter who starts the line, as long as it continues.”

“Oh…”

“Am I proud that I was a coward? No. I sometimes wish it was me who said it first so she wouldn’t have any room for doubt. But we can’t go back and change the past, only commit to a better future. All of this to say, though, Jihoon, it’s been long enough of not saying anything between the two of you. I don’t think you want to wait any longer.”

“…yeah. I agree.”

That night, hours after preparing for the album, Jihoon’s fingers tapped away on his Notes app.

This waiting, it’s not easy to endure.

It was past 4am now.

But he didn’t want to wait any longer.

So, he switched apps and instead of a blank Note, he began typing into a message box.

i know its late. rehearsal never ends until 3am and i know that when u get texts you wake up even if ur phone is on silent bc the vibration wakes u up so im trying to type this all in one message so that it doesnt wake u up (hopefully) but i didnt want it to seem like i left u on read because i was upset or something. but i didnt want to message until i had the time to have a full conversation but i dont think thats happening any time soon anyway. when you see this i hope it makes sense im not sure if i am

A response from you was the last thing he expected, but you always managed to surprise him.

The first time he heard your voice directly in his ears, he thought he was going to spontaneously combust. But he tried to keep his voice level as he asked you about where you were leaning towards for your career.

The relief that rushed through him.

The hope that ignited in him.

That was the spark needed for him to explode.

And so he did, into words.

“I’m proud of you, you know?”

He heard your throaty stutter, one that only came out whenever you were really caught off guard. “Uh—what?”

“You got a whole ass PhD. From the best university in Korea,” Jihoon still couldn’t believe the two of you went to the same school. “You got offered a job at a super big school in America. One that’s super big in the field that you studied. You graduated from an even school for undergrad, a school that even I know the name of. And just… I know that people expect you to achieve because you’ve always been a genius, always so brilliant, but. You also work really hard. So I’m proud of you.”

He could barely hear your, “It’s not that big of a deal—” over the pounding in his ears.

“But it is, firefly.”

And suddenly he was brought back to all the years before. Where he spent more years in love with you than not. How that nickname encapsulated exactly as he saw you: inspiration, guidance, hope.

“I mean, I just—”

Your flustered response only encouraged him to continue. “You don’t have to believe me. But that won’t stop me from feeling it.”

“Jihoon, I—”

He didn’t realize just how much he’s missed hearing you say his name. But more than that, “I’ve missed you.”

There was a pause on your end, but he was done with his.

“I’ve missed you a stupid amount. Like us stealing your dad’s car to drive to McDonald’s at 3am and then running a red light on the way there. And then somehow almost hitting an entire flock of seagulls—” which he would never admit to being the reason he never wants to get behind the wheel again. “And then going to some random, deserted parking lot. And then realizing we didn’t know the way home, so we drove aimlessly, for, like, 45 minutes. And then panicking when we kept seeing the gas needle going down. That kind of stupid.”

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he was naming a memory that you no doubt remember as well, it was near traumatizing. But there was something in him that didn’t want you to forget. He didn’t want himself to forget. Because…

If I forget someday, as if nothing is wrong,

Our future will be empty and sad.

It’s not that I want to forget you.

Ah, he made a mental note to switch to his Notes app later.

“I… I missed you too.”

Jihoon couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his cheeks, almost to the point of straining them. It was already so late and he still had enough function in his brain to know he ought to cut this short now. Otherwise, he’d be on the phone with you for an ungodly amount of time. “I have to sleep now, but. I just. I couldn’t not tell you. That’s all.”

“Okay.” Your voice sounded so small, he had to press his phone closer to his ear to ensure he didn’t miss anything.

“Get some sleep, firefly. Or should I call you, Dr. Firefly now?”

“That sounds like a cartoon villain.”

He laughed hard at that. You would say that. “Alright, we’ll just go with firefly then.”

‘We’ felt good on his tongue.

“Night, night, Jihoonie.”

“Sleep well, firefly.”

He told you he needed to sleep, but with the way that he was running on sheer endorphins from finally releasing some of that pressure inside of him, sleep was the furthest thing on his mind. Instead, he imagined you getting some well-deserved rest, wondering what kind of dreams you hoped to have.

You were falling asleep, he was falling in love.

──────────────────

In less than 24 hours, he was going to see you in person for the first time in years, no more needing to find YouTube videos or podcasts or news articles or social media posts.

Tomorrow, he’ll be face to face with you.

And the dorm was in chaos.

“He should wear the white button down!”

“No, he should wear something funky, with cool patterns!”

“What? Absolutely not, hyung! Jihoon-hyung looks best in plain clothing, his skin shines that way!”

“Well, he’s been avoiding his skincare, so that might not be the best route to go down.”

“Hoon is handsome no matter what!”

Jihoon was exhausted. Why were his members more invested in this than he was?

Even Soonyoung was getting giddy. And that was a problem. When it came to you, Soonyoung was his voice of reason, but after he relayed the phone call he had with you, Soonyoung was easily won over by your: ‘I missed you too.’

“I knew it!” The tiger had exclaimed.

(Jihoon wasn’t sure whether he did.)

Junhui was thriving off of the chaos and was now leaping across the wooden floor, with Jeonghan quickly on his tail, trying to coerce him into stopping and failing miserably. Seokmin was still trying to convince Seungkwan that a funky pattern was like how, in nature, peacocks showed off to their mates—“he’s not a bird, hyung!”—while Soonyoung kept interjecting saying that Jihoon was attractive no matter what so he could just wear a plastic bag (which earned him a gentle slap by Seokmin). Mingyu disappeared for a moment after Wonwoo’s off-handed comment about Jihoon’s skin, only to return with his skincare products that Jihoon knew were going to be slapped on him soon enough. Seungcheol kept repeating in an exasperated tone, “Stop fighting, we already got a noise complaint this week,” while Jisoo and Minghao were probably off in Jihoon’s closet trying to establish an outfit for him without his consent. Hansol was on his phone, noise-canceling earphones on, completely uninvolved in what was going on. Chan was only goading on whoever was the loudest in the moment (currently, Junhui).

Jihoon piped up. “Do I get an opinion on this?”

In near perfect synchronization (including the boys in his room), everyone responded with a, “No!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

God, tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

[continue reading here]

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littlepolinlover · 5 months ago

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I have started a new fic for Polin. Not even the one I intended to start. I have absolutely no idea of what it’s about or where it’s going, but it’s going.

It’s modern AU set sometime after Colin and Penelope are married. Colin is a singer and she writes for a fashion magazine called Lady Whistledown (original, I know 🤪). I’m almost certain I’m gonna fuck it up and do some damage before making it all good again cause that’s how I’m feeling rn, but when it’s ready to be posted— I’ll post it in full on ao3.

“Ladies, do you mind if I borrow my darling wife for a few moments?”

“Colin if you try to shag her in the toilet while we’re still here– I will make sure you never have the children I know you’re aiming for.” Eloise threatens him, and he rolls his eyes at her, and reaches for Pen’s hand. She sets her glass of wine down and takes his hand and lets him lead her to their bedroom.

His lips descended upon hers as soon as she closed the door behind them. He spun them around so he could press her up against the door. She let out a tiny moan as his hand started to run up her thigh– stopping when her hand reached out for his. As much as she would love to continue this, they had company.

“No, Pen– I haven't gotten to touch you all day.”

“You literally accosted me in the shower this morning,” she laughed, pushing at his wandering hand. They really couldn’t. They had company present. There was no way in hell she was allowing that to happen. He could wait until everyone had gone home.

“And you made me late for my meeting, and the boys were giving me shit for it.” Colin pointed out and she shook her head at him, reaching for his hand and tangling her fingers with his. He was correct, essentially– she did make him late, but he started it.

They had barely woken up when he pressed into her backside, pressing his morning wood into her. And she wasn’t wearing clothes, as they had fallen asleep after a rather adventurous round the previous night.

He pressed into her, and she wasn’t inclined to not have a very good morning. Then, they were in the shower, and she was trying to shower, but the erection pressed into her backside again as she washed her hair, his lips on her neck, and she spun around and dropped to her knees. It was his own fault he was late.

“It was only a few hours,” she pushed them away from the door. She turned to open it. “It couldn’t have been that hard.”

He grinned at her, his eyes darkening a moment as he took their clasped hand and pressed it against the front of his trousers. “Do you have an idea of how hard it was today?”

“Colin!” She yelped as she felt the hardness of him underneath her hand. She could feel him pulse in her hand, and then she heard laughter coming from the kitchen and she regretfully removed her hand from his person.

“Maybe I can help you out with that later.” She leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I need to get back out there.”

“You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

Her laughter is all he heard when the door opened and then closed with her leaving him in the bedroom alone. She was pure evil that one.

#shadowsfictionwrites #bridgerton #polin #polin fanfiction #I love a good AU #modern AU Bridgerton #penelope x colin #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #penelope bridgerton

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joelscruff · 6 months ago

Note

Just curious but what are the WIPs you have brewing up? Can’t wait to see more from you <3

i have so many WIPs at the moment 😭 my current dilemma is having all these ideas but for some reason having no brain power to actually write any of them (except for the last one on this list 👀)

feelings on fire chapter 11 & beyond - i'm in a weird place with fof at the moment. i love these two so much and i have their whole story planned out (even further than you might think) and i do plan on finishing it, but right now it's just not flowing for me. it's affecting my other writing too because i just feel this immense pressure to get it done and because of that, i tend to guilt myself out of working on anything else. it's been a struggle lmao. but i'm trying. i go into the draft whenever i have a little bit of motivation.

darkness hums (next to freeze or to thaw installment) - joel's going on the raid so you're left behind with tommy 👀 i'll get this done eventually lmao i have to be in the right mood to work on this series

beautiful stranger - this is my joel x escort!reader fic that i still feel SO passionate about but haven't finished. featuring an insecure & out of practice joel + lots and lots of joel worship. again, it'll get done, just not sure when.

pick my petals off - THIS fic has been in developmental hell for a long time lmao. dbf!joel, very very pervy and coercive who wants to sleep with you before you go away for college. huge age gap obviously, very filthy. it's actually a series so i haven't had much time to really focus on it. will i ever write it? we'll see lmao

stray animal - can't say too much about this. but. VERY dark fic. kinda fucked up. involves a glory hole. stepdad!joel. we'll see what happens lol

untitled best friend's dad!joel fic - this is my current passion project, i'll be honest. been thinking about it for a long time and would really like to start writing it soon. it's a series though so i'd like to have most - if not all - of it written before i start posting it. it takes place in jackson and you're ellie's best friend. you have a crush on joel, he doesn't see you that way. but then something happens and you end up growing closer, very slowburn. i've also been referring to it as touch starved!reader fic lol. han @swiftispunk has heard alllllllllll about it

imperfect for you - a drabble i'm writing for @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge!! it's joel + nose kiss 🥰 hope to have this up soon, it's kinda taken a backseat because i suddenly got inspiration to write something else.....↓

⭐is it that sweet? - this one's coming tonight most likely, so i won't say too much 👀 pervy!joel + the beach ⭐

so yeah. a lot. i mean, this doesn't even include ideas that are only living in my brain rn and not a draft, like a sequel to my boss!dave york fic and a threesome sequel to my frankie fic one of your girls, more of my boyfriend's dad!joel (believe it or not, i do intend to return to these two eventually. i miss them v much), etc. i feel like sometimes readers might think that just because an author hasn't posted for a while they maybe have lost interest in their fics/writing/fandom/etc, but it really couldn't be further from the truth lmao. i have so many ideas and i'm constantly writing things down, it's just actually turning them into fics that i've been struggling with lately. bear with me 💖 and thank you for asking!

#cat's asks

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pedroshotwifey · 1 year ago

Text

Joel Fucking Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (Can be pictured as either HBO or Video Game version)

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, Smut with a lil garnish of angst, kinda mean Joel, Borderline Dark!Joel, but consent is given at a point, one singular spank, rough piv sex, exhibition kink, slight humiliation/degradation, possessive behavior, enemies to lovers-ish?, reader is a menace but we love her, spit kink, anal play, this is pure filth and I'm not sorry

Summary: You and Joel Miller have been sworn enemies from the very start, both of you at each other’s other's throats since the first glance. What he can't know is that you have been harboring a stubborn crush on him this whole time---It’s not until he has you up against a wall that you realize he feels the same way.

A/N: Now that I have all of my one-shots posted, I'm going to start posting my ongoing stories as well as some new works. I'm almost finished with the Frankie Sex Pollen fic so that will be posted sometime this week. I will also be working on creating both a masterlist and a recommendation list, so hopefully that should be done soon too. Thanks for reading!

***

Today has been a shitty fucking day—no pun intended.

Not to say every day isn’t shitty here in the QZ, but this one really takes the cake. To start your fabulous day, you woke up an hour late, making you one of the last people in line to pick up jobs. When you got to the assigning station, you found that you had been left with two options for the week: janitorial service at one of the mess halls, and sewer duty—where you literally have to shovel shit. The only card left for the mess hall was an all-day shift. You took them both.

That's why you find yourself here now, below the city, finishing up sewer duty, covered head to toe in stench and sweat even though it’s the middle of winter. You’re pretty sure you are the last one down here; it’s been a while since you saw or heard anyone else. You aren’t surprised. You’re used to being the only one who cares enough to actually finish whatever job you were tasked with that day, no matter how repulsive it may be.

You don't take pride in much, but you are willing to admit that you admire that quality about yourself. You are a damn hard worker and you aren’t afraid to show it. You have no idea where it stems from, maybe your stubbornness, or possibly your inner perfectionist. Whatever it is, you find yourself often wishing that more people would have the same mindset. God knows it would make your life easier at the very least. In the time you have spent in the Boston QZ, you have only had the pleasure—or maybe you should say displeasure—of meeting one other like-minded person.

You became acquainted with Joel Miller within the first day of being in the QZ, which was about three years ago now. The first glance you got of him was as you were being hauled through the gates, lucky enough to have not been shot on the spot when a couple of FEDRA officers caught you hiding out in the woods. Your eyes met his before they met anyone else's, and he’d held your gaze, his expression anything but welcome, as if he were trying to evaluate you with one look.

By the looks of it, he had to be at least a couple of decades older than you, but that didn’t stop the heat that started to simmer between your legs at the first glance you got of him. When his eyes didn't leave yours, you took it as a challenge and forced yourself to keep your gaze on him until he was completely out of sight. You knew what you were doing, and so did he, both of you deciding on the spot that you would be enemies until one of you either died or left.

Sure, you knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to piss people off before you made any allies, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. From the first second you saw that man, you knew that one way or the other—one of them being a heated feeling you chose to ignore—he would be trouble. As per usual, you were right. If you didn't know any better, you would have said that he was dead-set on following you around, bumping into you at almost every job you took. At first, you had been convinced that he had been doing just that.

The first couple of times it happened you considered it some stupid coincidence, some twisted kind of unluckiness. Granted, it wasn't every time, but it was more often than not, and that was more than enough for you. By the fifth or sixth time out of ten, you waited until the very end of the shift, until it was only Joel and yourself left working. You kept a close eye on him, and as soon as he started wrapping up, you cornered him. That had been the first time that you had ever actually spoken to each other instead of tossing nasty glances back and forth.

You had immediately gone to work with your rushed interrogation, demanding him to tell you why he was following you, to tell you what his problem was. The most frustrating part of the whole ordeal was the way he had sat back, leaning on one leg with his arms crossed, his expression bored as he waited for you to finish. He said nothing until he was positive that you had nothing more to say.

“I ain't followin’ you, kid,'' he had said, his voice deep and more pleasant than you would have liked it to be. His tone was hard, as you had expected it would be, but the tangy southern drawl and depth of his voice took you off guard, an unwelcome heat suddenly forming between your legs—which only pissed you off more.

The stone-cold look in his too-pretty eyes only worsened the feeling, and suddenly you found that you weren't able to speak; you didn't even know what you had come up to say at this point. “Don’t fuckin’ bother me again,” he muttered and pushed past you before you could realize you had been staring.

***

“You just gonna fuckin’ stand there all day?” A much too familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts and back into reality. Speak of the fucking devil.

“Just finishing up, Miller,” you spit, not bothering to look in his direction. You can hear him start to walk up to you but you ignore it, opting instead to actually finish what you had been doing. It only takes a few more seconds, and by that time, you can practically feel Joel staring a hole into your back, no more than a few feet behind you now.

He doesn't move, so you continue to ignore him and start walking to the ladder so you can get out of this literal shit hole. You only make it a few steps before you realize that he is moving with you, following at the same distance he had stopped at before. Your jaw ticks as you spin around on your heel, so suddenly that Joel almost knocks into you.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you ask him as sweetly as you can manage, the fire in your eyes contradicting your tone. His own eyes narrow as he takes a step back, crossing his arms in his usual fashion.

“Maybe you should learn how to help yourself first before you go offerin’ it to other people, princess.” He says the name as an insult, and you have to bare your teeth to keep your composure.

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean, old man?” You ask him, taking a step toward him. He doesn't back away this time, instead taking a step toward you in reciprocation. The two of you lock gazes and stare at each other for what could have been ten seconds or ten days before Joel breaks the trance and shoves past you instead of answering.

You just stand there and let him climb the ladder to the street above you. You can see right through him, the asshole wants a reaction, and you're not going to grant him that satisfaction—not this time anyway.

You wait for a few minutes until you can be sure that he's long gone before you grit your teeth and turn on your heel, walking to the ladder and hoisting yourself up. As you reach the surface you catch a whiff of yourself and scrunch your nose. You need a fucking shower.

***

The next day, you wake up in a sour mood, already dreading today's job—janitorial services. At least it's not scooping shit this time. You’re the first one there, as per usual. The hall is a mess after breakfast and you take a deep breath as you think about the fact that even after you scrub it spotless, it will be trashed again by the end of lunch and then again after dinner.

To top it all off, it's ridiculously cold in the room, the fire lit in the back of it not doing much to increase the temperature. You look down at your white cotton t-shirt under your flannel and find yourself wishing you had put a thicker undershirt on.

There aren't many people working with you on the first shift, only the usual other three this morning, not that you're complaining of course, it just means fewer people to get in your way. You keep your eyes to yourself most of the time, only looking at someone if they address you to ask for help or to comment on something. Before you know it, lunch has come and gone and you are preparing for dinner.

You notice halfway through that time that your friend is working the second shift, and she approaches you so you can work together for the rest of the time, though she only has the after-lunch shift. Rachel is a hard worker for the most part, though she likes to slack off a lot, but you appreciate the help while you have it. The two of you gossip and joke quietly until it's time for her to leave and time for you to sit back and wait for the dinner crowd to flood in.

***

It feels like a week has passed by the time the last person clears out after dinner, and you breathe a sigh of relief—you’re so close to getting back to your apartment and into your welcoming bed. You immediately get to work on sweeping up the trash that collected underneath the tables, eager to get out of here.

There are only two other people working with you this shift, which is weird because FEDRA usually has at least four people on each job, but you brush it off. They seemed to know each other and they blab amongst themselves as they work. At least the couple seemed like they were in the same mindset when it came to getting this job done, so you didn’t mind the fact that you are missing a crew member.

Halfway through your sweeping, you hear the door slam open, startling you and the couple that is now busy with taking leftover dishes into the kitchen. The chill that sweeps through the large room makes you assume it was just a gust of wind, probably blowing snow into the doorway.

Great, something else to clean, you think as you huff an annoyed breath.

When you turn to face the sound though, you find yourself wishing that the problem had been snow, but of course, when did anything ever go your way? The supposed gust of wind is actually Joel fucking Miller.

Your mood immediately sours and you have to fight not to roll your eyes as you watch him slink into the room and follow the couple into the kitchen. You hear the girl inform him that he was late—as if he didn’t know, or care for that matter. He only grunts in response. You don’t bother to stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. If Joel sees it, he doesn't say anything.

***

An hour later, Joel hasn’t bothered you, much to your relief. The only time you have to look up from your work is when the couple from earlier bids you farewell before they walk out the door. There is nothing left to do but scrub the tables, which you are doing now.

You only have two to go, and then you’re free for the rest of the night. Now that you're the only one left, the room is almost eerily silent, the only sound being the drip of water as you dip your sponge into the bucket and wring it out. After the table you are working on is thoroughly cleaned, you move on to the last one. It sits right next to the busted window, and you shiver as you walk past it.

“Cold, sweetheart?” The baritone voice sounding from behind you just about causes you to jump out of your skin, the bucket of water in your grasp suddenly spilling over your front. Of course, it was a huge fucking bucket, so it was enough water to coat almost your entire body.

The white t-shirt you have on under your thick flannel is soaked through so that it’s practically transparent. Dropping the now empty tub to the floor with a loud clang, you swivel on your heel to face Joel, who is leaning against the wall to his right, arms crossed.

If he sees the fire in your eyes, he ignores it as he smirks at you, obviously humored by your reaction—and likely by the fact that he can see your bra. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, every expletive or reprimand that comes to mind doesn’t seem to cover what you want to say.

As you stand there soaked in dirty, soapy water, you find that you can do nothing but stare. Your gaze is stuck on the man still standing in front of you, not a twinge of empathy in his own, which he has trained on you in return. You have no idea how long the two of you stay rooted to the same spots, staring each other down, but it must have been at least a few minutes because you can feel your body start to involuntarily shiver as your drenched form begins to freeze.

Of fucking course you had to have been standing right next to the broken, half-assed boarded-up window, and not by the fire that still rages into the chimney on the other side of the room.

The cool air sweeping in seems to trap you in its frigid grasp, threatening to turn the grayish liquid that covers you into ice. You can't help it as you finally move, bringing your arms up to cross over your chest in a feeble attempt to warm your rapidly cooling body and cover your exposed undergarment. You flinch as your arm presses the freezing fabric closer to your skin.

The action seems to break the invisible spell that had set over the two of you because Joel takes that as his queue to take a step back off the wall and lift his chin. The movement makes him look bigger and you have to lift your own to look into his eyes again. You can only hope he sees the fury that burns on your own. If looks could kill, he would be dead on the floor right now.

“You’re fucking joking,” you are the first to break the silence. The quiver in your voice would be embarrassing if not for the fact that it was placed there out of anger. The asshole who put it there must know it too because you can see the way he swallows as if trying to rid himself of his guilt, though if that’s what he is feeling, he doesn’t show it any other way.

You can expect that the action will be the only sign of such a thing—if Joel Miller doesn't want to feel a certain way, he doesn’t, simple as that. You have never once met a man more rude, nor stubborn as the one currently in front of you.

“Didn’t realize I was bein’ funny,” he says, straight-faced with that stupid southern drawl that you have come to despise. You don’t reply as you continue to stare daggers at him, and you can't tell what’s making you shake more at this point—the layer of fucking ice about to coat your body, or the unmatched rage that brews in your mind.

Right now, you would place your bets on the rage, considering it’s actually starting to warm you up. The sight of Joel, arms crossed to mimic your own, still staring down at you like he's some fucking god, only fuels the feeling. Sighing quietly, your eyes shut as you try to calm yourself down before you say something you would really regret. It only takes a few seconds until you speak again, which might not have been long enough, truthfully speaking.

“That was pretty fucking shitty, even for you, Miller.” You manage to get the sentence out through gritted teeth, but it sounds strained. Anyone would agree that it sounds like you are trying your best to contain yourself, though it’s obviously a task you are struggling with. He says nothing, and his body gives nothing away, so you speak again. He knew exactly what was going to happen if he snuck up on you like that, and he probably didn’t even give it a second thought.

“I mean really, how fucking immature can you be? You really thought scaring me while I was holding a tub of dirty water was the best way to get my attention?” Your mouth starts to let words out before you can even think about what threatens to escape, and there is nothing you can really do but allow it to happen.

Your lips are moving far too quickly for your brain to comprehend at this point, your anger completely taking over. As hard as it can be to hold yourself back from an argument sometimes, you always managed—but this was the last fucking straw.

“And why the fuck are you even here? You obviously don’t have anything left to do.” Your voice is quickly raising but you doubt you could do anything about that even if you wanted to right now. Of course, it doesn’t matter how loud you get, you could probably scream right in his face, it never seems to affect him.

“Seemed lonely,” he says simply, shrugging and shifting off of the wall. He looks at your bewildered expression and decides it would somehow make it better if he elaborated, though you both know that he only does it to dig further under your skin.

“Never got anyone around, s’ all. Too fuckin’ stubborn n’ self-absorbed to make any friends.” His tone is condescending and nonchalant at the same time, like he is both stating a fact and trying to beat you down. You continue to stare at him as he finishes. This is a whole new level, one you wouldn’t even have assumed Joel would ever jump to.

You’ll admit it, he’s managed to find one of your most delicate insecurities, and he knows it, too. Even before the outbreak, you always had trouble making friends, your anxiety and general mistrust always got in the way. Every time you thought you were getting close to someone, you would push them away. It was your biggest fear, being betrayed by someone close to you—a worse fear, you decided, than being alone.

To this day, you have only ever let one person really get to know you. When you met Rachel during your first week in the QZ, she showed you a sort of open kindness that let you know she was a good one. You knew then, and you know now, that she would never do anything to hurt you in any way.

In the time that you've gotten to know her, she’s become the best friend you’ve ever had, and the only one you wanted. But she is only one person after all, and she can’t spend all of her time with you, so you find yourself on your own most of the time—and of course, Joel Miller, of all people, would pick up on it.

“You are such an asshole, Joel,” you spew out after a moment. “And you have the audacity to call me lonely?” You can't help the tears that start to blur your vision, so you ignore them as you continue to rant, your hands now flying wildly. The pit of insecurity in your stomach is starting to grow to the point where you feel like it will swallow you whole.

“You act like you’re so much fucking better than me! Who do you have?” Through your watering eyes, you can see the way Joel flinches slightly, and as much as it pleases you that you seem to have finally found a soft spot, it also eggs you on. You recognize it and think to yourself that he's a fucking idiot for pointing out the fact that you don’t have anyone in your corner when he has the same exact problem.

“Huh? You say I'm alone, and maybe I am, but I’ve never seen you with anybody.” Your vision starts to clear as you feel hot tears begin to streak down your already-soaked cheeks, allowing you to see the deep scowl set on Joel's face. It almost scares you how mad he looks, but it's too late to back down now.

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something, but it never comes. His silence only encourages you, and you know you probably seem immature as you continue to insult him, but it gets pushed to the back of your mind as you quickly realize it’s the least of your worries right now. Your tears are streaming freely at this point, your breaking point finally has been reached. The words are coming out faster than you care to stop them.

“You have no fucking friends, Joel,” you spit out. That one definitely struck a nerve, and you watch as he takes a step towards you, his face giving you a warning expression as if he already knows what you are going to say next. You know his history, and you know it's a bad idea, you know it is, but you say it anyway.

“You have no friends…” You pause, your brain subconsciously trying to talk you out of what you’re about to do. Of course, you don't listen. “...and you have no fucking famil-” you get cut off as Joels hand makes contact with your throat, his grip crushing your windpipe as he pushes you back until you hit the wall and lifts you onto your toes so you are looking into his rage-filled eyes.

He says nothing for a moment as he lets you struggle in his firm grasp, watching you writhe and try to gulp in air. The panic that courses through your body is almost paralyzing, sending a hot flash throughout your entire body as your brain catches up with what's happening.

You find yourself panicking even more when you realize that fear isn’t the only thing your senses seem to be overwhelmed with as his hand tightens around your neck. The wetness beginning to gather in your panties is suddenly the biggest problem you are faced with, an unwelcome feeling or arousal suddenly making itself known.

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion as you feel your hands start to claw at the one wrapped around your neck, no doubt leaving raised scratch marks across his wrist. The man doesn't wince or falter though, as you struggle to try to pry his hand away. You can feel your mouth opening and closing, though you’re unsure of what you are trying to say. You suspect it's something along the lines of “Please”, but no sound comes out.

Eventually, after you realize that nothing is going to come from your struggle, you let your body fall limp, the only movement left is the tears that still crawl tauntingly down your cheeks. Though some of them may still be from the anger that had overcome you before you felt his large palm on your throat, most of them are now evidence of your shame.

Logically, you reason that there is no way for him to know what kind of response his aggressive actions pulled from you, but you can't help but feel like somehow, he can see right through you.

Upon seeing you submit, Joel lifts you more until you are close enough to feel his hot breath fan across your face. He loosens his grip enough so that you are allowed to catch a breath, but not enough for you to fall away from him. He starts to lower his arm, letting your feet hit the ground, but he leans his body down with your own so that his face stays less than an inch away from your own the entire time.

You know that realistically, he only had you in the air for a few seconds, but it felt like an hour with the fear—and unexpected lust—that was coursing through your veins. Though you are still trembling with the silent threat he delivered, you seem to be able to calm down a little as his hand loosens and slides around to the back of your neck, only holding you in place.

You stare into his eyes because you have nowhere else to look, and are almost surprised to see the array of emotions on display. You see anger, impatience, annoyance, a hint of restraint, but the one that seems to dominate them all is the one that takes you aback the most. You see in his eyes, what must be a reflection of your own.

Your mouth drops open again as you begin to place the look of longing and desire that burns in Joel's gaze as he stares you down, his mouth just centimeters from your own. You take a chance and allow yourself to look down at the way his lips almost brush yours, his own mouth parted as you both try to calm your ragged breathing.

You have no idea why you suddenly feel this way—well, you do, you just refuse to admit it. You hate his fucking guts because he is the only man that has made you feel something since before the outbreak. Every time you look at him, it is evidence that you are still capable of letting your guard down, that you are still weak.

You promised yourself the first time you understood what the potential problem with Joel Miller could be, that you wouldn’t allow it to become one. But this god-damned man makes it so fucking hard to keep that in check when he is staring at you like he wants to ruin you.

You feel his hand tighten around you again, and you snap your eyes back up to his, suddenly blushing as you realize that you have been staring at his lips for far too long. For once, you are at a loss for words, you have no idea what to say that might save your ass from looking like you had been doing exactly what you had. Thankfully, you don't have to wonder for long because Joel cuts right back to the chase, seemingly shaking himself out of his own thoughts as he speaks again.

“You want to try that again, little girl?” Fuck. How the fuck are you supposed to ignore the pit forming in your stomach when he says shit like that? You are too caught up in thinking of a response to answer him immediately, and he clearly doesn’t appreciate that as he shifts his position, pushing you back further into the wall behind you.

When he moves, you realize that one of his legs is slotted between your own, and your eyes widen as you feel how close his thigh is to your center—one little movement and you will give yourself away. You must be dripping at this point, and if he's not close enough to feel the heat coming off your cunt from where he stands right now, he will be if he moves any closer.

Steeling yourself, you opt not to speak as you bring your hands back up to grasp at his wrist again. Joel watches as you struggle to get a grip before he growls and uses his free hand to grab both of yours and place them on the wall above your head. Your eyes somehow widen even more and you want to shrivel up into a ball as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

You need to move now. You can't let this man see what he does to you, the way your body reacts to the way he so easily dominates you. You know that you have no time to plan anything out, so you do the first thing that comes to mind—you try to tug your hands out of his grip and you lunge to the side.

You’re not sure why you even attempt it, you know that it won't get you anywhere, but you do it anyway. Of course, he overpowers you once again, and nothing changes but his grip, both of his hands tightening as he leans in even closer to you. The new position causes his thigh to crush into your throbbing clit, and before you can stop it, a whimper breaks through your lips.

Nothing is said for a moment as you stare at Joel with shame, and him at you with a newfound amusement. You can feel yourself melting on the spot, and you let your head hang in humiliation, your eyes trained on the ground next to Joel, who is now smirking as he stares back at you. You feel his thigh crush into you again, deliberately this time, and you have to bite your lip and close your eyes in concentration so as to not give away any more sounds.

You hear Joel chuckle darkly above you, and the sound goes straight to your pussy. How are you supposed to resist this man when he sounds like that, when the rough denim of his jeans is rubbing you in all the right places as he begins to rock his thigh back and forth, making you bite your lip even harder. The hand on your neck suddenly releases its grip and you feel his thumb come to your mouth, tugging your bottom lip until it falls away from the punishing bite of your teeth.

“C’mon now, princess,” you hear Joel speak again and you can't help but moan softly as he sets his hand on your hip, starting to guide you across his firm thigh.

“You’ve given yourself away now, you ain’t gonna get outta this one.” His tone is taunting as he presses down on your hip, bringing you down harder against him.

The pressure on your clit is almost overwhelming with pleasure, and you find yourself moving on your own, beginning to chase the orgasm that has suddenly come within your grasp. You can’t help it with the way your wet jeans rub you just right and the firmness of his thigh is just enough to push the seam of them onto all the right places.

“F-fuck you, Miller,” you say, opening your eyes and bringing your head back up to look into his eyes, hoping the anger is apparent in yours. He stares at you for a moment before he speaks again.

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he moves his hand down to where your cunt meets his thigh, and places his thumb right on your clit, rubbing quick circles. The touch is all you need to send you over the edge, becoming a moaning mess under Joel’s body. He’s right of course, you want him to fucking ruin you. God, you hate it when he’s right.

He continues the circles on your clit as you come down from your high, riding you through it. When you are finally able to catch your breath, you look him in the eye to find him staring right back at you. His gaze is intense and full of want.

“You want me to quit, darlin?” You can tell by the way he says it, that he asks genuinely. He would stop if you said the word. As much as you want to hate him, you know that he is respectful enough that he wouldn’t do anything to that effect without your consent.

Joel may be an asshole, but he would never put his hands on a woman in that sense if she showed any sign of resistance. Though he didn’t seem to have a problem with wrapping his palm around your throat.

“I can give you more, all you have to do is ask,” Joel says after you don't answer him. His gaze is hungry as he waits for your consent, his eyes slowly tracing up and down your body, taking you in. When he looks back to your face, you nod slowly, watching as his already blown-out pupils seem to take over his irises.

“I'm gonna need to hear you say it, darlin,” he says as he brings his chin up to the side of your head, nibbling your earlobe and making you shiver.

“P-please, Joel,” you say, giving up the act. You know you want him, he knows you want him, and now you know he wants you, too.

“I need you, please.” At your signal, he doesn't wait any longer as he starts to pull you away from the wall, his free hand traveling back to the back of your neck, the other still grasping your wrists. Before you can figure out where he’s moving you to, your chest slams onto one of the tables, the force almost enough to knock the wind out of you. You had expected him to be rough, but not this rough… not that you mind. He’s clearly done with being gentle with you now that he has free reign.

“Jesus, Joel,” you say, throwing him a look over your shoulder as much as you can with your neck still being pinned down.

“You fucking mind?” You hear Joel chuckle behind you and feel him step closer to you, pressing himself against your ass and leaning over so that his chest is flush with your back.

“Nope, not at all.” His breath tickles your ear as he whispers into it.

“Now I'd be quiet if I were you, girl,” he tells you, his tone almost threatening. “Unless you want to wake the whole town, of course, cause now that I’ve started, I ain't gonna stop.” Your eyes widen and a whimper falls from your lips as he finishes his threat and pushes his top half off of you.

“Maybe you’d like that, huh, little girl?” he pauses his sentence to rip your pants and panties down in one fluid motion, making you cry out.

“Let the whole town watch me fuck you, show everyone who you belong to, who this cunt belongs to.” He knows you too fucking well, knows that you’re thinking about it now, salivating over the thought of someone walking in on you like this, your pants around your ankles, him, balls deep inside of you, taking what he wants.

“Dirty little girl, out here whorin’ herself out to me so quick. Slut’s just damn desperate for some good fuckin’ cock.”

You hear a sharp zip from somewhere behind you and you struggle out of instinct, pushing up on the hand holding you down. He ignores your protest and slams himself into you, sheathing himself in one fluid motion, giving you no warm-up or time to adjust.

You expected him to be big, but you weren't expecting this. He's fucking huge, stretching you out and reaching depths you didn't even know existed. You scream out at the sudden burning intrusion and Joel moves the hand that isn't on your neck to your mouth, silencing you halfway through the outburst.

The tears that fall from your eyes catch on the palm of his hand as he brings his cock almost all the way out before slamming himself back in, setting a brutal pace.

“Tha’s alright baby, Ima take good care of you,” Joel assures you through gritted teeth. “Make you feel real good creamin’ all over my fat cock.”

Your fingernails scrape the surface of the table once he releases your hands, scrambling for purchase as Joel slams into you without remorse. You’re almost surprised at how quickly you feel the knot in your stomach start to build back up, the pain promptly turning to pleasure as Joel brutally shoves his cock into your already-sore pussy.

The sounds of Joel's grunts, your muffled sobs, and the squelching of your cunt quickly fill the room, you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so cock-drunk on Joel. Right now, the only thing you can focus on is the way the head of his dick slams into your G-spot with every harsh thrust.

The way his dick drags against your walls makes you clench with every swift pass. That combined with the way his hips slap against your ass might just be the best thing you’ve ever felt.

Your body begins to go slack, your stomach and chest pressing harder into the table, you barely even register Joel's hand being removed from your mouth until you hear your unfiltered moans break through.

“Jus’ wait one second, darlin,” Joel's voice is strained as he talks. You try to nod back at him but find that it's a bit hard when your bones have melted. His pace never falters as he reaches down to where he pulled his pants down just enough to free his thick cock and heavy balls.

When his hand finds the open buckle of his belt, he tugs it through the loops and uses the edge of the table to fold it once before bringing it to your lips, pushing it toward you until you bite down on it.

He tells you something, by his tone it sounded like a command, but you can’t seem to make out the request. If you weren’t drooling before, you certainly are now with the taste of leather on your tongue. Joel smirks to himself as your moans quiet down with the help of the belt.

“There ya go, such a good girl holdin’ on t’ that for me,” he runs his fingers through your hair as you keen at his praise. He can feel your cunt tighten around him as your second orgasm approaches once again and he has to steel himself so as not to come right then and there like some teenager. Instead, he brings his hand down to touch your clit again, not with his thumb, but with his middle three fingers, rubbing up and down, immediately setting a furious pace.

The new sensation combined with the pistoning of his hips pushes you over the edge and you have to bite down on the belt so you don't scream as you receive the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had. It's like nothing you’ve ever felt before, the white-hot pleasure almost blinding you, and the force of it almost pushing him out of your cunt.

You sob as you listen to Joel talk you through it, telling you how good you're doing for him, how you were made for him to stuff his cock into. His pace never falters as you gush around him, but he does push himself further into you so as to not be forced out of you.

The strength of his thrust is enough to surge you forward, the table screeching on the concrete floor below you as it too is moved forward slightly. After you come down completely from your high, he grasps your hands and tugs them behind your back for leverage, fucking down into you to chase his own pleasure.

“Goddamn, darlin, tight, young, little cunt, squeezin’ the fuckin’ life outta me.” His dirty words are almost humiliating as he throws them out, but you love every moment of it, the way you clench around his cock giving you away quickly.

“Oh, you like that, little slut?” he almost sounds surprised as he continues rambling.

“Filthy little thing, lettin’ some old man stuff his cock into your sweet little pussy. ‘F you didn’t take dick so good I would think you’d be a damn virgin.” You whine beneath him as much as you can with the leather between your teeth, a shameless request for him to keep talking.

“Yeah, you like that, huh, little girl?” He grants your wish, spewing more filthy comments every few thrusts. “Like bein’ told what a f-fuckin’ whore you are f’ me?” You keep, drooling on the belt trapped between your teeth.

Suddenly, you feel the large hand that was pinning your neck disappear, only to reappear on your ass, making your eyes widen as Joel quickly slides to your other hole, his thumb right above the tight ring of muscle.

Usually, you would want to struggle, but for some reason, the thought of Joel taking you there is something you find yourself wanting. He feels you squeeze around him again and he chuckles at your desperation.

“Now, you’re just full of surprises, ain't ya, princess?” He says, his voice even more strangled than it was before. It almost sounds like it should be painful for him to talk. He stops talking for a moment to allow his saliva to drip down and slide down your ass crack.

“You’d let me fuck you here, wouldn't you, little girl?” Fuck this man, you both know the answer to that.

“Put my dick in this pretty little ass?” When you don't object, you feel him spit on top of his thumb again before pushing it into you.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes curl as he slides his thumb into you until he can’t anymore. The intrusion triggers your third orgasm, your body melting into the table as you press back into him. It’s less intense than the first two, but you are still fully consumed by the waves of pleasure that wash over you.

If you had been standing, you would have fallen to your knees. You’ve never felt so full in your life, the feeling almost overwhelming as he leans on top of you again, continuing to whisper filth into your ear. You can tell he’s getting close by the way he lets go of your wrists and tangles his fingers into your hair, slamming himself somehow even deeper inside of you.

“Tell me who these fuckin’ holes belong to, princess,” he spews out through gritted teeth, pulling the belt away from your mouth and throwing it somewhere off to the side.

“Who makes you feel good, makes these little holes feel good?” When you don't answer immediately, your unleashed moans and whimpers making it almost impossible, he uses the hand that’s not fingering your ass to deliver a sharp slap to your left cheek.

“Fuck, fuck Joel it’s you,” you practically sob as you tell him what he wants to hear, what you want him to hear.

“T-these holes are yours Joel, you make them feel so good, they belong to you, all yours,” you cry out frantically. Satisfied with your response, he rubs over the red spot on your skin before returning his hand to your neck.

“That's right,” he praises you softly and you soak up every word. “Such a good fuckin’ girl, knowin’ who she belongs to.” He thrusts into you half a dozen more times before his pace finally starts to falter.

“W-where do you want me, sweet thing?” As he asks you, all you can think is “fuck this man for being respectful with shit like that.” If he hadn’t asked, you probably would have shoved him away, but instead, you make another stupid decision—why the fuck not at this point?

“I-inside, Joel, inside me, oh my god, fucking c-come inside me,” you’re only slightly aware of how desperate you sound as you beg for his cum, but again, you can’t seem to find it in you to care. You let your cheek rest on the cool surface of the table and close your eyes, too exhausted to hold yourself up any longer.

You hear Joel groan and start to say something above you, but he cuts himself off as he releases inside you with a strangled moan, almost like he is biting down on his lip so as not to shout.

A stream of curses laced with your name spills from his lips as he twitches and pulses inside you. The feeling of his hot cum spilling into you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It seems like forever before he stills, practically collapsing on top of you, his cum dripping around his softening cock and down your thighs.

Despite his weight on top of you, you think you could probably manage to fall asleep there. Your body has never felt so spent and tired, every muscle sore in one way or another. Joel waits only a minute before lifting himself off of you, and you attempt to lift your head to follow his movement, only for your cheek to be gently pressed back onto the table by his palm.

“Jus' hold on a second, princess.” His tone is softer than you’ve ever heard it, and it makes your heart warm, but you can't resist the perfect opportunity to tease him as it presents itself.

“You’re happier after you get your dick wet,” you say with a small smile as you follow his request, letting your eyes close as you bask in the feeling of euphoria that’s taken over your body.

At your snippy comment, you expect him to scold you, or maybe to swat your behind, which is still presented for him. What you don’t expect is to feel his tongue on your spent cunt. Your body jolts and your eyes snap open at the unexpected feeling, your reflexes causing you to try to sit up again, only to be pushed down by Joel’s hand on your lower back.

“I said to wait a second, darlin’,” he says as he pulls away from you, his tone more stern now. He waits until you nod your head to return to your pussy, dipping into your hole and lapping up your mixed release. You shudder as his tongue grazes your overstimulated clit, but do your best to hold still for him.

After he seems to have gotten his fill, you feel him pull away again and stand up to lean over you. His hand suddenly grabs your chin, making you twist your neck slightly so that you are looking up at him. He keeps his mouth shut as he brings it to his own before squeezing your cheeks, making you open your lips, and drops his jaw open.

You gasp as you feel the combination of his spit and your cum mixed with his own slowly spill onto your tongue. He keeps his eyes open and locked onto yours as he keeps your lips together and lets the liquid drip into your mouth. When he pulls away, he replaces his lips with his hand, forcing your mouth shut.

“Swallow,” he commands. You obey without a second thought and let the substance slip down your throat. He smiles when he's sure you’re done and moves his hand, motioning for you to open up. You do, and he smirks as he sees every drop gone.

“Good girl,” he mutters as he lays back down on top of you, and you let your body rest on the table again, enjoying the feel of his body on top of yours. As the two of you stay there, catching your breath, you feel Joel's chest start to vibrate against your back in silent laughter. You furrow your brows and attempt to stand and roll him off you, but only succeed in the latter, your legs failing as if they were made of jello.

Joel stands back and tucks himself back into his jeans as you slump back down on the table, temporarily accepting defeat. You see him take a seat in the chair next to you out of the corner of your eye, his chest still rattling the slightest bit.

“What the fuck do you find so funny, bastard?” You slur your words, your tone is a lot less fierce than you had wanted it to be. He looks at you before answering, and you feel your both heart and your cunt clench at the almost adoring look in his eyes as he meets your gaze. Maybe the asshole will try to be decent for a moment, his expression promising.

“Looks like your gonna have t’ scrub this table again, princess,” he says, his tone toeing the line of playful. You feel your lips tug up into a smile as you recognize the fact that this is probably Joel being friendly. Or at the very least, he’s not at your throat at the moment—in a bad way anyway—so you’ll take it. Upon seeing your smile, he sits back further and allows himself a small smile of his own as he continues to watch you sink into the polished wood beneath you.

“Fuck you, Miller,” you say. You erupt into a quiet yet delirious fit of exhausted giggles, Joel following soon after with his own gentle chuckle.

“Might have t’ give me a second for that, princess.”

*****

Pt. 2 here

#joel miller #fan fiction #pedro pascal #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #bless this mess #the last of us #tlou #we likey?#exhibition kink #enemies to lovers #dark!joel miller

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friendlyneighorhoodchaosdemon · 2 years ago

Text

Catharsis | Adrian Chase

this fic is race/ hair type/ body type neutral; why does that matter? If you feel I’ve overlooked something in regard to this, no matter how “small”, please let me know!

@stealsteels threatened to BEAT ME UP (real) if I didn't post this so I'm doing it.

(…in all seriousness, thank you for all of your encouragement, it truly means the world ♡)

word count | 5.1k (woof)

warnings/ notes | 18+, fluff/ smut; clit rubbing/ fingering, spanking, vibrators, kink discovery/ exploration, trusting and communicating with your partner (hot), service top Adrian, masochistic reader/ sadistic Adrian if you squint. I don't write piv :)

as noted, this contains spanking. It is of course fully consensual, something reader explicitly asks for and (most importantly) NOT a punishment, but I realize it still isn’t everyone's thing, so please be mindful.

also this is incredibly self indulgent and tbh maybe a little out of character, and turned out a lot fluffier and domestic that I intended.

ao3

minors/ ageless blogs please respect my wishes and do not interact with my work/ blog. I will block you :)

You hear him before you see him. A double shift at Fennel Fields followed by hours of shooting a bunch of appliances in the woods with Chris and he still careens into your apartment with all the intensity and finesse of a hurricane. The endless amount of energy he seemed to have was sometimes baffling, and while it was usually fun to have your own personal Energizer bunny around (especially in bed), sometimes you really envied it.

You especially envy it on days like today when you felt like you could barely drag yourself through a comparatively low stakes and low effort day.

That feeling doesn’t last long though, because as soon as he toes his shoes off (a task that takes significantly longer than it should because he refuses to untie his laces, insisting that it’s faster even though it clearly isn’t) and rounds the corner into the kitchen, he shoots you his signature smile and you instantly feel that warmth you only seem to feel around him.

Shoes successfully removed, he ambles over to where you stand in front of the stove, fanning yourself as you lower the heat of the burner. Strong arms instinctively find their way around your waist and he nuzzles into your side, dropping tiny kisses to your cheek. Said kisses are, of course, mostly a means of distraction so that he can reach around you to grab the spoon you'd been stirring with and stick the entire thing in his mouth, but it’s still cute enough to earn him a few kisses in return.

You return to stirring (with a new spoon), humming your replies as he launches into his recap of the day’s events. The recaps are rarely linear (sometimes they're not even coherent), so by now you’re used to the way he flip flops between how crazy the recoil from Chris' Desert Eagle was (“I mean yeah okay, I shot it without his permission, but holy shit babe that thing is crazy! Maybe I should get one. I mean when you think about it it’s actually kind of weird that we don’t have matching guns. Do you think he would think that was weird? If I got the same gun as him?”), to how he’d broken a guy's kneecaps after he'd caught him pushing his girlfriend into a wall in a dark alley, to how some other guy had actually proposed at Fennel Fields (“but don’t worry babe, when I propose it’ll be somewhere way nicer. Like at least Olive Garden or better.”)

The last bit earns him an eye roll and a nudge to the ribs, but you still can’t help the grin that pulls at your lips.

With dinner done, he finally disentangles himself from you to grab the plates and silverware and plops down in front of the tv. Tonight you’re finishing up the latest season of Barry (a show he finds hilarious, more for the gore than the actual comedy), but the second you take your seat next to him his arms immediately find their way around your middle.

“You know you can’t eat if you’re holding me, right?” you question, arching an eyebrow at him.

Undeterred, he pulls you even tighter, insisting that he “totally can though!”

“I’ve mastered the art. See, look,” He demonstrates said “mastery” by pulling you into his chest and bringing his plate around so that it sits on his open palm in front of you. He grins down at you, hopeful you’ll just ignore the high likelihood of pasta sauce spilling down your front with one wrong move. You pat his cheek and shake your head no, moving to separate your bodies. He pouts, truly pouts at you and once again find yourself unable to hide your smile.

“Okay okay, what about if you lay down on my chest and I put my plate on your back?”

“Then how would I eat?”

He ponders this for a second until you see another lightbulb go off.

“Okay, what about you sit in my lap and hold your plate and I-”

“I swear, if you suggest putting your plate on my head...”

“You didn’t let me finish!”

Another skeptical look before you sigh and motion for him to finish.

“...But yes I was going to say that.”

The way he seems to so desperately want this to work is perhaps a little annoying, but mostly very cute and endearing. Another eye roll makes it clear that his request is out of the question, and he’ll, for the time being, have to settle for eating like a normal person.

You turn your attention back to the screen just in time to see a guy's brains splatter as he gets shot in the head point blank. Despite the fact that you know about Adrian’s propensity for violence, it still gets to you and you wince. He pulls you tightly into his side, rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder and you settle into his touch, muttering your thanks into his sweatshirt and pressing a grateful peck to his chin. You sigh contentedly and press your face into his side and your eyes drift closed as you inhale his scent.

A bark of laughter jolts you awake. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, but sure enough when you look up the credits are rolling. You yawn and stretch, craning your neck to look up at him and he seems to immediately sense your stare. He smiles that smile, the one that’s sweet like his normal one but also not, doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he’s thinking about something not so sweet, and the proof of what he exactly he's thinking is now pressing up against you. You turn to face him fully, taking in his lopsided smile and the slight splotchy blush creeping over his neck and plant a small teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Obviously this isn’t enough for him, and he leans over to gently grab the back of your neck and pulls you to him. The kiss is… kind of a lot, to be honest, but most things with Adrian are. Overeager as always he wastes no time licking along the seam of your mouth, asking for entry. You don't oblige him, not yet, opting to tease him instead as you nip his bottom lip.

You hug him closer, feeling the muscles in his back flex under your touch as he tilts your head to the side to suck at the skin of your neck. You move to straddle him but he's already getting impatient and makes a frustrated sound as he grips your thighs and pulls you the rest of the way into his lap. With you seated fully on top of him, he moves one hand to your hip to hold you solidly in place while the other snakes up under your shirt. Adrian is rarely smooth and tonight is no exception. His hands move over you as if he's unsure where to go or where to stop, touching you like it's the first time. They ghost over your stomach and up between your breasts before finally settling on your ass in a nice firm hold.

He finally frees your neck, laving sloppy kisses over your tender skin before pulling away completely. The momentary loss of contact is enough for you to come back to your senses and you push lightly against his chest.

“Hi.” Hi? You scoff at yourself. Great start.

You have no idea why you’re feeling so self-conscious all of a sudden, especially when he's looking at you like that.

The way he noticeably focuses when you have something to say, absorbing your every word is endearing but sometimes it also feels so intense. Especially now, when he’s sitting here, half hard underneath you, eyes growing wide and curious under his large frames.

You gather yourself and clear your throat.

“I uh, I actually wanted to talk about something. To ask you something, actually. I mean, we obviously don’t have to do it tonight, or do anything tonight. I mean I know you’ve had a really long day so I don’t want you to feel obligated to do it tonight, or at all even, if you don't want to. I don’t even know if it’s something you’d be interested in so, no pressure, obviously.”

You’re way too aware of the fact that you’re rambling, which is typically more of an Adrian thing than a you thing, but despite (or maybe because of) your awareness, you can’t seem to stop. The words just keep tumbling out, and now you’re getting flustered and a little bit annoyed with yourself, in large part because it's Adrian for Christ's sake. He's never judged you for your desires and you know it's not in his nature. Even now he just sits there, ignoring his own arousal, patiently waiting for you to get the words out, tracing comforting (albeit distracting) shapes against the tops of your thighs. In spite of all this you still struggle with simply just saying what you want– what you need. You take another breath.

"I want…"

You had what felt like the most supportive partner in the world, so why did this feel so fucking hard?

He nods, squeezing your sides, encouraging you to continue. “Tell me what you want. Tell me and I'll give it to you.”

"I, uh, I want you to spank me." You hold your breath, gauging his reaction carefully.

He immediately perks up at this and just like that, you’re at ease again. Not even a hint of the hesitation or confusion (or even worse, judgment or disgust) you’d dealt with the few times you’d brought it up with previous partners. Not even the well meaning (but kind of annoying) "I don't want to hurt you" you'd come to expect. Then again, this is Adrian, your Adrian, and now you’re wondering why you were even worried in the first place.

Then again, it wasn't like this was exactly a shocking revelation. Adrian already knew you liked some pain and he’d been more than happy to give you the occasional playful spank before, in and out of the bedroom. Even though what you're asking for now was much different, his reaction is a huge relief.

For his part, he sits there, fucking beaming at you. His eyes drift to your lips again, tongue sneaking out to lick his own as he leans in to nip at you this time. For a moment he lingers, like he can’t decide whether he wants to kiss you or move back down to your neck. He goes with the former, pulling you into a searing kiss. You don’t consider yourself the type to get easily flustered, but fuck if he isn’t literally taking your breath away right now. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, payback for earlier, and you gasp. His hand moves to cradle the back of your neck again, squeezing just the tiniest bit. You know he's barely using any of his strength and that knowledge makes you shudder.

“So, how do you want to do this?”

You laugh, “I um…” To be honest, you kind of hadn’t really put much thought into logistics and the kiss wasn't making it any easier to think.

You don’t have to flounder for too long though, because now that you’ve put the idea into his head, he’s running with it.

“Want me to bend you over the couch?”

Another thing most people don’t know about Adrian, and you’re thankful for this, is how… focused he can be. Especially when properly motivated.

“Or I could put you over my lap. Get you nice and relaxed and just… help get all the tension out. Would you like that? Hm?” Hia hands have drifted back to your ass and he pinches it now to emphasize his point, making you yelp.

You can tell how excited he’s getting both by the way he continues to ramble and by the way he’s started to absentmindedly rut up against you. You don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it because he’s still talking, seemingly completely unaware.

“Maybe we should get a paddle. I’d love to see your ass jiggle when I hit it with a paddle. Fuck, do you have one? Should we get one right now? Or a riding crop. Or- what are those things with all the tassels?”

“Adrian, do you really want to buy a flogger right now? Or do you want to take me to bed?"

“Right, right.” Without warning, he stands and you do your best to cling to him as he makes his way to your bedroom. From this position it’s harder to grind against him, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. You press your lips against the long column of his throat, moving up from his Adam’s apple to kiss behind his ear. You move back down and up again, repeating the action on the other side. He groans, deep and guttural and filthy, and you think it’s the loveliest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Stopstopstop, you’re distracting me!” He huffs, cutely, like he really has the audacity to be annoyed right now.

You grin into his neck, unable to stop yourself from softly nibbling his ear.

He places you down on the bed, crawling over you to kiss down your neck and you arch into him, hands sliding down his chest, toned muscles apparent despite the thick material of his sweatshirt, before reaching his waistband. You move to tug them down, desperate to feel him in your hands but he quickly grabs both your wrists and holds them above your head. He pulls back to look at you, smiling a very different smile now.

You try in vain to tug your wrists free, whining for him to let you go so you can touch him, but the look he fixes you with is enough to shut you up. Slowly, slowly he trails his free hand down your chest and slips it into your shorts, rubbing you over your panties.

You moan, clamping your thighs around his hand and grinding yourself into his touch, growing more and more desperate by the second. When he finally he relents and releases your hands you're panting, but you waste no time wrapping your arms around his neck and tangling your hands in his curls as he returns to your neck, kisses turning to bites.

He rucks your shirt all the way up and you lift so he can finish tugging it over your arms. You shiver, fully exposed to him now and he bends down to take one nipple in his mouth, alternating between gentle bites and sucks while circling the other with his thumb and you sigh dreamily, pushing up into his touch.

Your hand drifts back to the nape of his neck, absently dragging your nails up and down the back of his scalp, dark curls running through your fingers and he groans against your skin. You move for his pants again but he bites your nipple that much harder; a clear warning.

He releases your nipple and you think he's switching to the other one but he instead fixes you with another stern look. His voice is lower this time when he speaks.

“Are you gonna behave, or do I need to tie you up?”

You can’t help the shiver that runs through you, or the whimper that escapes your lips at his words.

As enticing as the offer is, you’re starting to get antsy. You nod your head and mutter your assent and he smirks, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

The look he gives you this time is much softer but it still makes your blood run hot, makes you feel like the electricity in your nerves is sparking just under your skin. You turn your head to the side and without missing a beat he grabs your chin lightly, guiding your gaze back to him.

Heat rushes up your neck to your cheeks, but you make yourself hold his gaze. His pupils are almost completely blown black now, cheeks ruddy and lips set in a firm line.

"I care about making you feel good.” The sincerity in his voice floods you with warmth.

“Are you gonna let me?”

You whimper, wishing he’d just go back to kissing you, but you know the question isn’t rhetorical.

“Yes, yes, please Adrian just- please”, you pant, stretching up, wordlessly begging him to kiss you again, to do something, but he doesn't relent. He just holds your gaze while you pout and squirm under him.

“Now, tell me what you want.”

You peer up at him, uncertain of what he means. “I told you, I want you-”

“No, tell me exactly what you want. Be specific. Do you… do you want me to punish you?” His voice quiets a bit at the end.

“No! No, I don’t. I don’t want it to be a punishment. I-I don’t know. I just… I do want it to hurt but... I more just want to not think, just for a while. Sorry, that’s not what you asked but-”

“No, no that’s good. That’s good.”

He finally lets go of your wrists and kneads the muscles in your shoulders. The warmth and pressure from his hands soothes your nerves and you sigh and smile up at him.

“Alright, get over my lap then.”

You scramble to obey, already dizzy with anticipation. You feel giddy with it, and despite your nerves you couldn't deny how badly you wanted this– wanted to feel his hands on you, wanted him to make you feel release only the way he could.

You splay yourself over his spread legs, head resting on the pillow you’d grabbed. Now that you’re unable to see what he’s doing, your mind starts to race. Your pulse quickens, and you start to get that familiar floaty feeling you get whenever he takes control and you get to let go.

He puts one hand on the small of your back and with the other he finally, mercifully, tugs at your waistband. You can feel just how hard he's gotten now as he presses into your hip, but he doesn’t move. Adrian isn't much for teasing but he makes no move to touch you, so you wiggle your hips in the hope that it’ll get him to do… something. He presses firmly on your lower back and you huff, but still yourself anyway. He slowly smooths over the muscles in your lower back, pressing deeper and deeper until you relax into his touch.

He moves lower, gripping the meat of your ass, kneading it softly, and you’re not sure if the gentle touches are genuine or if he’s trying to get you to let your guard down before he starts.

He unceremoniously spreads your legs, dipping his hand between your thighs before ghosting his fingers over your lips. He moves to circle your clit over your underwear and you moan into the pillow, bucking your hips back into his hand, searching for more of whatever he’s willing to give you.

You should’ve known better again, because as soon as you do, his hand comes down squarely against your ass. The pain isn’t so bad, but the sound is enough to make you jump.

"Oh." he says quietly, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "I see."

You're not sure exactly what he means by this but you don't have time to think about it too hard before he brings his hand down again, this time on the other cheek. He stops briefly and you move to turn and ask if that's all he intends to do, but you feel another stinging slap before you get the chance.

“You said you wanted it to hurt, right?” You mumble a "yes", high and breathy, into the pillow that’s smushed against your face.

"Then ask me nicely."

Fuck.

"Adrian, please, please, fucking- just - harder please."

The pace he sets now is unrelenting. You pretty quickly become aware of the fact that he's making sure there's no pattern for you to predict and the thought makes you even giddier.

One smack, and then another, the stinging pain hovering just on the edge of too much, dulling all of your other senses. You start to get that familiar hazy feeling, and you relax into it, welcome it, will it to take you over completely.

Left, left, left, right, left again, one sharp, followed by a few open handed ones to your thigh in quick succession. All the while he's rubbing small, tight circles against your clit with his other hand.

His fingers move to tease your entrance, rubbing small circles into you and like the slaps he's doling out they seem to have no predictable rhythm.

"I think… this is really unlocking something in me," he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You’d been so focused on what he was doing that you only now realize how embarrassingly loud your moans had been, but his comment draws something out of you. You’re whining and writhing against him, not even trying to look dignified at this point, the sensation verging on overwhelming but so so good.

Suddenly it’s gone, and you whine in protest. For a moment everything is still, and you realize for the first time how quickly your heart is beating.

“Still okay?”

You don’t think you can form words right now, but you groan an affirmative, hoping it gets your message across. Adrian gently tilts your chin so he can look into your eyes and confirm. “Yes?” he questions, and your heart warms at the way he asks, at the way he always wants to be certain. The way he's biting his lip also tells you you’re not the only one who's enjoying this.

You exhale sharply, forcing your brain and mouth to actually form words, making sure your "yes" is clear. He nods once in return and releases your chin, and you sigh as you sink into the pillow again. Once you're comfortable, he starts again.

"Good girl. Keep being good for me.”

The sharp stinging pain and the dull thudding of his open palm are starting to run together, all becoming one sensation. He grips the fat of your ass again with one hand, releases it and brings the other hand down. He repeats this a few more times; squeezing, releasing and then bringing his hand down quickly before the blood has the chance to rush back under your skin, gauging your reactions each time, cataloging every whimper, moan and twitch, every shudder, flinch and squeal and rewarding each in kind.

“You like that? You like it when I hurt you like this? You like my fingers rubbing your pretty little clit like this?”

With this he runs his fingers back through the slick between your legs, teasing a finger against your opening.

"Jesus, fuck, look at you. Is this all for me? Yeah? Answer me." You can’t help but whine at that, telling him "Yes, yes it's all for you, all for you Adrian!" hiccuping and helpless to do anything but feel him.

He continues, “I think I know what you want, but you know you have to use your words,” he chides. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, yes! Pleasepleaseplease” You’re nearly sobbing now, tears you hadn't even noticed before falling freely now.

“I think I have something you’ll like even better,” he says, and your heart leaps at the thought of what he could possibly have in mind. You move to turn to him, but a firm hand on your back keep you in place.

He draws his hand back and you brace yourself for the inevitable impact, but it doesn't come. You huff, knowing full well he's absolutely got the shittiest grin on his face but you refuse to turn around this time, refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing your annoyance. So the two of you just sit there, momentarily suspended, at the world’s tensest, horniest impasse. You, over his lap, your panties hanging off of your ankle, and him, with presumably one hand raised in the air and one tracing faint shapes into the skin of your inner thighs.

"You," he starts, taking a deliberate breathe like he's trying to compose himself, trying to stave off the arousal he's thus far been able to keep at bay. He’s still got his pants on, and the combination of that and you writhing and moaning on top of him is starting to become unbearable.

"You have no fucking idea what you do to me."

He sounds dangerous now, voice too measured and now the tension is really starting to get to you.

He’s moving on the bed, doing his best to not jostle you too much but you can still feel his hips and cock shift under you as he reaches over to the drawer on your side of the bed.

You hear him rifling through it, various objects clattering as he tosses them around. You use this time to ground yourself, taking a few deep breaths but they do little to stop the way your blood is still rushing under your skin. You have an idea of what he’s looking for, but you don’t dare turn around to confirm your suspicions.

Finally, the rustling stops and he chuckles triumphantly.

He’s quiet again. Suspiciously, unnervingly quiet. Adrian is so rarely quiet that when he is it's noticeable. He’s still lazily running his fingers between your thighs, purposefully avoiding your clit this time, despite the insistent roll of your hips. Like he’s got all the time in the fucking world.

You hear the telltale buzz of the Magic Wand behind you, but he doesn’t give you time to register it before he pushes the head right up against your clit. You cry out, the sensation immediately far too intense, but despite your struggle he continues to firmly hold you in place. You whine pathetically, the pressure and vibration too much too soon, and he eases up just a little so the vibrations are still strong, but not so overwhelming.

You keep squirming, you can’t help it, and he moves the toy from your clit. This time you chase it, now desperate for stimulation and he chuckles above you and spanks your ass again.

“Fuck!” You cry out, burying your face into the pillow again. You know how you probably look, completely fucked out, tears splilling freely from your eyes now as you sob ugly and way too loud sobs, but you can't think about that right now. You were close, so so close. You just needed that extra little push.

“You’re doing so well baby. Can you take a few more?” and he asks so sweetly you can't even think about saying no.

Adrian returns to rubbing the small of your back, his voice a little softer now. He knows the telltale signs of your impending orgasm, and he always knows how to get you over the edge.

You gasped an “uh-huh”, arching into his touch and this time he allows it and repositions the toy directly against your clit again. Despite his softer tone, his hand comes down again just as hard and unrelenting as before and you’re honestly glad he isn’t going softer now that he knows you’re close.

He turns the vibration up a little more and the extra stimulation is exactly what you need. You feel your body seize momentarily as you clench and shake and for a split second everything feels still before your orgasm crests and breaks over you.

You hold onto that feeling for as long as you can, letting the wave break and settle and feeling your brain go blissfully hazy.

You feel floaty, your body feeling absolutely spent, wrung out completely and everything in that moment feels so perfect.

Adrian slowly ghost gentle touches over your back and down over your ass and thighs. You feel something cool and sigh contentedly as he rubs lotion into your stinging flesh.

You work to steady your breathing, reveling in the feeling of his gentle touch and the sweet praises he mumbles.

He knows you sometimes get a little dizzy and fucked out after you cum, (loves it, really) so he waits for you to gather yourself. Once he finishes you roll onto your stomach.

You wouldn't blame him for being self satisfied or even cocky in this moment, but the smile he wears now is anything but. It's just warm and sweet, like him.

He grabs one of the small hand towels you keep in the bedside drawers and gently wipes you down, knowing how much you hate the feeling of sweat on your skin after and helps you pull a fresh pair of underwear and one of his oversized shirts on as you settle into his lap.

“Was it.. was it good for you? Was it too hard?” You hear the little bit of worry start to creep into his voice and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no not at all. It was perfect Adj. You know I would’ve stopped you if something was wrong.”

He visibly relaxes at this, and resumes running his fingers over your tender flesh, humming softly.

It’s quiet, and for a while the only sound you’re aware of is your breathing. When he speaks again, it’s like he’s already in the middle of a thought.

“But seriously. Whatever you need, you know I’m happy to do it for you. And you know how much I love taking care of you. I just always want to make sure I make you feel good, you know?”

You smile at his confession. “Yeah, I know. And thank you. Seriously."

You clear your throat. “It's just nice to have someone who cares, you know?”

He hums thoughtfully, still rubbing your skin gently.

"I know you care about me as a person, and I'm not saying you're the only one who does. I meant more, it's nice to have someone who cares about making me feel good. Not to say that other people were just using me for sex but… with you it's just,” you go quiet again. “It’s just different."

“So thank you. For… this. For not being weirded out by it, I mean. And for doing it, of course.”

You sit up so you can look him in the eye now and he pulls you into him fully, arms tight and secure. The last thing you're aware of before you drift off this time is his scent as he kisses your temple.

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