#No main tagging. I leave that when I decide to release my notes on this drama track. Allow me to let it sink in first.

[livwritessometimes]

I LOVE YOU!

: Part 11 (Oscar's Version)

: It's bout time Oscar comes clean about his feelings

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: author’s note - I almost had a heart attack!!! this fic was scheduled and it did not release and it wasn’t showing in the scheduled section and I almost lost it

…

“Oscar??” Y/n said, confused, as she made her way towards the man in front of her. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked as she finally got a better view of the comp science major standing under the lights that cast a soft glow on his face. 

"Y/n," Oscar said, a hint of nervousness laced his voice. "I'm glad you came!" he said.

"Wait, are you the one who left that message??" Y/n asked. Not bothering to wait for a reply, she continued, "How did you even do that? Wasn't Mr. Stella working on it? So how did you even get the chance to change that? Unless you were working on it with him. Is that what you were doing? Why? First you ignore me, keep on making excuses, ditch me to hang out with another girl, and then when I get someone else to help me with this, you go behind my back and work on it?? How does that even make sense? Osc-" Her ramble was cut short with Oscar suddenly shouting, "Stop! Y/n, would you please stop for the love of God and let me explain?" 

The girl instantly fell silent, waiting for the boy to continue. "Yes, I changed the form so that you could get the coordinates. I had gone to Mr. Stella and begged him if I could work on the form and finish what I had started with you," Oscar said.

"Why? Why would you do all that? Because I told you I don't need your help? Is that why you decided to call me here late at night? and for what?" Y/n said, feeling herself get teary-eyed by the sudden outburst of emotions. "Do you not want me to do well in the assignment? Is that what this is because if that is why you are doing all of this Oscar Piastri, I swear to god?" 

"I did this because I LOVE YOU," Oscar blurted out; he could not take it any longer. He could not keep his mouth shut and watch the girl he loves think he did all of this out of spite.

Y/n felt her heart stop. This was not what she was expecting when she left her house today in hopes of finding the person behind the mysterious message. "What??" Y/n said, in fact, that was all she could get herself to say.

"I love you; I have for a while now. Daniel had texted me one day saying that he's happy to see me happy with you, and I freaked out. I know that this was no excuse for me ignoring you, and I'm really sorry for that. But I didn't know how else to react," Oscar said, staring down at the ground, refusing to look at Y/n. 

"I've never felt like this; all my life I never felt like the need to be with someone, and so I never bothered with it. But the more time we spent together for the project, the more I realized that I did not want it to end. And so I started to make excuses just so we could spend more time working on the project. But I didn't realize that doing so would make it end sooner," he said. "Lily was just working with me on one of our assignments; I never thought you'd think that I was dating her. I never meant for things to get so complicated between us. I understood your decision to work with my professor, and I'm sorry I went behind your back to work on the project. Please don't get angry with him; he was very hesitant to let me do this in the first place. I just hope that we can still be friends." Oscar finally finished and looked up at Y/n.

Both Y/n and Oscar had taken a seat at one of the chairs kept outside, and for a good five minutes no words were exchanged between the two. Suddenly, Y/n got up and said, "I'm sorry, Oscar, but I have to go," and without waiting for him to reply, Y/n walked out of the cafe.

Leaving a confused and heartbroken Oscar behind.

…

Tags: @regalbanshee | @be-your-coffee-pot | @mrsbrxkkxr | @princessria127 | @moonraysandstars | @prettiest-at-the-party | @theblueblub | @magixpracticality | @slytherinholland | @overlyexcitedoutlaw | @marvel-at-stucky | @crumbssss | @a-beaverhausen | @felicityforyou | @gigigreens | @jas0nluvr | @khaylin27 | @imsiriuslyreal | @cwiphswmwasohmm | @wobblymug | @e-nonsense | @raizelchrysanderoctavius | @brekkers-whore | @vintagefucksstuff | @aexitizen-ln4 | @redstappen | @iamred-iamyellow | @tsireyasgf | @ghost-of-student-sufferings | @saachiep81 | @lozzamez3 | @ravisinghs-wife | @elizamoe133 | @anthonylockwoodandco111 | @formulaal | @luvsforme | @annabellelee | @a-disturbing-self-reflection | @emryb | @grovelingmen | @illicit-affcirs | @iwilleatyourgod | @youre-on-your-ownkid | @originaldreamerdragon | @landorris | @mountvesuvu | @chezmardybum | @littlegrapejuice | @spitesfvl-blog | @juleshadalittlelamb | @vicurious28 | @niyu2208 |

[notjustjavierpena]

King

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: A happy return my dark sugardaddy!joel. It’s truly been too long. I hope you enjoy his dark and looming presence.

Summary: You do what it takes to get that car you’ve wanted for a while.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, sugardaddy/sugarbaby dynamics, abusive relationship, dom/sub dynamics, hint at virginity kink, power dynamics, reader calls joel ‘king’. daddy kink, light bondage, verbal humiliation, demeaning talk about sex work, praise kink, slapping, manhandling, dacryphilia, choking, rough piv sex, cream pie, no aftercare

Word count: 3.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56477767

King

You run your fingers down over the front of your little black dress. It’s not your favorite but it doesn’t matter as it is not the centerpiece of your outfit, mischievously hiding an emerald green set of lingerie underneath it that peeks out from under the hem in the form of a garter belt. 

The silk underwear is new, bought only last week when Joel took you shopping for something new to tear to pieces. He’d chosen this color very carefully but you suspect that it had really been the heart-shaped gap between your legs that had made it sell itself. You knew instantly then, from the way his eyes had darkened and his suit pants had tightened, that it would become a useful weapon in getting what you wanted. Not that you would ever say it out loud (and you suspect that he knows) but Joel is sometimes easy to read, easy to wrap around your finger if you let him do as he pleases. He cares about your happiness and wants but he just doesn’t like to say it out loud, likes to play games so it looks like it is his idea. You’re happy to indulge him in this fantasy if you end up benefiting from it anyway. 

The black dress has no uneven ruffles but you still smooth it out underneath your palms. Then you head to his king-sized bed, toeing off your shoes, and decide to take a nap on your front until he gets home. He doesn’t even know you have a mission. 

Joel arrives home a few hours later. You wake up from the sound of his car crunching the gravel of his driveway, announcing his arrival like an impending hurricane that has consciousness to be merciful but only if it likes. You imagine the scene in your head; the sight of the car coming to a jarring halt, the door being opened and a single foot hitting the solid ground. 

You get out of bed immediately with your heart pounding at the thought of seeing him in just a moment. You leave your shoes behind as you exit the bedroom, tiptoeing out into the hall to peer down at the front door from the top of the enormous staircase. 

You can hear the jingle of his keys and then he is framed in the doorway, a dark shadow in contrast to the pining sunlight outside. He looks around for you for a moment, surveying his large home with a presence that fills the space completely. 

You try to steady your breathing so as to not reveal yourself to be spying on him, taking note of how he carries himself and what mood radiates from him. Sometimes it’s not the right time to ask for things. Sometimes it’s better to just spread your legs or open your mouth. 

However, Joel simply closes the door and lets out a tired, relieved breath, hand coming up to run across his forehead and using two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. His shoulders slump at this moment that he thinks he is alone, and you release a breath that you didn’t know you have been holding in as you find no clenched fists or angry muttering to himself. 

You make your way back to his bedroom and decide that sitting obediently on the edge of the bed, posing as someone who has been waiting to make his life easier, is the best way forward. 

It takes a little while before you hear his footsteps approaching outside the room. He opens the door slowly, entering the room with his still impressive demeanor. You give him a little smile and push yourself to stand, making your way towards him and pecking his lips when you stand in front of him. 

“Hey,” he says, only a hint of warmth in his tired voice. He reaches out to place a hand on your waist, his grip on your body feeling more like a claim than a comfort.

“You look tired,” you note and cup his cheek with your dominant hand. He closes his eyes briefly as if drawing something from your touch, draining something out of you. When he opens them again, they go down to take in your appearance. His grip on your waist tightens. 

“And you look…” he begins but is unsure how to compliment the effort you’ve put into your outfit that’s only for him. It seems like he genuinely wants to say something nice until his eyes narrow in suspicion, “What’s this for?” 

“I want a new car,” you let him tower over you as you decide to be bold in his fatigued state. Your fingers come up to peel the straps of your dress off, letting them droop down over your delicate skin for just a second before pulling the rest of the dress down to pool around your feet. You step out of it, don’t dare smile in case he might see it as smugness.

Joel looks unimpressed, disappointed even. He narrows his eyes further, a flicker of irritation across his face. He lets go of your body as if you are suddenly not interesting anymore, reaches to undo the knot on his tie, “Take one of my old ones. I have plenty… and with the way ya drive I shouldn’t be spendin’ so much goddamn money on somethin’ new and shiny because you’re bored of your other toys.”

“Joel,” you pout, entwining your fingers in front of you to make your arms squeeze your breasts together tightly while you push out your bottom lip. 

“That ain’t my name,” he replies and briefly looks down at your cleavage, “And what? The little princess didn’t like her pony? You’re so fuckin’ spoiled. A dumb cliché.” 

“Daddy,” you correct yourself and he nods once. You walk backward towards the bed, crawling onto it and making sure he watches you with every step you take, teasing the bottomless panties while doing it. You sit on your knees, his favorite submissive position, and smile with the hope of making his dick hard. It’ll make this so much easier, “Please. I can earn it. I can be a good girl.”

“Show me whatcha got,” he tells you, his tone letting you know that his attention is fleeting so you better make use of it now that you have it. 

You lay down on your front, propping yourself up on your elbows by resting your chin in your hands. You give him a sweet, doe-eyed smile, “Honey, you’ve had such a long day.”

“Nope,” he rejects the fantasy with a bored expression but still takes one step closer to the bed, “Try again.”

You try not to let him see the frustration on your face that your first fantasy fell through, recovering quickly by getting up on your slightly-spread knees. You grab the end of the bed, leaning forward to make your position even more provocative. 

“It’s my first time, Daddy,” you say with a pout, blinking your long lashes at him, “I’m a little nervous. I’m so wet between my legs. Can you tell me what’s happening to me?” 

Even as Joel swallows thickly, he shakes his head while he walks to the side of the bed. He stares at you from a few feet away from the edge, “No. Again.” 

You notice that he is getting hard but you know him well enough to tell that it is from the game that you are playing with each other right now and not from how you look or act. He gets off on the power he has over you, and you feel yourself getting excited from it too. 

Power. That’s the one. 

You crawl forward and lay down on your back on the vulgarly huge bed, staring up at him as you swing your legs out over the edge of it. You spread them slowly to make his gaze burn, revealing the heart-shaped hole in your panties and your soaked pussy that he can slide into if he wants. All he has to do is take a few steps forward and lift your thighs over his hips. 

Joel is too easy sometimes but mostly when he’s in one of his good moods. He stands beside the bed not a second later, looking down at you with awaiting eyes. You know exactly which words to make him fuck you until you cry, even feel a little silly that it hadn’t occurred to you the second you saw him enter the house. 

You give him a hazy look, holding your thighs open for him. His gaze bores into yours and you swear that he can read your mind. Even so, you don’t blink or cower under the look of God. 

“You’re my king, Daddy.”

“Attagirl, that’s better,” he praises to make your skin prickle and your chest feel ablaze.

Something in Joel’s eyes darkens with the idea of being superior in every way and the spark of fire that you have ignited only seems to grow when you don’t try to act like this isn’t the case but instead give in and let him know just how beneath him you are. Figuratively and literally. 

He reaches for his belt, unbuckling it with rough hands as he plans your demise in his head, all kindness seeping out of his face as if the way he praised you seconds ago simply didn’t happen. There’s something about those Shinigami eyes, teasing the border between fear and arousal. The urgency of his movements tells you that it’ll hurt for days but the pretty things that you’ll receive in return are worth not being able to stand upright for a while. You calm your beating heart by listing cars in your mind, choosing colors, models, and leather seats. 

You return to reality when you hear Joel’s fingers snap in front of your face. He sneers, kneeling on the bed with one knee and pulling off his tie completely, “Don’tcha fuckin’ think you get to decide what car you’re gettin’, honey. If you want one, I decide. We clear?”

You watch with pleading eyes, knowing you should say something but faltering because all you want to do is complain about his decision. There goes that dream of an expensive Aston Martin, the one that has kept you scrolling through your phone.

“You dare make your King wait?” He spits harshly when you don’t answer quickly enough, his eyes going practically black with rage. There’s no emotion in them anymore, not even when you whimper at his tone. He reaches out for your arms, violently yanking them towards himself so he can wrap the tie around your wrists, and the panic that you feel suddenly starts to make you cry. He ties a painful knot, securing your arms tightly until he pushes them over your head, “You don’t behave then you don’t getta touch.” 

You whine with tears at the corners of your eyes, looking away in shame in the way that he likes. However, it is actually a punishment because you do really like touching him - or at least just hold onto him, which you still can but you don’t dare move your arms back down - when he fucks you. The avoidance of his powerful eyes earns you a slap to your right breast, and you yelp in surprise. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you babble, barely able to croak out a coherent reply whilst you twist on the sheets from the unprepared sting to your chest. As you turn your body to the side, subconsciously trying to protect yourself from more painful strikes, you curl in on yourself and thus pull your legs shut, “You know best, I-I know. I understand.”

“Lie still, ya bimbo. I saw that hole between ya legs drippin’ wet, so you’re gonna lemme use it or you won’t get as much as a damn penny for your stupid new obsession,” he curls his calloused hands around your thighs until they dent the skin and maneuvers you onto back once more. He holds your legs open, knees pressing into the mattress until you feel as though your hips might dislocate. He stares down between your legs, smiling to himself at the heart shape in your panties. The stitching of it is coated in your slick, obscene in how creamy and white it is compared to the emerald color of the fabric. Joel makes a primal sound, “Daddy fuckin’ likes. God, I am gonna ruin ya, baby, ruin this well-behaved pussy.”

“Just for you, Daddy. It’s all just for you, I promise, money or not,” you cry quietly with your bottom lip sticking out, wiggling your hips as much as you can under his powerful weight to show how desperate you are for him. You want to tell him that he already has ruined you. Oh, how thoroughly he has ruined you and ruined everyone else for you. However, no one should make the mistake of thinking you have not let him, no, you have waited for him to find you in a sea of unimportant and tedious nobodies, and fuck, you love him for it. Even if he makes you cry. 

“That’s right, just f’me,” he smiles down at you almost tenderly whilst removing one hand from your thigh to undo his pants. You smile with wet cheeks, eyes glazed over as he hurries to get his cock out, the head red and angry from not having enough attention. You put on a show of looking like your life depends entirely upon whether he gets inside of you soon. 

���You want Daddy to fuck ya? Fuck ya so I’ll give in like I always fuckin’ do?” He aligns himself with you, gliding the thick head of his length through your soaked folds. 

“Please,” you choke out feebly when he starts to spear you on his dick, feeding you inch by inch with his girth until your whole lower body buzzes with greed. Your tied-up hands grip the sheets above your head, your breath shaky as he drapes your thighs over his hips when he has bottomed out inside you. 

Your voice wavers as he starts moving inside of you, setting a painful pace that has your eyes rolling back into your skull, your body thrashing, and your moans climbing in pitch like you are possessed. He knows what you like and you can feel he might be generous about it today. After all, you’ve put in so much effort to look nice and what would a King be if he couldn’t exceed in everything? That means even your pleasure.

He leans over you when you tighten your legs around his waist, rough hands settling on your hip bones so he can grind harshly into you. You beg for him, pleading his name as if in prayer again and again. His pelvis nudges at your swollen yet untouched clit. It causes you to scream and grab harder at the sheets as your orgasm builds up fast. You sob on the shaking bed as he puts more effort into each thrust. The head of his cock molds you to fit him each time, reaching something inside of you that has you sizzling with ecstasy in a way that no man has ever made possible before. You didn’t even know you could come like this, so intensely, before you met him but despite his talent, he is cruel even in his generosity. 

“You’re gettin’ fucked for a dumb car, you know that?” He growls above you, staring down at your wide eyes and open mouth. He moans with a smirk, “You know what that makes ya?” 

He keeps you on the edge with his thrusts, teasing an orgasm that he doesn’t allow to come yet. In the most frustrating of ways, you find that even if he exceeds in making you come, it’s not a given that he’ll just hand it over to you. Nothing is ever out of the goodness of his heart. You nod frantically as if it’ll make him think you are anything other than pathetic, “Yes! Oh God, yes, please.”

“Say it, sweetheart,” he demands, splaying a hand on your chest and letting it travel up to rest on your neck. However, he doesn’t squeeze to watch your face heat up in panic or push his merciless thumb into your windpipe. Instead, he waits for you to follow orders. 

“A whore, Daddy,” you reply with a whimper, driven crazy by the unreleased tension in your lower belly. You scrunch your eyebrows, “Please— ah, l-let me come.”

“That’s right, a filthy, little, gold-diggin’ whore,” he lets out a sound that’s a mix between a laugh and a moan. Those words make your cunt clench around his cock, walls squeezing enough to make him switch up his pace. His thrusts become sharp and erratic, sending you hurtling towards your high so quickly that you throw your head back and involuntarily twist your arms as much as you can. 

You come with Joel’s violent grip on your throat, with your tits bouncing in the skimpy outfit and your pussy gushing on his dick when your clit happily gets its way. He follows behind you, panting in exhaustion as he finally gets pushed over the edge by how you pulse around him with each beat of your fluttering heart. He is warm inside you, making a mess of your panties with how much already spills out of you around his girth. 

It’s intense even in its aftermath. None of you move for a moment and the body heat radiating from you to him and vice versa has you sticking to each other. Joel has a palm on the bed while the other grabs at one of your thighs that are still slung around his body. He strokes up and down to soothe you but only to slip loose of the hot choke of your pussy. 

You look up at him with a soft whimper when you’re left empty, knowing not to say any actual words yet. Silently, he unties your wrist and you gaze longingly at him as he leans over you to do so. He is so commanding even when he has not uttered a word. Above you, he looks so beautifully disheveled - some of his curls have fallen into his forehead, one sticks to the sweat there - and when he is done, he quietly starts unbuttoning his shirt. 

Once naked on his chest, he stares and thinks about something for less than a second. He is quick in his evaluation of the situation, finally stepping out of his bottoms. He takes his time to dig into the pocket of his discarded pants, retrieving his wallet and you wait as patiently as you can muster as the anticipation grows.

“I think that dirty fuck deserves an Aston Martin at the very least, don’tcha think?” He smiles knowingly but it doesn’t reach his eyes and places his sleek black card on the bed. You hear him mutter the word pathetic as you reach for the card but when you peek up at him, you can see the way he takes pleasure in rewarding you when you so successfully display the thrill you feel in earning it. 

Your body aches but you prop yourself up on your elbows, grinning with tear-streaked cheeks, “Thank you, Daddy.” 

Joel leans down over you once more, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss and tangling his hand in your hair to make you unable to pull back. He knows how to show you who is in charge but he sets it in stone when he only draws back an inch after breaking the kiss again. 

“Remember, baby,” he murmurs, voice raspy with sex, “You only get what you deserve and you’ve been very deservin’ today.”

“Can I shower with you?” You smile sweetly. It seems like the right time to ask for a bit of intimacy. 

Joel huffs a laugh and shakes his head, “No. Lie in it.”

He disappears after that. Your smile does too.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[chuuyasheaven]

♡ One of your girls tonight. ♡

Tags: fem! Dazai Osamu / fem! Reader, lesbian sex, pet names (darling, princess, sweetheart), praising, fingering, slight teasing, making out mentioned, nipples getting licked (guess who), neck kissing, hickeys?, overstimulation, dirty talk, porn w/o any plot idk, strap use (first time writing this), ooc? Dazai, might contain grammar errors, rushed, SHORT., etc.

Notes: @heluvaku idk bruh enjoy !!

All you remember is going to some random club after a messy break-up, only trying to have fun. After being there for like 2 hours just sitting there on the bar, you noticed her. A beautiful woman, long brown locks resting on her shoulders, few bandages covering her body and her pretty red lips. Feeling entranced by her, you got closer to her. If only you knew what you got yourself into, not like you complained, the complete opposite actually. .

Back at her place you guys were kissing eachother passionately, she was on top of you while you laid under her, her red lipstick smudging your lips. She let go of your lips, looking at you seductively. Dazai lowered her head again until her breath was hitting your neck, leaving a few kisses and maybe hickeys here and there. Deciding it was enough, she was looking at your chest, from which she took the shirt off, your tits out for her to suck on. Her warm breath hitting your nipples before it disappeared inside her mouth, sucking on it and teasing it with her tongue. "Feels good, darling?", Dazai asked before going down on the other. "F–fuckkk.", was all what left your mouth.

Your nipples were drenched with her spit, even some of her smudged lipstick on your tits. Since you were only in your panties right now, she let her fingers trace over your body until she stopped at your panties' waistband. Only to leave it on and slid between your legs, pushing your panties to the side for easy entrance. Dazai's fingers were long and slim, her moves were delicate, making you feel like you never have before. With some moans slipping from you, she curled her fingers to unlock more. "Ah— D–dazai. .", you managed to say, she looked at you with a teasing expression. "What is it, sweetheart?", you gulped before answering, her fingers hitting your cervix.

"I'm g–gonna—", you gasped before your climax washed over you. How did you cum that fast? Probably because no one made you feel so good, not even your good for nothing ex boyfriend. "Good girl, think you're ready for the main course?", you automatically nodded immediately, she stood up and went to get something. When Dazai returned, she held a strap, you never knew you could wet this fast. As she finally got everything set, she inserted it into you, slowly and gently first so you could adjust. You never knew that there were sizes like that. While she waited inside you, she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, after she just let her finger run up and down your thigh.

Soon you gave her the sign to move and she did, going slow at first. It felt so good, barely even started and you were already a mess. The way it hit spots you didn't even know about drove you crazy. As Dazai picked the speed up, you got louder, with the orgasm from earlier you were already sensitive enough. "D–dazai, please. . f–feels good– hah!", her grip on your waist got slightly harder, pleasure starting to take over her. "F–fuck, keep moaning my name like that and I'll never stop, princess.", in middle of the heat in the moment your phone rang, but you didn't hear, Dazai was your main focus right now. Dazai noticed but didn't say anything, she needed to make you cum again. Your cunt clenched around her strap signaling that your second release was nearing itself.

"I'm not gonna stop until you're going dumb on me, alright, pretty girl? I'm gonna make you forget about everything but me. ."

This was rushed but ngh I need her so bad. </3

[gomapda]

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]

[summer-of-bad-batch]

Rules / Q&A

RULES (…for being reblogged by @summer-of-bad-batch)

**checks list** There are no “rules” per se…

HOWEVER, if you would like to be eligible for reblogging by this blog, please keep these 2 things in mind:

This is a PG rated blog. Basically, if it could be in the literal show, it could be on this blog. (But everything is welcome in the Ao3 Summer of Bad Batch 2024 Collection)

Tag properly! #summerofbadbatch2024 #week[insert number here] – Easy peasy! [example: #summerofbadbatch2024 #week3]

Please keep in mind that I might not be able to reblog every single contribution to this glorious challenge, even if it falls into the parameters listed above. I am but one person, and real life will take priority 🙂

Where is the Ao3 Summer of Bad Batch Collection??

Here’s the link!

To add to the collection:

You can do this when you’re posting a new story, or when you’re editing a story!

Under the “Associations” section, you’ll see: Post to Collections / Challenges

In the box, type summerofbadbatch2024 (no spaces)

It may or may not auto populate the collection. If it doesn’t, that’s fine! Just leave it and post/save your story. It should tuck it into the collection just fine 🥰

Q&A

When will prompts be released?

The first prompt will be released on Saturday, June 1st at 12 AM CST. After that, the weekly prompt will be released every Sunday at 12 AM CST.

What if I don’t like the prompt for the week?

Each week will have an alternate prompt available!

Can I swap out the alternate prompts?? For example: could I use Week 2’s alternate prompt for Week 5?

Yes!! ANY of the alternate prompts can be swapped out for ANY of the main prompts.

What if I don’t understand the prompt?

Send me an ask! I would love to help.

Also, I think it’s so important to note that the prompts are open for interpretation. As long as someone could squint and see the correlation, go with wherever the prompt prompts you to go. (See what I did there?)

What if I don’t finish the weekly prompt within the week?

That’s totally fine! This prompt challenge isn’t a stickler for deadlines. If you finish Week 1’s prompt in Week 5, it absolutely still counts!

If your goal is to be a Completionist, you just have to have 13 prompts done by August 31st.

Can I fill prompts on works I’ve already finished?

For a prompt to be “filled”, it needs to be used for a NEW work or a WIP. (For example: if you have a multi-chapter fic, you can apply the prompt to a new chapter…but not to a chapter you completed/posted already)

Prompts don’t count as “filled” you apply them to an already completed work.

Can I use more than one prompt in one story?

Yes! Let’s do it! 👏

What if I do all 13 prompts AND the alternate prompts?

Then you, my feisty friend, are an overachiever. Anyone who decides to power through 26 prompts this summer will get an ultra special shout out at the end of the challenge.

Do the stories have to be about the Bad Batch?

Simply put: yes.

How do I qualify as a “completionist”?

Basically, if you complete all 13 prompts within the 13 allotted weeks of “summer” (June 2nd - August 31st, 2024), you are a completionist! Yay you!

What’s the difference between a “completionist” and a “participant”?

If you complete between 1 and 12 prompts, you are a participant.

If you complete ALL 13 prompts, you are a completionist.

I know there are gonna be lots of other questions…so please send me an ask and I’ll add it to the list if it qualifies 🥰

[ghostxrose]

𝑶𝒇 𝑴𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑴𝒆𝒏 | 𝑩𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒈𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒊 𝒙 𝑶𝑪

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven |

Tags/Warnings ~ Fem!OC, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, potentially triggering content, universe-typical violence, Enji Todoroki (yes, that is a warning, he's trash), character death, (more tags to be added as story develops <3)

Note ~ Loveliiiieeessss!! Let me know what you think of the story so far!! If I'm being totally open with yall this story is my passion project and I'm a bit hyper-focused on it.. but if yall have any xReader ideas/requests don't be afraid to hit that ask button! Obviously, I love writing for Katsuki, but I'm also comfortable writing for Izuku, Shota, possibly Hawks.. If you have a request just send it in and I'll let ya know if I feel I can accomplish writing something up to your expectations! Enough of my rambles, enjoy the read! <3

Enji had managed to keep up his neutral facade despite the bubble of pride that had welled up inside of him at the sight of his daughter piloting his old Jaeger. He even congratulated himself for being correct in his assumption that Azusa and Bakugo would Drift well together. Watching the two exercise perfect control over Bravo Inferno and perform little tricks was admittedly quite entertaining. That was until his bubble of pride was harshly burst by the sound of the system’s AI telling Loccent that the pilots had gone out of alignment.

He watched with masked panic as Iida and Aizawa tried to get the two pilots stabilized again. Fear and embarrassment flooded him when he watched the arms of Bravo Inferno rise, the Jaeger’s palms beginning to glow molten red. Rangers and techs hurried out of the Loccent Command Center as seasoned Rangers cleared the observation platforms just outside.

“Pull the main power line!” Enji had shouted to Aizawa before he could even think about what else to do.

Aizawa was on the task in an instant, pulling at the large cable with all of his might. Finally, with one last grunt of effort, he pulled the plug from the control panel. Enji looked out to the Jaeger, watching with hidden relief as it began powering down. That’s when the anger began settling into his bones.

𖤛 𖤛 𖤛

“This is exactly why I wanted to pilot by myself! If she hadn’t gone out of alignment first, then none of that other shit would have happened! You’ve seen my damn sim scores, you know that I would never fuck up like that if it was just me in that Jae-”

“That’s enough, Ranger!” Enji’s sharp tone effectively cuts Bakugo off from his ranting. “You know damn well that you cannot pilot a Jaeger by yourself, no matter how good your simulation scores are-”

Bakugo exasperatedly cuts Enji off, acting like a petulant child, “You’ve done it before! You brought Mighty Endeavor back on your own-”

“Because my co-pilot died! Yes, I finished off that Kaiju and dragged my Jaeger back to the Shatterdome by myself, but I had to because my co-pilot was dead in his harness right next to me.” Enji bites out, anger twisting his features as he steps closer to Bakugo whose mouth is clamped shut with eyes averted to the floor.

“And do you know what happened after I got back from piloting that Jaeger by myself?” Enji asks half rhetorically, but he pauses and waits for an answer anyway, and Bakugo shakes his head.

“I became so sick from the radiation that I was bedridden. My body burned like I was on fire and I could barely keep conscious. For three fucking days, I was like that.” Enji grits out before he releases a tired sigh and partially turns away from Bakugo. “We still do not have the technology to run single-pilot Jaegers, and I refuse to purposefully put any Ranger through what I went through. Marshal Aizawa and I will talk about what happened today and decide what to do about your co-pilot pairing. You are dismissed, Ranger.”

Bakugo bows slightly and, surprisingly enough, leaves without another word. Enji takes a moment to recollect himself, trying to calm the anger racing through his veins, but then there’s a knock at his office door. Crossing his arms to hide his clenched fists, Enji tells the Ranger at his door to come in. The metal door squeaks as it opens and closes, Azusa walking into the office. She doesn’t sit but rather comes to stand a couple of feet in front of Enji. Her face is neutral, but her eyes hold a bit of anxiety among the rage and her anger only aids in fueling Enji’s own.

“Marshal Todoroki, I-” Azusa begins, but Enji doesn’t let her get very far with her sentence.

“What the fuck happened out there, Azusa?!” Enji starts, immediately letting his anger boil over as he lays into her. “You know, one look at your simulation scores would lead anyone to believe that you would be a strong candidate for becoming a pilot! But what I saw happen out there was pathetic and embarrassing! Who would have thought that the Marshal’s daughter would pull a fucking stunt like that causing another Ranger to fail! You let your co-pilot down today, Azusa! You let me down! You were an embarrassment to every single one of the Rangers observing!”

By this point, Enji is too caught up in his anger to even realize that Azusa has started silently crying in front of him. He can’t stop himself from yelling, can’t stop himself from spitting venomous comment after venomous comment. Deep down, very deep down, he knows that she didn’t do anything substantially wrong, but his pride and his ego won’t let him quiet down.

“What you displayed out there today was that you are no better than the Rangers that just got dropped here from boot camp! No child of mine would have made such an embarrassment out of the Todoroki name like that! You almost caused hundreds of deaths and millions of dollars in damages! Do you realize that?!” Enji spits, his shouting echoing off of the walls of his office as Azusa cowers in front of him.

What Enji says next slips too fast from his mouth to stop in time and he regrets them as soon as the words are spoken, “Toya would be incredibly disappointed in you! You don’t even deserve to pilot Bravo Inferno!”

A sharp gasp knocks some reality back into Enji along with the weight of the words he just shouted into his daughter’s face, and he looks down at her. Horrified shock fills her features as much as it does his, but sharing his shock is immense guilt. Enji is at a loss for words as he tries to think of how to take back or amend what just flew from his mouth. Floundering, he just stares at Azusa’s tear-soaked face, her hurt practically palpable in the air around them.

“Azusa, I-I didn’t mea-”

“Don’t.” She states quietly, making Enji’s words die in his throat. “I-I understood you loud and clear, M-Marshal. Permission to be dismissed, Sir?” Her voice is strained as she speaks and she’s just barely able to stand up straight and look Enji in the eye. All Enji can do is nod since the lump in his throat won’t let him speak.

He watches helplessly as she flees from the room, the door slamming shut behind her. Stunned by his own behavior, Enji slowly moves around his desk to sit down. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk, he buries his face in his hands. He doesn’t know how he’s even going to attempt to fix this kind of fuck up. He isn’t sure that Rei will be able to soothe over the hurt that he’s caused. She may not even be willing to offer him advice on the situation, not that he would blame her.

Enji spends more than a few minutes recollecting himself before calling Aizawa to his office. He’s exhausted now, all of his anger replaced by insurmountable guilt. He let his ego, his pride over his esteemed reputation, win just like so many other times in the past. Enji is the one who let Toya down today, not Azusa, and he fears that he really won’t be able to get his daughter back now.

Knocking pulls Enji out of his spiraling thoughts and he clears his throat before telling Aizawa to enter.

Aizawa enters the room quietly, closing the door behind him before he makes his way over to the chair in front of Enji’s desk. Aizawa just stares at the man for a few moments before letting out his famous tired sigh.

“What happened today was nobody’s fault, Enji. We both know that the chances of something like that happening during a team’s first Drift is highly possible. I’m just surprised that it didn’t happen with more of the other teams.” Aizawa says as he leans back in the chair, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

At Enji’s silence, Aizawa decides to move the conversation forward himself, “So did either of them request a different co-pilot? I’m sure we can switch the teams around, make it work.”

“No,” Enji utters exhaustively, deciding to end his silent brooding. “Bakugo just requested, yet again, to pilot by himself but I sorted that out already. We’ll keep Azu- Ranger Todoroki and Ranger Bakugo as co-pilots for Bravo Inferno, but we won’t send them out on any deployments until they go through a few more trial Drifts.” He states as he clasps his hands and rests his chin on them.

Aizawa straightens up in his seat, raising a questioning eyebrow at him, “I know that I kind of just advocated for them, but are you sure you don’t want to try putting them with other Rangers? I witnessed, just as you did, that they have the potential to work well together, but if they go out of alignment again and neither of them can bring the other back.. They won’t make it out in the field like that, Enji.”

“That’s why we’ll have them run through a few more trial Drifts. If this was a one-off type of situation, then they’ll be just fine. And if it happens again, we’ll either see if they can bring each other out of it or we’ll pair them off with other pilots.” Enji firmly states with a bit of frustration.

Aizawa relents with a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face, “Fine. I’ll have their Jaeger sent to one of the Bays with less foot traffic so that when they try again tomorrow there’s less of a chance for catastrophe if something goes wrong again.” He says as he types out the message on his tablet, then sends it to the crew in the Shatterdome.

Aizawa then looks up at Enji, the man being able to read him like a book after working with him for so long, “So how hard were you on her?” His tone is knowing but free of any real judgment.

“Too hard.” Enji admits reluctantly before continuing, “I said things that I shouldn’t have.. I wouldn’t blame her if she honest to god hates me now.” He finishes quietly.

“Well, I don’t know shit about parenting, so it’s up to you to figure out how to fix it, but do you want me to go talk to her?” Aizawa offers with tired nonchalance.

The perpetually exhausted man has worked with Enji for so long that Azusa along with her siblings sees Aizawa as family, or a mentor at the very least. Azusa has always gone to Aizawa if she needed to talk through some stuff, especially after Toya’s passing. So, Enji ponders the offer for a minute, thinking that it may help Azusa to have someone to talk to after what all just went down.

“It’s up to you, Shota,” Enji says with a long sigh. “She may not want to talk to anyone right now.” He says with defeat, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his hands over his face.

“Well, I’ll try stopping by her bunk, knock a few times, and if she doesn’t answer then I’ll leave her be,” Aizawa says as he stands up, wincing a bit when his knees crack loudly. “Try not to spend all day cooped up in here, Enji. Go get something to eat, scare the new Rangers, just anything to get you out of this office.”

Aizawa’s attempt at humor doesn’t do much to pull Enji out of his self-loathing, but he appreciates it all the same, “See you later, Shota.”

Shota leaves with a half-assed wave and Enji is left alone with his thoughts, once again. He thinks about stopping by the family bunker to see Rei, hoping that Azusa hasn’t talked to her yet so that he can have a few moments of peace with his wife before he tells her himself about just how badly he messed up this time.

Note ~ Lemme know if there are any tags I should add! I love and appreciate you, Lovelies! <3

Tag List ~ @tomiokasecretlover

Divider Credit ~ @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[blouisparadise]

Here are some great bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of February. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) A Sudden Desire | Explicit | 2558 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Whiskey (Kingsman).

Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

2) Whipped | Not Rated | 2595 words

It seems to be a normal day at scenting Inc, but the visit of a certain Omega gives everyone a different look on their boss.

3) Want Another Drink?| Mature | 3528 words

Note: Please take note of any trigger warnings and tags.

Louis finds his way to a club in town, wondering what this night could entail.

4) Historical Kisses, Unforgettable Night | Explicit | 3590 words

Harry has a thing for pregnancy.

He loves the fact that omegas are able to create and bring life to the world, even as fucked up as it is.

So when he spots a pregnant omega in Avenus orium he has to get close to him.

5) 3 2 1 Let's Begin! | Explicit | 3985 words

He went until Harry was red with it, moaning and shifting in his chair. And if Louis knew what Harry liked, he knew his tells even more. The second Harry’s leg twitched just so Louis withdrew his hand and dropped it to his side, Harry’s back arching off of the chair as he was denied any more pleasure so close to his release.

“Fuck,” Harry whined. Louis laughed.

6) Until I See You | Not Rated | 4475 words

Louis and Harry are college sweethearts who live on different continents. Louis makes a sudden, impulsive decision to go on a trip.

7) Excuse Me, Green Tea? | Not Rated | 4765 words

Harry is sure there's a magnetic force pulling him in. So he decides to run a meeting at the café to clear up his doubts and know why he can't get the waiter out of his mind.

8) Obviously, Genuinely | Explicit | 5492 words

Louis never thought he was gay, it just hadn't crossed his mind like that. That is until Harry comes along and discovers it for him. Harry decides that he sees fit into sending Louis into a gay panic causing all sorts of tension and confusion.

9) Back To You | Explicit | 11705 words

"Never underestimate Fate, Louis. As it is one of the things that people take too lightly as. Always remember little omega that no matter what happens, what's yours will always find its way to you. And if it doesn't, it was never yours in the first place."

10) Uncomfortable Truths | Explicit | 18125 words

“I can get him. I know I can, that part’s easy. But what the fuck do I do with him?”

“Do you want an honest answer or a good one?” Zayn asks.

Harry considers his options. “A good one?”

“Once you get him, you do all you can to make him happy.”

“And the honest one?”

“You sink your teeth in. Deep. And you hold on for dear life, because good things rarely last.”

11) Windsor Peaks | Not Rated | 23801 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Harry Styles/OMC.

Louis Tomlinson lost his parents when he was 8 years old. He was moved to an orphanage in London where he stayed until he was old enough to leave. Louis moved back to his home town of Windsor Peaks, to study and make a life for himself where his parents had lived and wanted to raise him.

Louis life was going well, he was happy, until two detectives from London turn up. Harry Styles and Scott Wolf are investigating a string of murders and a car accident that lead them to straight to Louis and his past.

Is Louis a suspect or is there something more sinister going on.

12) The Luna of Which Pack? | Mature | 72696 words

“This is cute, Lou. Really loving this faux innocent look going on. But if you ever want to get back to your beloved Simon, you better start talking. I may be kind to my family, but you, darling, are not family.”

Internally, Harry began patting himself on the back. He praised himself for not only besting the cunning, snarky omega, but also maximizing on this potentially negative opportunity that arose.

Then, Louis chirped up with a slick grin. “Perfect. I’ll shut up. Can I sleep in your bed again? It’s really comfy. Reeks of lonely ruts, though. You should really change your sheets more often, you know.”

13) Nothing Quite Hits Like You | Explicit | 81098 words

For many centuries, Inferis Lamia had been a college strictly for higher magic alphas, where most rulers of the Underworld had reached their Divine Enlightenment to become the alphas they were now. However, that year, for the first time since it was founded many centuries ago, the academy would welcome omegas from the Underworld, giving them the same opportunities alphas had, the same education.

14) Drops of Jupiter | Mature | 121826 words

In a small, sleepy town ruled by prejudice, Louis Tomlinson runs his grandmothers shop for the occult. He finds comfort in his tarot cards, his friends, and a dog that he doesn't have room for. He thought the worst he'd have to deal with would be bigotry, until a new sheriff arrives with a headstrong little girl that's impossible not to fall in love with.

But what happens when a string of break-ins leads to a brutal attack, and the towns' darling is murdered right under their Sunday hats? A murder that just so happens to bear the same modus operandi as similar homicides in neighbouring states. Has the killer been circling Virginia, or is he a local of Lavender Hills?

And what will Louis do when the charming Sheriff Styles starts to suspect him of such a heinous crime?

15) No Hello Just Goodbye | Mature | 142502 words

Louis had 9 months to try and convince himself out of it, but he knew from the very moment he saw the dreaded 2 lines that he couldn't raise the baby. Not when the conception took place against his own will.

Adoption was the only answer. He had no problems handing over his child nor did he endure any sort of regret. Or did he? 4 years after giving birth Louis sets out to search for his baby but what he finds instead is something he totally didn't expect...... Love.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[oneinathousand]

Mediocre Extras in Drowned God: Conspiracy of the Ages Re-release Leaves Price Questionable

Since the Epic Games Store doesn't let you review games and it's not on Steam yet (a release there is supposed to happen eventually), I'll have to make my review here.

Some of my followers may recall that when the 90's point-and-click adventure game Drowned God: Conspiracy of the Ages was illegally put on Steam for $15, I raised the alarm about it to get it taken down. As I came to learn later, this incident inspired the rights holders (producer Algy Williams, co-creator Alastair Graham, and creator Harry Horse's estate) to come together and produce a re-release that is currently on the Epic Games Store for $25.

Since the original source code was lost long ago, all the developers could do was polish it slightly to make it run better on modern computers and hopefully iron out the bugs, but to justify the price point the advertisements on the new website promised several enticing extras including: a new walkthrough, the original pitch documents, an all-new art book with never-before-seen art, and most exciting of all - Diary of a Plagiarist, the 11-volume tome Harry Horse created in the 80's that served as the inspiration for Drowned God but was thought to have been lost (well, not really lost, the guy Harry sold them to refused to sell them back).

When I brought up the illegal version of DG on Steam, I said then that the game by itself would not even be worth $15 even if it were an official re-release because 1. It's a short, linear point-and-click game 2. It's over 25 years old now. Do the extra materials make the $25 price tag worth it? I'm not so sure, right now I'm leaning towards "no, not really". I'll tell you what's in this package and you can decide for yourself.

First, the game, which is fundamentally the same as it was before. This is not a remake or a remaster, there are no subtitles to alleviate the often awful audio mixing, it's just the original game made easier to play now. The producer of the re-release said in a Q&A video on the DG Youtube channel that he thinks the audio mixing sounds a little better now than it did then, but I couldn't tell you because my Airpods broke recently and I had to play the sound through my potato laptop's speakers.

Well, at the very least, from what I've played of the re-release so far (I'm not planning on playing through the whole thing right now, I'm not strong enough to go through that goddamn 9 Men's Morris puzzle again, I'm sorry ;_;), it is indeed functional and the mouse sensitivity felt better from what I remember playing on my emulated version.

So the re-release delivered the bare minimum with the game, and if that's all you care about and don't mind spending $25 on it, have at it, but now onto the extra materials, which I feel are a mixed bag that wouldn't have been so disappointing to me if the advertisements had been more honest about what they contained.

I have no qualms with the new walkthrough and the original pitch documents. The former is made to look like a top-secret folder complete with bits of redacted text and handwritten notes, it's very cute. The latter is very interesting to those interested in the lore of the game, as it gives a very different picture about what the story could have been. There are many pieces of art and writing that depict very different scenarios for the player that were changed for the final release, such as a description of the original goal being to collect a key plus several pieces of a UFO to fly to Atlantis and raise it from the ocean, with no mention at all of Kether and Malchut.

As for the other main extras, I have my qualms. Firstly is the purported Drowned God Art Book, which isn't really a book at all but a booklet, a short collection of concept art and musings from Alastair Graham about Knights Templar and Mayan mythology that abruptly stops and mostly only shows art from the Binah section of the game.

Don't get me wrong, the concept art that actually is in there is great, but I was left wanting more. If those pieces of art that were there were all that the developers had managed to track down after all these years and they titled the collection something like "Drowned God Art Booklet", I would understand, but they oversold the art "book"'s contents by a long shot, I feel.

And I know for a fact that there's more artwork out there that for whatever inexplicable reason wasn’t included anywhere in this re-release, but I can’t go into more detail at the moment, I’m in the process of trying to find out what’s been going on with this topic and will hopefully be able to give an update on it in the future.

As for the "Diary of a Plagiarist", that was a straight-up lie. It's in fact just a handwritten letter from Harry Horse giving the premise, a few story details, explaining how and why he made the volumes, and apologizing that he couldn't remember a whole lot about what was in them because he could never get them back. Imagine paying 20-something bucks for what you think is a copy of Moby-Dick, only to open it up and just see a note from Herman Melville going "I think it was about a guy in a boat chasing a whale, I forgot, lol".

I'm glad we have these notes from Harry in this case because it's probably the most detailed information about DOAP that we're ever going to get, plus it has more concept art of what looks like an even earlier version of DG before the pitch documents. However, the ones who put this re-release together could have avoided pissing me and potentially other people off by just being honest about what it really was rather than pretending like it's the real deal on the website.

So what we've got here are a few pretty good pdfs that have been blown out of proportion in terms of their contents. If you think that plus the old game is worth $25 and you can spend that, go right ahead, but for the rest of you, I would recommend waiting for a sale.

I have a few ideas for what they could add onto the package in the future to make it more worth the price tag: 1. Include a text file of all the spoken dialogue and hard-to-read pieces of writing in the game for those who might need it. 2. Expand the art book to include interviews from the developers about the making of the game and put in those other pieces of art that weren’t there the first time. 3. Update the website and social media to be more honest about the contents of the extras. 4. If tracking down the creators of the game's soundtrack is feasible, create a new, remastered soundtrack that makes the music longer than the original short loops.

If they cannot add any of these things in the near future, then there is really no excuse for this to be $25. Other PC games that are about as old as Drowned God such as Fallout 1 and 2, Diablo 1, Half-Life 1, Quake 1, and more are not only much cheaper to buy, but have more to offer.

[rieindiegames]

FAQs for IseKai

As we're gaining more traction and exciting times draw closer, I've decided to make a super post that's accessible for IseKai fans old and new! I'll try to keep this updated for ease of access.

What is Ise & Kai: Chosen Throne?

Ise & Kai: Chosen Throne is an interesting take on the isekai genre, where you forge the destiny of the realm, and play as the protagonist, Seina Kaimana, who's fighting to escape her predestined fate. The twist being she's isekaied back into her own world to face the problems she'd fled from.

Best Shorthand Name for this Game?

Either IseKai or ICT work best!

What platforms will the game release on?

The game will be released for PC on both Windows and Mac. On Steam and Itch.io

Who can I romance?

Officially there are two canon romantic love interests to pursue in IseKai. Ceres Awle, the protagonist's loyal knight, and the other is Ise, esteemed demon king of the other side of the realm. Yes, Kai's name remains in the title, and I promise that's important.

Who's in the Main Cast?

I consider the main cast of IseKai to be Seina, Ceres, Ise, Kai, and Lucius. Everyone else, regardless of their part is a side character.

MBTI and Other Fun Details of the Main Cast?

Seina: MBTI - INFP, Birthday - November 9th, Height - 173cm

Ceres: MBTI - ISFJ, Birthday - July 20th, Height - 190cm

Ise: MBTI - ENFP, Birthday - April 2nd, Height - 185cm

Kai: MBTI - ISTJ, Birthday - December 27th, Height - 175cm

Lucius: MBTI - ENTJ, Birthday - November 5th, Height - 178cm

Is This Game SFW or NSFW?

IseKai is a mature game with NSFW content. Stay safe out there when you play the final product. Content Warning List: (Coming Soon)

I Missed the Kickstarter So Now What?

Your support is appreciated! Following the dev process and showing support in any capacity, monetary or not is appreciated!

Where Else Can I Follow This and Its Development?

Twitter - But it's a hellscape out there these days. I prefer Tumblr's specific brand of mad house.

Itch.io - The very place you'll be able to play most of our games other than our website!

Patreon - Tumblr has our Tumblr brand of special content but Patreon is where we post all the uncensored male-presenting nipple goodies ;)

Ko-fi - The lovely space where you can throw a few bucks, and treat me to ramen like we're two friends hanging out IRL.

Instagram - Purely aesthetic space. Not entirely active atm, but better to diversify.

Twitch - Breathe over my shoulder in real time when I stream! Be that dev-work or chilling with a game or two!

TikTok - One day there will be a video on there, for now it's just MySpace Tom Aesthetic.

Carrd- Virtual Business Card!

Tumblr Tags

#Ask - Any questions sent in relating to the content of my works or about them.

#Answer - Any questions sent in relating to me, something I perceive as personal, or a general response to an asker. Usually I'll leave comments in the tags on these posts.

#Lore - Worldbuilding post.

#Guide - Any time I answer something other players may find useful as a walkthrough of sorts, I'll use this tag.

#Character Card - Quick references and teaser cards to various characters.

#Short Story - Any snippets of the short stories I've written for my works.

#Isekaichosenthrone/IseKai - Anything related to Ise & Kai: Chosen Throne. Note if the name of the game is already written somewhere on the post, I may not tag it, as it'll still be searchable.

#Isekai out of Context - Out of context screenshot[s] of isekai.

#Ict Screenie - Any screenshots from ICT will have this label.

#ICT ??? - Any content with the hidden title screen character, Question Question Question, from IseKai.

#Ceres Awle/Ceres - Any content containing the love interest Ceres Awle from IseKai.

#Ise - Any content containing the love interest Ise from IseKai.

#Kai - Any content containing Kai from IseKai.

#Lucius/Lucius Kaimana - Any content containing Lucius Kaimana from IseKai.

#Seina - Any content containing Seina Kaimana from IseKai.

#Demonic Court - Any content containing members of Ise's demon court from IseKai.

#Kaimana family - Any content containing broader members of Seina's family from IseKai.

[dark-nekofear]

tagged by @kukiyuuri ur so sweet ty for the tag <3

ONE. Are you named after anyone?

*Office stare* whatever gave u that impression? :3c

yea my queer ass swiped Roxas' name as my own. I had a major identity crisis after leaving a cult a decade ago so it kinda felt fitting to pick the name with his own history with cults & identity issues hehe

2. When was the last time you cried?

couple days ago, tho I have a very hard time crying anymore. thaaaat's probs not good ^^;; I used to be a huge crybaby.

3. Do you have kids?

thankfully not. I'm enough work as is tyvm

4. What sports do you play? have you played?

I played street hockey with my neighbors quite a bit growing up, tho it was rather short-lived when they suddenly had a problem with playing with a girl (boy do I have news for them). in high school I joined the tennis team. I wasn't stellar at it but I had a blast. wish there were more opportunities to play but that requires other ppl wanting to play.

these days I've been reconnecting with my childhood love of rollerblading. I'm close to being as good as I used to be which is so exciting cuz there's so much I never mastered! so I'm about to cross over into new territory!

5. Do you use sarcasm?

what's sarcasm? ovo

6. What is the first thing you notice about people?

looking at the world thru an artist's lens, I notice things like posture, expression, body language first. which can tell u a lot about a person in the moment without a word being spoken.

7. What's your eye color?

blue! I think they're turning gray as I get older which is kinda cool but also a little sad.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

depends on my mood; both are good. so long as the story is told well anything goes really.

9. Any talents?

I suffer from the good at the arts but bad at everything modern society deems useful disease. my main talent is probs drawing, writing coming second (if I ever get the spoons to do it again). I'm also decent at singing with my long history with choir & leading worship services.

10. Where were u born?

the most boring place on earth -- the US Midwest. Siri, play "Sidewalks" by Story of the Year.

11. What are your hobbies?

a lot of my free time lately has been getting back into studying languages. I'm mostly focused on Japanese atm but I'm also at an intermediate level in German & conversational in ASL.

I game quite a bit too, primarily retro games. *screaming crying throwing up that PS2-era is now considered retro* seldom do I play things upon release except of KH.

oh, I'm also a casual fashion doll collector (mostly Barbie & Monster High). old media as well (vhs, retro games, music, etc). lost media & preservation of the arts in general really interests me.

I play guitar a bit too but lol I suck at it.

other hobbies previously touched on in earlier q's include drawing, skating, singing & writing. :3c

12. Do you have any pets?

I have a kitty! she's a dilute calico & a huge diva cuz she knows she's gorgeous. she's loud af just like me & loves talking to her fave humans in the sassiest tone possible.

13. How tall are u?

not tall enough. 165cm

14. Favorite subjects in school?

German (easily my best subject), art & English.

15. Dream job?

I've been thinking a lot about circling back to an old dream job. something utilizing my knack for picking up languages. maybe interpreting or teaching? I'd really like to go back to school so I can maybe have a decent shot at something overseas. where? I'm still deciding. being trans kinda complicates it a bit. with that in mind & having several instances of homelessness this past decade I've concluded the US isn't a viable place for me to continue living. I have a unique opportunity to rebuild rn & I intend to utilize it. even if that means allowing my art to return to being just a hobby.

ahh! sorry I'm totally ending this on a bummer note huh? uhh uhh... puppies! think of puppies!! & kitties!!!

anyway, I'll tag uhh... whoever wants to do this? >w<; u can obvi say I tagged ya.

[foli-vora]

return to main masterlist

Welcome to my Pedro masterlist!

Pairings and light summaries are below each fic title. Individual warnings are as noted on each fic.

18+ means strictly no minors.

You can join my tag lists here. Happy reading!

p.s—Find Frankie Morales here.

p.p.s—Find Din Djarin here.

- My Girl 18+

f!reader. MFM with Frankie. When Frankie decided to stay behind after your son’s first birthday to drink some beer and play some cards, he wasn’t expecting Dave to blatantly call him out for wanting to fuck you (his wife), or expecting the delicious follow up that came with his admittance.

- Spider

f!reader. Drabble. Fairly straight forward title.

- Lost Without You

f!reader. He had been your right person, it had just been the wrong time.

- Cravin’ 18+

f!reader. It’s a day for making up for lost time from work, and breakfast in bed.

- Ecstasy 18+

f!reader. Valentine’s Day drabble.

- After Hours 18+

f!reader. A titty fucking drabble.

- The Collection 18+

f!reader. A collection of mini drabbles of how you and Dave would use a variety of sex toys in your relationship.

- Sharpshooter 18+

f!reader. Your first date with Dave at the carnival wanders into hotter territory when he shows a certain skill.

Series:

- In For It / down for redo, returning 2023

- Patience 18+

f!reader. Patience wasn’t something you were blessed with, so Javier takes some time to help you with that.

- All Mine 18+

f!reader. Javier knew his lesson would come back to haunt him, and this time - he’s in the cuffs. What was it he said about patience again?

- Yellow 18+

f!reader. Post sex softness, wearing his favourite sunglasses.

- There She Goes

f!reader. A bad day seems to pick up when the attractive stranger offers you a gingerbread man and his umbrella.

- Marcus during shark week 18+

f!reader. Drabble. Fairly straight forward title.

- Happily Ever After

f!reader. Drunk reader is a handful, but he loves it.

- Reflections 18+

f!reader. Sweet soft Marcus trying to ease your body image demons.

- Santa Baby 18+

f!reader. Christmas fic. Sappy holiday present wrapping domesticity with our favourite Special Agent. He’s a distraction, and a wonderfully talented one at that.

- Broken Bond

f!reader. Request. The colour explosion soulmate AU in reverse.

- Traitor

f!reader. Drabble. Your life comes crushing down.

- You’re Somebody Else 18+

f!reader. A more in-depth oneshot inspired by Traitor. Your relationship was rushed, messy and beautiful. It was also a lie.

Series:

- Run To You 18+

f!reader. Following on from ‘You’re Somebody Else’. A year after your release from prison, an unexpected visitor comes asking for your help in solving a case.

- On Your Side 18+

Wait and see!

- Stay With Me 18+

f!reader. It’s comfortable in the sun, tucked into Jack and finally taking a moment to relax. He has to leave for a mission, but you have an idea that may keep him with you for longer.

- All I Need 18+

f!reader. Your anniversary dinner didn’t turn out how you planned, but Jack’s more than happy to improvise and have his favourite meal - you.

- The life he fucking DESERVED

f!reader. Drabble. Fairly straight forward title.

- Sunday Morning

f!reader. Soft cowboy wants you to stay right where you are, but laundry awaits.

Series:

- The Hardest Part (coming soon) 18+

- Strike Me Down 18+

f!reader. A group of mercenaries travel through your town, and much to your surprise, one slinks into your barn in the dark of night. Your intruder wasn’t expecting you, sword in hand, demanding him to leave.

- Hit Me

f!reader. Driving along the highway, the last thing you expected was the bounce of a body against your bonnet. Where did he even come from?

Series:

- One Step at a Time 18+

f!reader. Following the events of ‘Hit Me’, you’ve taken on the responsibility of helping a strange traveller adjust to the weird and wonderful times of the 21st century. Maybe he was bought to you for a reason.

Series:

- Hoist the Colours (coming evenutally) 18+

f!reader. fantasy!AU inspired by Pirates of the Caribbean and my wish of being a mermaid. Click title link for full summary…

- Glory & Gore 18+ (coming soon)

f!reader. dark!ezra. He'd stolen you, whisked you away from all you knew and loved and into the stars, never to return. You feel him try to break you, see through each honeyed word and soft touch... you won't let him win.

- Radio Static 18+

f!reader. Soft, smutty domesticity with the end of the world shadowing your tangled limbs.

- Gilded Lily

f!reader. The day he lost it all.

- Too Close 18+

f!reader. You freezing during a clicker attacks pisses Joel the fuck off and you bare the brunt of his anger.

- Once Again in Your Arms

f!reader. going through the outbreak with your baby and not knowing if your husband and step daughter have survived until a few years later.

- The Sun Will Shine Again

f!reader. Heavy themes of depression and suicide. Hurt & soft comfort. You find something to fight for.

[hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf]

Hatefuck

Yeah, I could get used to this

bully!wooyoung x female reader

Trigger warnings: bullying

Content warnings: strong language, wine chat with hongjoong (god i wish), crying, wooyoung wears a stupid looking apron.

Summary: it’s been two months and hongjoong demands to know why you’ve pushed everyone away. can wooyoung redeem himself?

Word count: 6342

A/N: i absolutely loved writing this, it made me sad =D anyways, i’ll probably release the third part in a week so i have time to finish the fourth part and decide if i’m doing a fifth or not. its super fucking sweet (and kinda hot tbh) so look forward to it! anyways read part one here! consider giving me a follow here and on my main. submit asks and requests here and consider turning on post notifications for regular uploads! i’ve got a couple things on the docket this week so be looking forward to it!

Tag list: @starlight-night0​ @teezers99​ @alecanal93​ @youre-a-wallflower-charlie​

<-Previous | Next->

It had been two months since Wooyoung left you alone in your bed after rearranging your guts. You made it a point to interact with him as little as possible, not even answering texts or responding when he tried to mess with you. If he approached you, you vacated the area.

 Just as you’d assumed, he’d told all the guys what had happened. So when Seonghwa texted you with a dinner invitation or Mingi sent you a meme, you just ignored their messages. You felt ashamed. You couldn’t walk into that house and pretend you hadn’t fucked one of their best friends when they knew the relationship you had with him. When you saw them on campus, you’d shove your earbuds in and crank up your music before they could approach you while pretending you hadn’t noticed them.

 Hongjoong was getting tired of you giving him the slip. After two months of you actively avoiding all eight of them, he stopped you at the library. He quite literally backed you into a corner on the second floor, which was much quieter than the main floor but still lively, and crossed his arms as he stood over you. “We need to talk. Now.”

 You shook your head. “I have class in fifteen minutes.” It was true. This wasn’t some ploy to dip out on him. You’d come in to grab a coffee and a book between classes. But he didn’t look happy and you found yourself chewing on the inside of your cheek, feeling guilty. “Look, I have to go. Can I just text you when I’m back at my place? I’ll send you the address and we can have a drink and I’ll explain everything.”

 “If you don’t reach out by this evening, I’ll be asking Wooyoung where you live and dropping by regardless.” You nodded and bit the inside of your lip. “I’m not kidding. We need to talk and we will be talking tonight.” His tone was firm but far from cold. He stepped back and motioned for you to go. “Get to class.”

 You immediately scurried off, letting out a sigh of relief at the fact this wasn’t a class you shared with Wooyoung. It was also your last class of the day. Unfortunately, this was a class you shared with Jongho. It had been difficult keeping a distance from the surprisingly-sweet boy when he constantly tried to sit beside you and start up a conversation. You’d managed to scrape by the last two months with awkward pleasantries and light chatter about your programming project.

 When you arrived at the lecture hall, he was already seated towards the middle of the room. You let out another sigh of relief at that, realizing he’d arrived before you and you wouldn’t have to endure another awkward encounter. You settled in at the back of the room and began scrawling notes when class started, counting down the minutes until you were free to leave. You quickly put your headphones in after packing your bag and hightailed it out of the room before Jongho could spot you.

 As you made your way across campus to your car, you pulled out your phone and sent Hongjoong your address. You also told him what drinks you had and said he was welcome to bring something of his own if nothing you had seemed appealing. Then you pocketed your phone and broke into a jog.

 Half an hour later, you were parking in front of your apartment. You thought you’d have a while to straighten up but as you reached the top of of the stairs, you saw Hongjoong sitting by your door. He offered a small smile which you awkwardly returned as he stood so you could open the door. “I thought you were hiding again when you didn’t answer.” He chuckled softly.

 “Ah, no. I get out of class at four. I texted you while I was heading to my car.” You explained as you unlocked the door. Both of you walked inside and slipped your shoes off. You hung your bag on the hook by the door and shrugged your jacket off, hanging it beside your bag before looking to Hongjoong. “I can take your coat if you’d like.”

 He quickly shed the extra layer and you hung it beside yours before leading him to the kitchen. It was quiet and awkward as you busied yourself with pulling out glasses for the wine he’d chosen. You poured the wine and passed him a glass before heading to sit on your sofa with him. You sat with your legs curled beneath you, your back against the arm rest, and he sat with one leg hanging off the couch as he faced you.

 “Y/n, what the hell happened?” His voice was low and full of worry. “I know you two hooked up but you’ve been avoiding all of us like the plague. We miss you.” You felt guilty and couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze as you spoke up.

 “You know how much he hates me after I told him I wouldn’t go out with him. He goes out of his way to make things harder for me. I’m surprised he’s actually left me alone outside of group work the last two months if I’m being honest.” You sighed, your eyes glued to the glass in your hand. “I gave in that night because I desperately needed to get railed. But as soon as it was over and I was laying alone in my bed, still covered in cum, I realized I’d fucked up. I knew he’d tell you all what had just happened and he’d be so smug about it. I knew nothing was really gonna change. I realized he just knew even more about how to get under my skin and he’d use that to his advantage. I was ashamed and embarrassed and didn’t want to face you guys for fear of what he might’ve said.”

 He took everything in quietly, nodding along as you spoke. “He didn’t tell us until a week later when he was having an argument with Seonghwa.” He paused and you bit your lip. “I’m not excusing how he’s treated you the last two years, that’s unacceptable, but I’ll be honest with you. He’s still head over heels for you. He’s been so irritable recently and nobody can mention your name without him getting crabby. Up until two months ago, almost every word out of his mouth was about you but now none of us can bring you up without pissing him off.”

 “Well he should’ve thought about how it would affect him before he effectively broke into my house.” You huffed and took a gulp of wine. “I’m honestly just surprised he’s stopped interacting with me in the last couple of weeks. Even after we slept together, he would come take whatever book I was reading or try to start an argument but I just kept blowing him off and I guess he finally took the hint.”

 “Y/n, I need you to stop.” You looked up with an irritated expression and he continued. “I’m not saying forgive him or even talk to him. But the rest of us didn’t do anything to deserve being iced out. We all really like you and want you to keep coming around.”

 “That’s the problem though.” You sighed, sipping your drink again. “The night I came over to work on the project, he was complaining about you guys being so friendly with me. Now I wouldn’t say we were particularly close, you all were nice enough to try and bring me into the fold. But he absolutely hated it. He insisted I had heart eyes after talking to Seonghwa and that I wanted to fuck all of you. In all honesty, the thought never crossed my mind, so I don’t know what he was so pressed about. I was more concerned with the fact that the best friends of someone who seems to hate me wanted to get close to me. I felt like I needed to keep some distance because it’s hard to be part of a friend group and have beef with one person in particular within the group. I know you guys are a package deal.”

 “We are indeed.” He agreed with a nod and sipped his wine. “But honestly we’ve all started to suffer since you vanished. Everyone is blaming him for driving you away - rightfully so - and we’ve all been arguing. He picks fights with all of us, saying we have no reason to be concerned for you and that he’s the only one who can worry about you. He’s convinced we’re all hopelessly in love with you. Don’t get me wrong, you’re great. But like you said, the thought never crossed our minds.”

 “Not even a little?” You teased, laughing quietly when he lightly kicked your knee. Then you grew serious again and bit your lip. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be treating you guys like this just because I’m ashamed of sleeping with him. It’s not fair to you guys. I’m just not sure how to move forward and deal with him without dealing with him. I’ve taken all I can take over the last two years and I’ve seriously considered dropping out or transferring schools to avoid him. If he hadn’t taken my rejection so poorly, maybe we could’ve moved past everything and been friends. He seems like a great guy when I see him with the rest of you guys and if he had stayed like that with me, maybe none of this-”

 Your phone buzzed, signaling a message. “Speak of the devil.” You laughed ruefully when you saw his name displayed on your screen. What the hell did he want?

 Bastard: whatever Hongjoong says, it’s not true

 You: so you’re not dying to see me and regretting every bad thing you’ve ever done?

 You wanted to mess with him a little. You locked your phone and turned your attention back to Hongjoong. “I’m not telling you to subject yourself to his bullshit again, but please stop pushing the rest of us away. They all feel like they’ve done something to upset you even though they know otherwise. Jongho comes home with a pout, complaining his favorite noona won’t talk to him in class.”

 “I can’t possibly be his favorite noona.” You shook your head as a small smile settled on your lips. “The class I just had, we’re in that one together and every time I get there before him, he seeks me out and sits with me. He chatters on excitedly about everything going on in his life and the last two months I’ve just been nodding along. The conversations have gotten awkward because I’ve pushed everyone away. I feel bad but I’m not entirely sure how to face Wooyoung.”

 “Why don’t you join us for dinner tomorrow and see how things go? You can ignore him and just enjoy spending time with the rest of us. They’ll all be thrilled to see you again.” He nudged you with his knee. “He’s been eating in his room recently anyways because every meal with him has just resulted in everyone fighting.”

 You weren’t sure. You wanted to see them but you didn’t know how to handle things if you had to see him. Hongjoong sensed your apprehension and leaned forwards, taking your hand and giving you a warm smile. This was all the convincing you needed. “Okay. I’ll come to dinner. I feel like I owe everyone an apology. But keep it a secret, yeah? I kinda wanna surprise them.” You grinned and his smile grew wider.

 “I can do that.” He agreed instantly, nodding vigorously as he sat back. “So…how have classes been? Or rather, how have you been in general?” He asked, opening up the conversation to flow in a more lighthearted direction.

 “Classes are beating my ass right now.” You groaned and took another gulp of your wine, finishing your glass and setting it aside. “Honestly, if it weren’t for your invitation, I’d probably be spending tomorrow night studying. Finals season is closing in and if I have to keep looking at code and business lingo, I’m going to gouge my fucking eyes out.”

 He could only laugh at your misery, nodding along in agreement. You continued to chat for another hour before he stood. “It’s almost six so I should go. They’re about to start on dinner and I told Yeosang I’d help him tonight.” You stood with him and led him to the door, saying your goodbyes. He caught you in a tight hug before leaving you alone in your apartment, a small smile on your face. It felt good to let everything out and catch up with him. Hongjoong had a way of comforting everyone who came to him with a problem. You went to take the glasses back to the kitchen and saw your phone light up again.

 Bastard: ….okay, maybe. But you shouldn’t be hearing that from him. I think we should talk.

 You: I don’t know if we should, Wooyoung. I don’t know if I have the energy anymore. I’m so tired.

 Bastard: Can I come over? Please? I promise I won’t try anything funny. I just want to clear things up. Plus I’m on dishes tonight but they won’t make me do them if I’m not here to eat lmao

 You: Wow. A whole child. Fine. But one misstep and you’re gone.

 Bastard: Thank you. I’ll be there in ten.

 You: Then you can help cook. I’m making meatball subs.

 Bastard: You’re a sub

 You: Thin ice, buddy

 Bastard: Sorry

 You put your phone down and picked up the glasses, heading to the kitchen with them. You put them in the sink and pulled out a pot, putting it on the stove. You began your prep work and by the time you were done, Wooyoung was knocking at your door. You let out a sigh and went to let him in.

 “I’m sorry. You didn’t respond so I don’t know if you saw it but I’m sorry about the sub thing.” You almost laughed when that was the first thing he said. You stepped aside to let him in and just shook your head, letting out a sigh.

 “I saw. I didn’t have a response so I just went about my business.” You shrugged and locked the door back, as was habit. He kicked his shoes off and followed you to the kitchen. “I have a couple rules.” He looked at you expectantly so you continued. “If I say stop, you shut your mouth. Also, as punishment, I want you to wear this goofy-ass apron.” You held up a frilly pink apron with ‘Kiss the Cook’ emblazoned across the chest.

 He groaned in frustration but put the apron on and you got to work, directing him around the kitchen. While the food was cooking, you were standing shoulder to shoulder with him at the stove. You decided now was as good a time as ever to bring up something Hongjoong said. “You’re the only one who can worry about me, huh?” Your voice was quiet and your eyes didn’t leave the sauce you were making. “Kinda funny coming from the one who created every scenario in which someone could worry about me.”

 “I- uh-“ he cleared his throat awkwardly and you saw his knuckles go white as he gripped the spoon tighter. “Look, I know I’ve been an ass.” That was an understatement. “I’ve treated you like shit since you turned me down. I’m not gonna try to deny that. I just felt like if I didn’t mess with you, I couldn’t talk to you because things would be awkward after you rejected me. I felt like I couldn’t approach you normally after that and innocent teasing became full blown bullying. I’m not trying to excuse anything, I just wanted to explain why I acted that way. I know I’m in the wrong for everything that happened over the last two years.”

 “You are.” You nodded, stirring away at the sauce. “Honestly, if you’d just acted like nothing happened, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. We could’ve been pretty close. I wouldn’t feel awkward befriending the others while trying not to step on your toes and make things worse for myself.” You sighed and dropped the handle of the wooden spoon, turning to face him. He stared down at the food, refusing to look at you. He looked like a scolded child.

 “I’ll sound like a bitch if I say I’m blaming you. But honestly, I’m okay with that. I do blame you for how things went south. I’m not gonna pretend to understand and follow your logic, it doesn’t make sense to me, but I will agree you had every right to feel hurt when I said no. Everyone feels hurt after a rejection. I just wish you’d been fucking normal about it instead of treating me like shit. I seriously considered dropping out or transferring to a different university or changing my major to get away from you. I dreaded seeing you. But after you fucked me dumb and dipped, only to resume your bullshit, I couldn’t keep doing it. I gave up. Your shit wasn’t worth the energy when I could be doing more productive things.”

 He looked like he wanted to cut in but he kept his mouth shut, his ears going red. If his hair hadn’t been hanging over his eyes, you would’ve seen them watering a bit. “I was relieved when you stopped trying to bother me. I finally felt like I could walk around campus and not dread running into you. But I had already started icing out everyone else and they didn’t deserve that either. I guess Hongjoong got fed up with your antics at home and me brushing them off every day because he cornered me today and demanded to talk.”

 After a few seconds of silence, you turned back to the sauce and continued to stir. The silence didn’t last though. “I’m sorry.” You felt like you hadn’t heard that right. He’d never apologized to you before. “I’m sorry for everything. I didn’t realize how hard I was making things for you. I knew I was willfully being an ass but I didn’t realize you’d considered dropping out just so I’d leave you alone. Hell, I never knew I made you cry until a few months ago when Hongjoong lit into me after chatting with you. I don’t want you to leave. You didn’t deserve any of what I did and I’m sorry.”

 You didn’t speak, just nodded as you listened. He stopped messing with the food and simply stood there as he spoke. “Nothing about what I did was normal. I spent the last couple weeks reflecting on everything and I started therapy. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. I want it desperately but I know I don’t deserve it. I haven’t done anything to earn it.”

 The two of you stood in silence again for a brief moment before you spoke up. “You’re right. You haven’t done a damn thing to earn it. You haven’t done anything to show me you’re going to change. You showed up to talk but you haven’t proven anything. You don’t deserve it, you’re right.” He let out a soft sigh and you turned to him again. “But for some godforsaken reason, I feel inclined to give it to you.”

 He looked up from the food, surprise written all over his face as he turned his head to look at you. You stood there staring at each other, faces heating up from the weight of each others gazes before he finally spoke. “But….why? I mean, even if I hadn’t been an asshole for two years, leaving you alone that night would’ve been enough for you to cut me out. We went hard. You were bound to need aftercare and I just bounced. I mean, shit, I was bruised up from all the hitting and that bite, I can’t imagine you were in better shape. That alone would’ve been enough for you to be done with me even if we hadn’t had a strained relationship at best. So why?”

 “That’s an excellent question that I don’t have an answer for.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around your middle. “And I can confirm, I was indeed in worse shape. You left hickeys everywhere and I had bruises on my hip and wrists from how tightly you held me. And let’s not forget how irritated my knees were from that position.” You laughed in spite of yourself and shook your head. “I can’t make it make sense, Wooyoung. Maybe I’ve lost the ability to put up with shit. Maybe you fucked it right out of me.”

 For the first time ever, he gave a genuine laugh at something you said. It wasn’t hateful, it didn’t intimidate you. He genuinely sounded joyful as he fully turned to face you rather than just looking at you over his shoulder. You tensed noticeably as he wrapped his arms around you, still laughing even as he pulled you into his chest. It was strange being held like this by him of all people but you didn’t hate it. You were about to wrap your arms around his waist when he opened his mouth. “Kitten retracted her claws.” He snorted and you glared up at him, swatting his chest.

 “You ruined it. It was going so well and you ruined it.” You deadpanned as he looked down at you in confusion, his laughter stopping immediately. He quickly caught on and gave you a sheepish grin as he reached up, slapping his own lips and muttering a soft ‘sorry’. You let out a sigh and rolled your eyes as a smile tugged at your lips. “You’re fucking stupid sometimes. Don’t make it a habit.” You let out a soft laugh and gently pushed him away, returning to the sauce, which was now ready to be poured over the meatballs. “I think….if you can keep acting like this, things can work out. Minus the names, of course. I only let partners give me pet names.” You gave him a pointed look.

 He nodded slowly, helping you lift the pan to pour the sauce over the meatballs. “I can do that. I’ll stop with the names too. If I call you a name, you can flick my forehead or something. Just don’t give me a concussion, I’ll probably slip up a lot. I’m kind of an idiot, in case you hadn’t noticed.” He snorted, his body shaking with laughter.

 You could feel the vibrations of his laughter in his chest against your back. You didn’t know why he chose to stand behind you and wrap his arms around you to help but the position felt intimate. He’d had you in far more intimate positions before but something about the shift in his personality paired with this action made your face heat up. You cleared your throat as you shook yourself back to reality and shook your head. “I can’t make any promises on the concussion.” You chuckled as he backed away, laughing softly with you.

 He grew quiet after a moment and you could feel his eyes boring holes into your back as you mixed the meatballs into the sauce. “This is nice…” his voice was just above a whisper and you gave a tiny nod before directing him to grab the cheese from the fridge while you got the bread.

 “Hongjoong invited me for dinner. They’re gonna be confused as hell tomorrow when I rock up and you try to make conversation instead of hiding in your room to avoid me.” You hummed as you began to assemble the sandwiches. You handed him a plate and shooed him off to the table while you fixed your plate. When you joined him at the table, you tilted your head and stared at him. “How have they been? I know I talked to Hongjoong and he said everyone’s been fighting. He said Jongho’s been all pouty. Has it really been that hard on everyone?”

 He nodded almost instantly and you felt your heart sink. “I’ve been….sensitive about it all and bitching every time they bring you up. They’re mad at me for driving you off and they’re honestly hurt that you just disappeared overnight. I think it’s safe to say everyone misses you.”

 You nodded slowly and began to eat, feeling guilty for being the source of this mess. “Well, now that you and I have come to some sort of agreement on things, they’ll be seeing a lot more of me than they ever did. Not as much as you did, but still.” You gave a little laugh at his stunned expression and shook your head. “It’s okay to joke about it. I may get a little indignant but that’s normal teasing and I can accept it. Teasing is okay.” You assured him and he nodded, continuing to eat.

 It was oddly nice sitting with him and chatting over dinner. The two of you chattered on about all sorts of things, eventually lamenting about the programming project and how much still had to be done before it was time to submit it in three weeks. “Like I told Joongie, if I have to keep looking at code, I’m gonna gouge my eyes out.” You groaned, slumping in your seat. He laughed and nodded but stared at you for an uncomfortably long time and you were about to ask if something was on your face when he spoke.

 “You know, I was just thinking about it. You have nicknames for everyone else but you’ve only ever called me ‘asshole’. Now that we’re working on things, do I get a nickname too?” He looked hopeful and excited, like a puppy, and you felt warm inside. Yeah, you thought, I can get used to this.

 “Well first off, I don’t have nicknames for everyone.” You rolled your eyes as a smile settled on your face. “I don’t have a name for Yeosang, Mingi, or Jongho. Maybe I’ll call Yeosang Sangie or something.” You chuckled and crossed your arms. “Why don’t I just call you Woo like the rest of them do? Or Wooyoungie?”

 “I like both of those.” He wasn’t about to admit how much he liked them. The guys used those names for him and it was just…normal. But hearing you say it? He felt like he’d just been washed in battery acid. He was still hopelessly in love with you but he wasn’t sure he’d ever tell you that. He didn’t know Hongjoong had already spilled the beans though. He cleared his throat after a moment of silence and stood, taking the apron off. “It’s already almost eight. I should go. We’ve both got a ton of homework to do.”

 You nodded and stood with him, taking the apron and draping it over the back of your chair. “Do me a favor?” You hummed as you walked him to the door. He looked up at you as he slid his shoes on, waiting for your request. A grin broke out on your face as you spoke. “Don’t tell them you were here and that we’re mostly okay now. Hongjoong is the only one who knows I’ll be there tomorrow, I told him to keep it a secret because I want to surprise them. I think it’ll confuse them further if we’re just…getting along after two years of fighting.”

 He laughed and nodded. “Gladly. They think I’m at a bar looking for girls right now anyways.” Why did that bother you? You shook it off and laughed with him, seeing him off and locking up behind him. Once alone, you let out a sigh.

 “What the hell did I just get into?”

  ————————————

  Hongjoong had texted you twenty minutes ago saying they were halfway done cooking. You’d taken ten minutes to freshen up your makeup and redo your ponytail before gathering everything you’d need. Ten minutes later, you were standing at their front door. You’d texted Hongjoong and Wooyoung both to notify them of your arrival and now you were trying to calm yourself before knocking. You were excited.

 You knocked and it took a few minutes for the door to open but when it did, a stunned Mingi stood before you. You stood there with a bright smile as you waited for some sort of response. Finally, you were engulfed in a warm hug and he pulled you inside. “Oh my god. Hi. I didn’t know you were coming.”

 “I told Joongie to keep it a secret. He came by my place yesterday to talk and invited me to dinner.” You explained as you gently pulled back so you could remove your shoes and drop your bag. Mingi took your jacket and put it on the hook by the door before leading the way to the kitchen, where everyone was getting seated at the table.

 At first, no one really noticed and San called out without looking up, asking who was at the door. When Mingi didn’t answer, he looked up and one by one they all noticed your presence. All of them looked shocked but delighted as you waved. Wooyoung patted the space between himself and Hongjoong and you sat between them as everyone voiced their surprise. “Joongie came to see me last night and invited me for dinner.” You explained as Seonghwa jumped up to fix you a bowl. It was uncomfortably quiet as they all looked at you, perplexed as to why you showed up seemingly out of nowhere. “So…what’s up?” You looked around, starting to feel uncomfortable at the silence and the way they all stared at you.

 That seemed to be the kick needed to start the conversation and the room filled with chatter as Seonghwa placed a bowl of rice in front of you and gestured to all the dishes in the center of the table as if to tell you to dig in. As everyone tucked in, Hongjoong leaned over towards you. “Thank you for coming.” He whispered and you offered him a small smile.

 As you turned back to your food, Wooyoung placed a piece of meat on your rice and you muttered a tiny thanks as the rest of them exchanged quizzical glances. Hongjoong was the only one who expected the exchange so you weren’t surprised when Seonghwa’s narrow gaze zeroed in on you. “Okay, what’s going on here? You show up out of nowhere and suddenly he’s playing nice. What is happening?”

 “Well….Joongie stopped by last night and we talked about how I just dipped on you guys and how it was affecting you all. I recognize it was wrong of me to let my issues with Woo get in the way of our friendship and I’m sorry for cutting you guys off.” You sighed softly and sipped your water before continuing. “Not even ten minutes after Joongie left, Woo was at my door. We talked things over and he apologized for everything. We aren’t entirely okay yet, but I think there’s hope.” You explained, everyone quiet save for the sounds of them munching away and sipping their water.

 Yunho was the first to speak. “I mean, you gave him a nickname that wasn’t ‘asshole’ so things must be looking up.” He chuckled and everyone erupted in laughter as you nodded.

 “He actually asked me to give him a different nickname over dinner last night.” You laughed and picked up the meat he’d given you, quickly shoving it in your mouth followed by a spoonful of rice. “I told him he had to stop giving me nicknames though. He should pick one or two and stick with it.” You laughed, holding your hand in front of your mouth so no one saw your chewed food.

 Dinner went smoothly, everyone involving you in conversation and Wooyoung repeatedly putting meat and veggies in your bowl. It was strange but pleasant and certainly not unwelcome. When all the food was gone and everyone was leaving the room, Seonghwa reminded Wooyoung that he was on dishes tonight since he skipped out last night. He pouted but dragged himself from his seat and began to gather the dishes from the table. You stood and decided to give him a hand, bringing the dishes over while he got started on washing them. “You wash, I dry?” You hummed as you brought the last bowls over.

 He looked at you surprised before smiling and shaking his head. “Ah, you don’t have to.” You didn’t listen, picking up the dish towel anyways.

 “You helped with dinner last night.” You shrugged. He stared at you, not moving until you nudged him. Finally, he gave in and sighed, muttering something about your stubborn streak and handing you the first bowl.

 You shared banter as the two of you cleaned up and after a few minutes, everything was clean. You were about to head to the living room with the others when you felt wet hands on your cheeks. You let out a soft squeal and threw the towel at him, laughing as you started to wipe your face. You didn’t get very far before his large hands were back on your face. You went back and forth like this for a few minutes, laughter filling the room, before he stopped. His hands had dried by then so there was no more water to wipe on your face.

 But something in him broke when you looked up at him with that smile. There was a sparkle in your eyes he’d never gotten the chance to see. He’d been going about everything all wrong the last two years. He could’ve been having fun with you like this but instead he was making your life miserable. You froze as he hurriedly pulled you against him, burying his face in your neck. “W-Woo…”

 He shook his head as he held you. “I’m not gonna.” It was a simple reassurance that he wasn’t about to try to get you in bed again. “I just…I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry.” He whispered, he breath tickling your neck. He sounded close to tears and you instinctively wrapped your arms around him.

 “I won’t lie and say it’s okay.” Your voice was soft and warm. “But we’re moving past that now.” Your hands splayed out over his back, rubbing circles there to soothe him. “It wasn’t okay. But we will be.” Those words were the last straw for him and you felt his shoulders shake, his breath hot on your skin as he let out a quiet sob.

 You stayed like that for a few minutes, rubbing his back as he cried into your shoulder and repeated soft ‘I’m sorry’s. Your heart broke and you credited that to how softhearted you were. When he finally pulled back to wipe his tears, your hands moved to his cheeks, not letting him back away. “I’m not gonna be able to forget and erase the last two years. But I do forgive you.” You murmured as your thumbs swiped his tears away.

 It was strange being there for him in such a raw moment after everything that had happened. His eyes were full of regret as he looked down at you and you gave a tiny smile, pulling him closer. You leaned up on your tippy toes and kissed his forehead and he almost broke down all over again. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve for you to just…let me in. How can you be so nice to someone who hurt you so many times?” You just shrugged and continued to run your thumbs over his cheekbones.

 “I dunno.” You said simply as your hands fell from his face. He caught them in his before they could drop back to your sides. “I always told myself that if you treated me like you treat everyone else, it wouldn’t be hard to get close to you. You’re a fun person. I can see that much even with my warped view of you. You’re the life of the party. The mood maker. You’re so smart and you build people up. I was honestly kind of jealous whenever you told the others they were doing a good job on the project but you didn’t so much as look in my direction. I felt invalidated. I knew not to expect much from you.”

 He looked hurt by your words. You could see that without him making eye contact as he played with your fingers. “But I can already see a change in you. You seem to regret everything and you’ve even started therapy. I must say, I never thought I’d live to see the day The Jung Wooyoung broke down in my arms.” You both gave a soft huff of laughter and he sniffled quietly. “I know you’re making an effort to better yourself and repent for everything you put me through. And I appreciate that so much.”

 “You blocking us all out gave me time to think and I came to a realization.” He looked up from your hands and met your gaze. “I thrived off our interactions. I knew I was pissing you off but at least I was getting to talk to you and be around you. I realized what I was doing to you wasn’t healthy. I wanted to keep you in my life and I knew I could only do that if I changed.” Your face was starting to flush under the intensity of his stare. “I’m gonna keep trying to be a better person so I don’t run you off again. I know I haven’t given you anything but my word, which shouldn’t mean shit to you at this point, but I’m trying.”

 “I know.”

[moonstrider9904]

Pairing: Captain Rex x Fem!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Explicit sexual content. 18+. Dirty talking, orgasm denial, hickey, clit stimulation, vaginal fingering, some female masturbation, light authority kink, prelude to female oral receiving, needy reader, partially-clothed reader, clothed Rex, slightly dom!Rex.

Note: Come get y'all juice, my dear Rex lovers!

Word count: 843

Kinktober Day 23: Orgasm Denial

prompt list used | @the-purity-pen | kinktober masterlist | main masterlist | join my kinktober taglist |

“Still can’t believe how wet you are, mesh’la,” Rex whispered into your ear just as his fingers massaging your sensitive clit applied more pressure. “Blows my fucking mind.”

A little whimper left you, so high and needy that you would have been embarrassed if you weren’t sitting on Rex’s lap with your back pressed to his chest, your legs spread as wide as you could, your lower half completely bare. Your head rested back on his shoulder, and with a firm grip, Rex held onto your jaw, his thumb occasionally slipping into your mouth for you to suck on it. 

You’d never been more at Rex’s mercy. You felt the bulge in his undersuit trousers pressing up against your tailbone, the feeling of it pulsing underneath you driving your mind into racing, and your breasts hastily moved up and down as you breathed in pants, anxious for your sweet release. He could look down on your chest as it heaved from the pleasure; you felt Rex smirking proudly into your skin before kissing your delicate neck, where he’d leave a generous mark, knowing it would get you to squirm even more.

A sensual chuckle escaped him—you were adorable when you writhed in his grip.

“R-Rex, baby…” your voice trembled. You bit your lower lip, moaning long and silky into the air, ready to let him take you into paradise. 

“Are you close, mesh’la?” Rex purred into you, smiling sweetly, yet still lusting after you.

You nodded quickly with your eyes closed, pressing your body even further back onto him. You were so close, so willing to feel your climax, so much your hips rut against his hand to give you more and more sensations; it was impossible not to want to go all the way with Rex.

And that was when his hand left your clit.

You angled your body to look at him over your shoulder, your gaze wide and still dazed, and you couldn’t help but feel confused at his actions. Against your will, another needy little whine left you, and without thinking, you reached for Rex’s hand in an attempt to bring it back between your legs.

“Uh-uh, sweetheart,” Rex chuckled before leaning in and kissing your chin. “I can’t let you cum now, it would be rude of me to finish this so soon. Don’t you agree?”

You knew he was teasing you; you breathed quickly, wanting to turn around, only to have Rex wrap his arms tighter around you, his strong frame holding onto your figure better. Rex then began to kiss your cheek and he went to your jawline, his lips featherlight and loving as his hand trailed painfully slowly onto your thigh, making its way between your legs again.

“I… Please, Rex,” you breathed. “I want to feel good… I want to cum…”

Rex gave a seductive laugh. “Maker, you sound so beautiful, mesh’la…”

His hand reached deeper down, and you knew what he was trying to do. You lifted your hips up to grant him better access to your entrance, and finally, his finger slid down into your walls and curved to stimulate you better while the ball of his hand still had access to your clit.

You sighed in relief at finally feeling his touch again, hoping to the universe he’d finally let you slide over your edge.

“Rex…” you whined when you felt close again.

The hand that secured your jaw tightened ever so slightly, reassuring his dominance.

“You’re going to cum when I decide,” he whispered into your skin before kissing you tenderly. “Do you understand?”

It was hard to argue against him when he was being so alluring, but your desire was still too great. You took one of your hands to your clit and rubbed on it in whatever space Rex’s hand left, moaning softly at the sweet sparks that were beginning to fly around your body. It was as if Rex could feel you getting closer to your orgasm, even if it wasn’t hard to notice from the way your body moved and your breathing deepened.

Again, you were ready, and again, you were happily awaiting the heat that would spread to every edge of your being.

And again, Rex retrieved his hand before you could reach it.

While you whined at him, your mind quickly spun some of its gears, and you turned around again, looking at Rex with wide, pouting eyes.

“Please, Captain,” you begged. “I’m being such a good girl…”

Rex moaned to himself out of sheer adoration for you. “Damn, mesh’la… I know you’re being a good girl for me.”

He tightened his arms around you and helped you up to sit you back down on the bed while he got down on his knees in front of you using his hands to spread your thighs again. “I know you’re always good for your captain.”

“Then…” you pouted again. “Can you please let me cum?”

Rex chuckled, lowering his lips and hovering them over your aching cunt.

“I’ll think about it,” he smirked at you.

[ynscrazylife]

i’m a simple gal...... i like seeing natasha being overprotective and a little homicidal SO could i please request some cute mentor!almost itherlynat x reader? maybe reader gets badly hurt during training or someone on the team hurts her feelings? mamabear stabs? 🥺

More Than A Mentor | n.r fluff fic

Summary: After an accident, Y/N realizes her and Natasha’s relationship goes beyond mentor and mentee.

Authors Note: Thank you for requesting! I’ve missed writing Marvel/Natasha.

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/marvelocks

Natasha was not an easy mentor, and Y/N learned that quickly. She was understanding and patient, yes, but she also knew when to push Y/N and went to be a little stricter. 

The thing was, Y/N was never completely sure what side she’d get of her mentor at what time - though she found herself not having to worry about it after . . . The Accident. 

That disastrous day would go down in the team’s history, yet no one liked to talk about it. It was a day Y/N would never forget: it changed . . . everything.

It was one of the rare days that Y/N wasn’t training with Natasha. She had a meeting with Fury so Steve filled in for her. Y/N was not accustomed to training with a super soldier, and had to quickly adjust (it didn’t make it any easier that he had his shield, too). 

She was doing well - at least, she wanted to think that she was - and so far had deflected almost every punch from Steve, managing to get one or two punches against him herself. 

Nonetheless, the air was knocked out of her when Steve slammed her against the mat. She grunted, angry only fueling the pain when she saw that stupid smirk on his face, and used that to her advantage; he wouldn’t expect her to recover so quickly (and in truth, neither did she) but she did it anyway, throwing all her weight against the Captain. She secured he legs around his waist like Natasha taught her and, using the strength in her legs and pushing his broad shoulders, just about managed to get herself out from being pinned on the mat. Now, though, they were both sorta sitting on the mat, so Y/N kneed him in the chest, pushing him down. 

“You’re good,” he whispered, just slightly out of breath, before he - seemingly without using any strength at all - threw her to the side where she rolled. 

Y/N cursed under her breath, getting her feet. It was impossible to win against a super-soldier! Think, Y/N, think, what did Natasha teach you? Cmon! 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steve grabbing his shield, and got in a stance to either catch it or evade it - she hadn't decided yet - when yells distracted her. In her hyped up, adrenaline-pumped state, the first thing that came to Y/N’s mind was that someone was hurt. She was about to call of the training when a large, solid force smacked into her stomach, sending her flying into the air where she hit the wall, losing consciousness. 

Steve's eyes widened, not thinking it’d actually hit her, and jumped into action. “Who the hell screamed?” The blonde yelled as he ran to his fallen teammate. He carefully turned her on her back and looked her over for injuries, seeing bruises and bleeding starting to form on her stomach and ankle and her head bleeding. 

Bucky and Sam practically crashed inside the room, trying to beat each other. 

“He threatened me!” Sam exclaimed. 

“He tried to steal my metal arm!” Bucky defended. 

Both men came to a screeching halt when they digested the scene, though. Steve rolled his eyes at his idiotic friends and tried to put pressure on Y/N’s head wound. “Sam, get Bruce, please. Tell him to prepare med - and Bucky, get Natasha. She’ll want to be here,” he ordered, and the men nodded, guilty. 

Steve carefully picked Y/N up in his arms and hoisted her into the air, carrying her to med where Bruce and Helen were, Sam explaining the situation to them. Instantly, Helen jumped into action. She instructed Steve to lay Y/N down on one of the med’s beds and then ushered the men out of the room, where she then began grabbing various medical things and assessing Y/N’s injuries, instructing Bruce to hook her up to an IV.

Steve and Sam stood outside, not saying a word to each other, both pacing back and forth. They did not have to be silent for long, though, because pounding footsteps soon approached and the men looked up to see a very furious Natasha with Bucky trailing behind her. 

The redhead’s eyes fell onto the closed med doors and huffed, turning back to Steve. “I leave her with you for training one day and she gets hurt?!” She demanded, crossing her arms and glaring at him. 

Steve swallowed. “Nat, I-” He began to say, but was cut off. 

“What happened?” Natasha asked. 

Steve glanced up at her, first irritated when she asked him a question and then interrupted him whilst he was answering, but backed off when he saw the urgency, the nervousness in her eyes; she was scared. Scared that Y/N was really hurt and guilty. 

“We were training. I threw my shield at her, expecting her to catch it or duck . . . But Sam and Buck distracted her and it hit her,” he said, not wanting to throw his friends under the bus but also knowing he had to be truthful.

Natasha stood in place, processing the information. She took a breath, and had almost completely calmed down when Bucky decided to open his mouth.

“Y’know, if anything we tested her. What if someone yelled during a mission? Is she gonna get distracted then?” He mumbled, not really meaning it but wanting to spare him and Sam Natasha’s wrath.

Karma’s a bitch, though, because it did the exact opposite.

If you blinked you’d miss it: Natasha swiftly turned and pushed Bucky against the wall, pinning him there with his hands above his hand.

“Don’t you dare start blaming this on Y/N, you hear me?” She said in a low tone, glaring.

Bucky quickly nodded and Natasha released him. When she did, the door opened and Helen appeared.

“She’ll be okay—” Helen began, and Natasha let out a breath of relief, “—but she does need to be off training for at least a month. She has a concussion, broken ankle, and . . . the shield sort of stabbed her in her stomach.”

It took a couple moments for all four to digest this. Steve paled and Natasha’s crossed arms for tighter as she bit her lip. “Can I see her?” She asked.

“She’s still unconscious, but yes,” Helen answered, nodding.

Natasha almost failed to contain the gasp lurching to leave her throat when she saw Y/N, all bandaged up. The spy gulped and sat down beside her, not knowing what else to do other than sit there, and had no clue what she’d say when Y/N woke up because she sure as hell wasn’t leaving her. Thankfully, Natasha had some time to think it out.

Almost a day later and Natasha hadn’t left — Clint had convinced her to go sleep and eat for a couple hours, but that was it — and now, Y/N woke up.

“Ms. Romanoff?” Y/N murmured in a haze of confusion, squinting her eyes to see her mentor curled up in a chair, reading a big book.

Natasha snapped her head up and immediately sat forward, a smile covering her face. “Y/N! You’re awake? How are you feeling? And how many times have I told you to call me ‘Natasha’?”

Y/N blushed but nodded. “I’m fine, probably the painkillers’ doing though . . . How long was I out?” She said.

“Around a day,” Natasha answered.

“Did you . . . Did you stay here?” Y/N asked again, a little smaller this time, playing with her blanket.

“Most of it, yeah,” Natasha murmured, relaxing into the chair.

“Really? You’re-you’re not mad?” Y/N said, eyes wide and jaw dropped in surprised.

Natasha scrunched her face up. “What? No — of course I’m not mad! You’re like my daughter! How could I be—?”

Natasha was cut off by Y/N’s loud, yet thankful gasp. The teenager sat up and wrapped her arms around Natasha and, after a moment, Natasha smiled and wrapped her arms around her too.

Y/N truly was like her daughter, and mothers were always protective over their children.

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MCU Taglist: @stephanieromanoff @summerlovingbaby @ineffablebean @okkulta @procrastinatingsapphictrash @prettysbliss @mochamoff @sarahp-stan @thewidowsghost @basiclesbianbitch @mycosmicparadise @kidswhofightmonsters @extraordinary-fangrl @peggycarter-steverogers @username23345 @ima-gi--na-tion @hateinthemorning @hi-i-1 @mmmmokdok @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @mads-weasley @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[nctsworld]

reigniting

✩ mark x reader | dance au | enemies to lovers | car s*x | smut | fluff | 1.6k

SUMMARY ⇾ your hate for your dance captain (and ex-best friend) melts and evolves into something more for the night. WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ smut (near the end), car s*x, swearing, angst in backstory RATING ⇾ mature FOR ⇾ @markleesflathead​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ yes i’m bitter that most of my fics in ask form don’t show up in tag so i might have to post them as individual fics hhh || @markleesflathead​ idk how this ended up into car s*x but i’m sorry if it isn’t what you really expected slkfmd also i’m v flattered to be one of your fave writers *_* thanks for the bday wishes!!

“I missed this.”

Mark suddenly says into the air after catching his breath from all the laughing he just did. With the hand that’s been resting on the steering wheel since he parked the car fifteen minutes ago, he swipes his thumb against it.

Your laughter subsides too, turning your head in the passenger seat to get a good look at him.

The closest street lamp isn’t near enough to cast a light to see all his features clearly, but you don’t need much lighting to see the waver behind his bespectacled face, nor the way his Adam’s apple bobs.

“I missed you,” he whispers softly, then matches your eyes with a tilt of his head.

The beginning was simple. You and Mark, best friends since middle school, about to attend the same university and were going to do everything together, including extracurriculars.

Which included the university’s main competitive hip-hop dance team, since both of you were on your high school’s too.

From what you heard from upperclassmen, every year, the team offered at least five spots open. Of course, Mark and you were confident in yourselves and each other to make the team.

But during your first year, only one spot was available on the team.

The straining of your friendship began to slowly occur, since you saw less of each other in order to train more individually for the auditions.

And when the auditions happened, there was a new tension between Mark and you. Still friends, but competitiveness was a prevalent wall between you two.

The wall grew larger, tangled with vines of jealousy and bitterness, when Mark received the spot, not you.

Both parties tried hard to keep the friendship afloat, but it eventually came crashing down.

“You’re just fucking jealous that I got in and you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” you said. “and I should be, because I’m the better dancer.”

“As if.” he scoffed. He spat out the next words venomously—

“If you were better they would’ve chose you, but you’ve just never been as good of a dancer as me.”

That was the last time you spoke to Mark... for a while, at least.  

When second year came by, you decided to prove him wrong and obtain a spot on the team. Successfully, you did, but partway through the term, the captain dropped out and, to your dismay, Mark was given captaincy.

Fast-forward to today, Mark constantly gave you shit during practices and you knew it was personal.

Sure, you could’ve quit, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. However, you always did wonder why he didn’t decide to kick you off the team when he had the power to do so.

Following one practice, Mark ordered you to come by the studio on a separate night for a talk. He claimed it to be extra training, but you were mentally prepared for him to finally remove you from the team.

However, you were wrong and the unexpected happened—the wall between you two began to crumble. The hostile professionalism during the extra session grew into an area of familiarity, remnants of a lost friendship. After the session, Mark swallowed his pride and apologized about what he said back then, even offering to take you out to dinner.

During the meal, both of you caught each other up on the last year or so, and at the end of the night, Mark drove you home.

Laughing, smiling, and talking with you like the last couple of years were a nightmare faded into nothingness.

And you didn’t mind it, because you missed him too.

But instead of telling him that, you nibble on your bottom lip and rock your head forward with a small smile.

Continuing the conversation from where you left off, after Mark agreed to stop giving you such a hard time during practice, you say, “Can I ask you to stop doing one more thing during practice?”

“What’s up?”

“Please, for the love of God,” you say with your hands clasped in a prayer. “Stop rolling your shirt sleeves up, it’s terribly distracting.”

A hearty chuckle escapes from Mark, leaning his head back into the headrest. “Why is it distracting?”

“You know why!” you exclaim, beaming. “I know you do it on purpose!”

He cocks an eyebrow playfully. “And why would I do that?”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, "Because I know the oh-so humble Mark Lee still loves it when he gets attention."

The driver runs his tongue over the bottom of his teeth in a smirk, hand still on the steering wheel.

"And what about you?” he retorts. “You must still have a thing for arms if you think it's distracting."

You gasp inaudibly, unsure of how he could still remember that tidbit after all these years, and you twist your upper body to inch near him, glaring at him accusingly. "Is that why you do it?"

"Maybe, maybe not..." he shrugs nonchalantly. Leaning closer to you, parroting your stance, he adds in a teasing whisper along with a squint of his eyes.

"You'll never know."

There’s a passing beat as your eyes lock, one that carries the weight of the years of loving each other as friends, hating each other as enemies, working together as dancers, and everything in between.

A moment of connection that represents what everything has been working towards to for a long time, even if you never thought you’d have the chance to ever have Mark in your life again.

His look falters for a millisecond, flicking to your lips, then straight back to your eyes as if he shouldn’t have done that.

The corner of your mouth lifts slightly.

"Are you going to kiss me, Mark,” you whisper daringly. “or are you going to keep staring?"

You’re awfully aware of both of your breathing. Yours, heavy and wanting. His, light and barely existent.

"How do you know I wanna kiss you?" he croaks, a small crack in his voice underlying his question.

Because maybe a little part of you always wondered what it’d be like for Mark Lee to want to kiss you since you were kids—for him to send you that anxious starry-eyed yearning that could send your heart into cardiac arrest.

And now, from first-hand experience, you know it really does.  

You hold your breath and question back—

"Am I wrong?”

The tension in the air snaps. He’s fast to cup your cheeks and crash his mouth into yours. Soft lips move in tandem with yours as you rest your hands on his shoulders, lightly tugging at his body.

The first, tender kiss is quickly thrown aside, along with your shirts. The desire escalates immensely and you’re suddenly straddling him in the driver’s seat, now pushed back to give extra room for both individuals.

"Should we slow down?" you ask offhandedly at one point while Mark’s mouth leaves a hot trail down the side of your neck. At the same time, his fingers glide and grip onto your bare waist, making their way to grasp your breasts.

Mark jerks away from your neck and carefully caresses the back of your head. "Do you want to?"

"Mm-mm,” you hurriedly shake your head and drag him into another strong kiss.

The exciting rush continues to run through both bodies present. When you return to the passenger seat momentarily to rid of your pants, Mark shimmies his bottoms and briefs down to his ankles and pulls a condom from his glove compartment.

“How often do you have car sex?” you joke, straddling him once again after he wraps himself.

In his reclined position, Mark looks up and scans your body quickly, both indulging in your natural beauty and in disbelief that you are here with him right now, after all these years.

“Hey, a guy’s gotta be safe—fuck, God.”

All quips and logic are thrown out the window when you sit on his length.

You have one hand pressed against his defined stomach, the other on the car ceiling. Bouncing with no end in sight, you allow the pleasure to enrapture your senses. Muffled whimpers reverberate against the inner side of your wrist as you feel him deeply with every movement.

On the other hand, Mark tries his best to keep his focus on you, but the intensity breaks him down. He groans in pace with your moving body, and he tightens his hold on your waist.

“Mark—” you cry. You rip your hand from the car roof and, without thought, frantically push it against the driver’s window, smudging the frost that all your collective breathing conjured up. You’re surprisingly already coming undone, and so is your lover beneath you.

“I’m close,” he pants thickly. His hazy gaze attempts to meet your half-lidded eyes, but you’re losing control. All you can do is barely nod and as you’re about to bounce more vigorously, Mark releases your waist and raises himself upward, clutching your back and neck to lock lips fiercely with yours.

You barely can thrust against him, but you don’t need to at this point, because the kiss is simply enough to draw out his climax.

You’re pulled back to reality after a few moments, panting with your foreheads tipped against one another.

“And to counter your question from before,” Mark grins, still breathing heavily. “I’ll only stop rolling my sleeves up during practice if you stop tying your shirt up to show off your waist.”

You try to stifle a smirk, but it can’t be helped. You reply to him with a flutter of the tip of your nose against his.

“No deal, captain.”

nctsworld’s birthday week celebration!

[itsallyscorner]

For Tom x

Pairing: Tom Holland x singer!reader

Summary: You have a surprise for Tom:)

Warnings: none, just pure teeth rotting Fluff:)

A/n: Hello my loves! This is literally a rewrite because I accidentally deleted the original version of this story on Tumblr RIGHT before I was gonna post it😭 Anyway here it is, I hope you all like it! Ally x

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

look at my sunshine🥺

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Your giggles filled the hallway as you lead Tom into your makeshift studio. Since you were quarantining with him and his mates in their shared home in London, you were miles away from your crew and studio. Which, yes, made it difficult to record an entire album on your own—but it did give you the creative freedom to do whatever you pleased for the album.

The boys had their own creative outlets; for example putting together a puzzle or having a movie marathon. While you found those activities enjoyable, the inner singer in you couldn’t stop thinking of beats or coming up with lyrics in your head. You needed the studio—you needed to bring those beats and lyrics to life before you could forget them. So with the help of the houses’ tech lord himself, Harry made it possible for you to have your own little studio in the spare guest room of the house. There, you spent endless days writing and recording things like harmonies and building melodies. Little did you know that this would lead to the creation of your sixth album. Now a couple months later, your latest album is currently in its final stages and would soon be released to the world.

Tom adoringly watched your figure, which was drowned in one of his oversized jumpers, excitedly skip towards the guest room. As soon as you were both inside, you rushed to close the door and eagerly pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“What have you been up to, lovey?” He teasingly asks you. He knew you were up to something, he just didn’t know if it were bad or good.

Your figure was bent over the desk where your laptop was located. Turning over your shoulder you tell him, “It’s nothing bad, I promise!” You’re met with an amused grin on his blush pink lips.

Gathering your laptop into your arms, you move to sit beside Tom on the bed. He curiously leans forward, trying to get a glance at what’s on your screen.

“Nuh uh, it’s a surprise, Thomas.” You playfully scold him and gently push his face away from your laptop. He responds with a pout against your palm before pressing a kiss onto your skin. You continue to click around on your laptop, looking through your documents for the specific file.

Meanwhile, Tom shuffles further up the bed, getting comfortable. He notices the new distance between you and him and decides that he’s unsatisfied with the additional inches. He choses to snake his arms around your waist and lifts you up, happily placing you on the empty and lonely space on his lap. Laying down on his back, he takes a moment to admire the way you look in his jumper. It was a few sizes bigger than you and stopped right above your knees. The jumper may have looked good on him, but it looked absolutely perfect on you.

“You look so cute in my jumper.” He hums, hands lazily rubbing up and down your thighs. Your nose scrunches up as you lightly slap his chest; your silent way of saying “shut up” whenever Tom would say something that made you blush.

You finally find the file you were looking for and place your laptop on your lap. You nervously glance at your screen, biting down on your lip out of habit.

“Ok, so I did something.” You started. Tom squints his eyes at you, “That sounds like the beginning of a really bad something.”

You huff, “I just told you it wasn’t anything bad! Do you want your surprise or not?”

Tom chuckles and grasps onto your thighs, “Yes—yes, sorry, keep going.”

“So you know how I’ve already finished my album?” You question him. Tom nods, staring up at you while you sit on his thighs.

“Well, I wrote a few more songs that were supposed to be on the album. But I don’t know, I felt a bit greedy and decided to keep them for myself.” You explain. Tom raises a brow at you, “Baby, you don’t have to feel guilty about keeping songs to yourself. If you don’t want to share them, you don’t have to.”

“No, it’s just that, they’re about you.” You pause, staring down at your fingers that fiddled together. “Like I wrote them specifically for you to listen to. I wanted to include them on the album, but it just didn’t feel right to share something that was meant only for you.”

You place your laptop on the bed and turn it so the screen is facing Tom.

“So...as a solution, I made you your own album.” You were too busy avoiding his stare, that you missed the twinkle in Tom’s coffee colored orbs. He carefully sits up, his arms around you getting tighter, as he pulls you closer into his chest. Tom ducks his head down to yours, nudging your nose with his to get you to look at him. When your eyes finally meet, the lopsided grin on his features grows wider.

“You made me my own album?”

“Yeah.” You shyly answer. Tom softly coos at you, cupping your face and pressing a chaste kiss onto both of your cheeks.

“You are the most precious thing in the world, sunshine, I swear.” He squishes your cheeks together and began to cover your face with butterfly like kisses. Sweet laughs erupt from you, the sounds making Tom’s heart swell.

You stuff your face in the space between his neck and shoulder, using it as a place to hide from his lips. Instead, Tom opts to lay his kisses along the side of your face, your neck, and your shoulder.

“Lemme kiss you!” He whines. You chuckle at him, finally moving away from his neck. His attention darts towards your lips more than once, prompting you to lean forward and connect them with his. Tom’s lips were soft against yours, like clouds or cushiony pillows. The kiss was short and sweet; though it didn’t prevent you from feeling the adoration and passion he felt for you in that moment. In fact, he felt it all the time, but right now, his love for you was coursing through his veins.

He finally pulls away, leaving the taste of him linger in your mouth. “Can I have a listen?” He motions his head towards your laptop beside him.

“Go ahead.” Tom’s arms unravel from your waist, the area they once occupied left cold and yearning for his warmth. He uses one of his elbows to hold himself up and the other to control the touchpad. His eyes scan the file.

For Tom x

someone like u

test drive

worst behavior

main thing

He glances at you, “I start with ‘someone like u’, right?” You reply with a quiet “mhm”.

Tom clicks on the link. The opening notes of ‘someone like u’ begin to play followed by your angelic voice. You hear him release a content sigh, making a small smile to form on your lips. His arms make their way around you again, this time holding you closer against him. He rests his head on your chest and sneakily presses a kiss onto your neck. You fondly run a hand through his curly hair and rest your chin on the top of his head, listening to the songs you’ve made for him.

The two of you listen through the album in one go with no stops. You found joy in Tom’s reactions towards every song. Sometimes he would make little comments or sounds of shock whenever he heard you hit a certain note. He nodded along to the beats of ‘test drive’ and ‘worst behavior’, dancing around in his seat and making you join him. This time, you didn’t miss the twinkle in his eyes when he listened closely to the lyrics. ‘Main thing’ got him the most, leaving him with a goofy-lovesick grin plastered onto his face.

When ‘main thing’ came to a close, the room became silent, leaving Tom enough time to process the four songs you wrote about him and the meanings behind them.

You were the first to speak, “So did you like it?” You scan his face looking for any signs of dislike.

Tom’s eyes widen, “Are you kidding me? That was bloody fantastic—that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard! I’m obsessed with it, oh my god!” He expressed, arms moving around as he spoke.

His face was radiating with happiness, “You are the most talented and loving woman in the world. And I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve you or your love—but I just love you so fucking much.”

“I love you so fucking much too, you dork.” You laugh, pecking his lips.

“No, but seriously, thank you so much. I know you’re used to writing songs, but the fact that you actually took the time to write songs about me means a lot. They’re just a bunch of songs, but they mean the world to me and I cherish each and every one of them.” He admits, taking one of your hands and placing it onto his heart. Your palm feels the faint rhythm of his heart beating against his chest.

You tilt your head at him, mirroring the smile on his face, “I’ll always write songs about you. You somehow manage to inspire them anyway.”

Tom smirks, “Well I am Tom Holland.” You snort and roll your eyes at his humble brag.

“You’re still a dork, Tommy.” You comment.

Tom shrugs, “I’m a special dork because I’m your dork. Therefore making me superior to the other existing dorks—there’s a difference, darling.”

“And where did you come up with this hypothesis, Mr. Holland?” You question him, playing along with his antics.

“It’s Tom’s Theory.” He answers with feign seriousness. You burst out laughing, “Oh is it?”

Tom leans down to your laptop and restarts his album. “Yes, and now Tom’s Theory, believes that we should listen to the album again until I learn all the lyrics to every single song.” He proclaims.

“Babe, you don’t have to—” Tom stops you, “I’m dead serious.”

It was going to be a long night.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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Tom Holland + characters Taglist

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