#but since I already talked to them about it I really don’t think that will happen

[fgumi]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LOSER IN A HOT MAN'S BODY

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, school!au, headcanon, WC; 2.8k, A/N; i love losers that love that girlfriends entirely too much but, at the same time, not enough. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso }

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ part two is up!

loser!heeseung was never the first one to get chosen for anything. well, he did get chosen first for musicals and solos! he had a beautiful voice and there was no denying that. but, for anything else? nope. it wasn't until you transferred over to his high school that he got picked willingly (and not because you guys were the only two left). you approached him in gym class after your teacher said to partner up for conditioning. "hey! i'm y/n. do you think we could be partners today?"

heeseung just blinked at you and then turned to see if someone was behind him. when he verified you were talking to him, he turned back to see you with a bemused look, a slight crease forming right between your brows. "you are talking to me, right?" he asked nervously.

a wry smile formed on your lips as you nodded. "there’s no one else around."

heeseung couldn't believe it. someone who wasn't a part of the theatre department was talking to him! so, he agreed with only a moment's hesitation. by the time sit-ups came around, heeseung knew about your basic interests and one secret: you were big on anime. you explained to him, during his sad attempts at pushups, that you loved anime but remained closeted because the boys at your last school made it weird. heeseung was careful not to let his excitement show; he didn't wanna scare you off before he really got to know you. eventually, after all the hellish exercises your teacher put you through, heeseung shyly asked you why you wanted to be partners.

"you looked like the type that doesn't judge people for struggling," you replied after drinking your water. you wiped the droplets of water that trickled down your neck and then offered heeseung some. "i don't have cooties. promise."

he gave you a faint, unsure smile, his hand reaching out slowly, half expecting you to pull it back and say psych! but you didn’t. you just patiently waited for him to take it. honestly, he just looked like a spooked deer to you, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. after class was over and it was time for lunch, heeseung deflated. it was nice talking to you while it lasted.

“heeseung! wait up!”

he turned to you with round eyes, watching you rush over, a backpack draped over your right shoulder. you were freshly showered, water still dripping off the ends of your hair. you looked... happy? you slowed to a stop right in front of him.

“do you mind if we eat together?”

you wanted to eat with him? a cool girl like you wants to eat with a certified loser like him?

“it’s okay if you already have plans! i think i can find somewhere else to sit.”

no! you jumped a little. heeseung retracted into himself, rubbing the back of his neck. he’s never had someone ask to eat with him. he just sort of sat with his theatre classmates—not even friends. they all thought he was weird. you gave him a puzzled look.

“are you sure? you don’t have to pity me just because i’m new,” you pouted. gosh, was it just him or did everyone find you adorable?

“i’m sure. i was just hesitant since i’m not known for being, you know, popular.”

rolling your eyes, you clapped a hand on his shoulder. “as if that actually matters.” you tugged him along, linking your arm with his. thank goodness you were busy looking for the cafeteria because heeseung was struggling to keep the blush off of his face. as much as heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up, he hoped that you guys would become real friends.

loser!heeseung loved his hobbies. he could talk about them for hours; they were his passion. he loved playing maple story, league of legends, team fight tactics, going to the renaissance fair, studying the metrics of trot (this one was a little too niche to really talk about though). none of these passions were greater than his passion for you. this man was dedicated to learning everything there was to know about you now that you were friends. you teased him about how stalkerish he sounded. almost immediately, he apologized.

the way his shoulders shrunk and eyes drooped down, you were definitely the asshole. when he stopped talking, you panicked. so, you didn’t think. you kissed his cheek. you blinked. he blinked. you blinked at each other. you know that ouran high school host club scene where tamaki realized haruhi is a girl and she complimented him? you’d bet your whole house that’s how red you were because you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

heeseung’s mind was still white noise. any sounds that were supposed to reach his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. was he underwater? was he dragged down into the depths of the styx river only to be lost forever? was he dreaming to cope with the harsh reality of his death? was he—

“heeseung?” you meekly called. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that without your consent. that was—”

he must’ve called upon achilles’s guidance and invincibility because he didn’t know where he got this courage otherwise. what courage you may ask? well, the courage that planted heeseung’s lips on yours.

your lips were so soft. they tasted like strawberries. he wondered if strawberries were your favorite fruit. he could kiss you forever. oh crap, he was kissing you.

anxiety crept up his spine, invading his every nerve; it was telling him he had to pull away or else you’d leave him forever. except, when he started moving away, he noticed you followed, reluctant to end the kiss. your eyes were closed too. he could’ve sworn they were open from shock.

heeseung could feel his back creaking in protest at the odd angle; he would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for you clutching the front of his shirt. huh? oh! maybe, you liked the kiss! you liked the kiss, like he did! oh, but now he couldn’t breathe. what should he do? he didn’t want the kiss to end.

he pressed back, holding out until the last possible moment. but you pulled away first, gasping for air. a blush dusted your cheeks and heeseung could guess that he was red too—probably not as pretty of a shade as yours though.

“s-sorry,” he stammered as you caught your breath. “i don’t know why i—”

you shut him up with another kiss (but this one was too short for heeseung’s newfound thirst for kissing you). when you pulled away, his big eyes tugged at your heart. they looked so sad that you moved away. it made you giggle—this whole situation. for someone that was trying to learn everything about you, he sure did miss your huge crush on him.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how he got so fortunate. was he a luck domain cleric in real life? he felt like he was rolling nat 20s continuously. he managed to ask you out (though, he was stuttering the whole time and nearly tripped on top of you—it was a whole affair that he’d rather forget) and be dating you 3 years later? he was one lucky man. and, some might say even luckier as time went on.

you got more confident once you guys got to college and, thus, you got hotter. you found your sense of self and your fashion reflected it. heeseung wasn’t doing so bad either. he found people that he got along with and could proudly (read: shyly) call friends. he found beomgyu in the league discord server that the university had and jeongin in d&d club! he’d meet up with them every once in awhile whenever they all felt like they needed to touch grass. of course, his friends knew you came first. you were heeseung’s everything. what they couldn’t wrap around their heads was how heeseung was your everything.

“you’ve been dating for 3 years!? no way, man.” “are you secretly rich? the son of some big conglomerate?” “all offense, she’s hot and you’re… not.”

heeseung didn’t let that bother him. his friends were idiots that had never felt the touch of a woman. plus, you trained him better (you told him to stop talking about himself like he was your pet, but he refused). you loved him so much without any strings attached. you were patient with him and listened to him ramble about how league kept nerfing his favorite character with every update. you never tried to change him and you told him it’s because you fell in love with him for how he was. but, there came a day when he wished you did. he happened to overhear a conversation between you and your friends.

“girl, there’s no way you’ve been with heeseung for 3 years and he hasn’t picked up a single thing about fashion from you.” “the face cards are mismatched, ma. you’re up here and he’s not even on this plane.” “don’t you ever get embarrassed whenever you guys go out? i mean, he dresses like he’s stuck in his mom’s basement.” “i hope he compensates in other ways because he’s not doing it where i can see.” “how are you okay with someone that much skinnier than you? doesn’t your body dysmorphia get triggered?”

you stopped talking to those girls after that. however, it didn’t stop heeseung from getting hurt by it. it was true, in heeseung’s eyes. you deserved much better than what he was giving you. how is it that you loved him even though he looked the exact same as he did 3 years ago? there were so many hot guys around and you never so much as turned your head to glance. there was nothing to support his insecurity about being hot enough or being enough in general. nonetheless, that horrid conversation sparked something in heeseung.

“baby, i’m heading to the gym. i’ll be back later to cook us dinner, okay?” if your brows raised any further, they’d merge into your hairline. “the gym?” heeseung nodded firmly. “gotta start working out to combat all the ramen i eat.”

“hee, you haven’t gained weight since we started dating, despite you eating my leftovers and your food. you don’t need to combat anything,” you laughed. when you saw heeseung was still tying the laces on his shoes, you let it go, thinking nothing of it. you kissed him and reminded him to stay hydrated.

thus began heeseung’s gym journey. it was difficult. muscle barely stuck even though he was eating well over 3000 calories. but, he could see his body getting toned, more cut, so he was happy. maybe people would stop looking at the two of you like you were wrong.

his wishful thinking remained at that. despite getting noticeably more fit, people still talked. they talked about his fashion, his haircut, and his hygiene (he thought this one was unfair considering he always did skincare with you and loved doing your nightly routines).

so, on the day you told him you were going thrifting, he asked to tag along. you were taken aback. heeseung never came with you; he didn’t see the point when he had perfectly good clothes at home. but you let him come along. you thought he’d just peruse with you or be there to make sure you paid with the card he gave you (he made a lot of money from his internship and begged you to use it for anything you wanted), but he didn’t. he asked a lot of questions.

“do you think this would look good on me?” “do these go together?” “are these good quality?”

you were excited. going thrifting was one of your favorite hobbies and to see heeseung taking such an interest in it was thrilling. you gave your opinions, always with a disclaimer that fashion is up to preference. he nodded along, processing your words. by the end of your thrifting trip, heeseung went home with a bundle of clothes to wear. the next day, he’d wake up earlier than normal to try and piece his new clothes together. he knew he wasn’t good at it. his friends let him know without reservations. hell, your friends let him know with their skeptical looks. it wasn’t until he talked to sunghoon in the gym that he got some actual constructive criticism.

“you’re taking an interest in fashion?”

“nothing crazy,” heeseung muttered, kicking the dust on the floor. “i just hate the comments y/n gets whenever her friends think i’m not listening.”

sunghoon looked at his gym buddy in pity. “look, man. if everything you’ve told me about your relationship is true, i don’t think y/n cares what you wear. she hasn’t in 3 years. what makes you think it’ll change all of a sudden?”

nothing. he didn’t doubt you. he just got sick at the thought of you having to listen to all those criticisms. so, sunghoon helped him. he showed him his pinterest moodboard and made heeseung swear to never tell anyone that’s how he chooses what to wear. after that informative session, heeseung got to work. he used your instagram feed as a reference, wanting to match your aesthetic, and created a moodboard inspired by it. using his pinterest board, he went thrifting by himself. he recalled the countless videos he watched while sorting through the clothes. cotton, not polyester. depending on the stain, you can get it out. tailoring is always an option when you find something that is a little too big!

he was very serious about his transformation. he even digitally scrapbooked the pictures of him in different clothes so he could be like cher in clueless. since then, his fashion started improving. your morning routines together changed ever so slightly with you telling him to spin for you. his heart warmed with every compliment you gave him.

“who is this diva?” “i feel very underdressed. i’m changing.” “are you getting dressed by law roach?” “you’ve been taking dress to impress a little seriously these days.”

heeseung’s confidence soared. now, he wasn’t ashamed to go out with you. your friends weren’t ashamed to be seen with him either. they even went as far as to compliment him! score! he’d gotten brownie points with your friends.

“finally, he’s dressing like a boyfriend fit to be with you, y/n.”

oh, that made you pull the brakes real fast. it completely escaped your mind how much your friends dissed your boyfriend (because you brushed them off as stupid comments). come to think of it, heeseung always did manage to miss the moments where they talked about him, but only by a minute or two. what if… what if he did hear those comments?

curious and worried, you asked him during your nightly routines. “hee, did… did you start dressing up for any particular reason?”

uh oh. heeseung hated lying to you; it physically pained him. so, he confessed. “i heard what your friends think of me and i didn’t want you to have to keep hearing them say things like that.”

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry you heard that,” you cooed. “i didn’t tell you because not even an atom of me agrees with them. i love you as you are, uni tees, basketball shorts and all.”

heeseung put down the moisturizer and looked down. “i know… i just wanted people to stop thinking we’re wrong for each other.”

you frowned and pulled him into a hug. “well, we know we’re perfect for each other. i’ve known it from the moment you started talking about the metrics of trot. i remember just nodding along and thinking how beautiful you were.”

heeseung blushed at your words. you always knew how to make him feel better.

“you don’t have to dress up for anyone but yourself, okay?”

he shook his head with a small smile. “i like matching with you. it’s fun.”

“well, i guess we really gotta dress to impress then,” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

with that, heeseung was reassured. no more pressure. he could just dress however he wanted (which was however you were dressing). but, his glow up didn’t stop there. no, he thought about a haircut. he wanted something that would shut your friends up forever. so, after scrolling forever on tiktok, he found that he liked a mullet with some face-framing pieces. he went and got it done at sunghoon’s trusted barbershop and came out a new man. he immediately sent you a picture, to which you responded, “don’t go anywhere. no errands. no grabbing food. come home. now.”

safe to say, you loved his new haircut. he loved his new haircut. he loved it even more when his friends and your friends couldn’t manage words. good. stay that way.

loser!heeseung was still a loser but, at least, he was in a hot man’s body with his very very attractive girlfriend. he still played league. he still larped. he still took the renaissance fair very seriously. he still loved you more than anything in the world. he was still your loser.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[mysunshinetemptress]

Insight 4

Smarter universe

A/n: I feel like this one I might edit a bit more so a rerelease might cone idk I don’t really like my writing in this. it’s 1am and I wanted to give you guys another insight as promised. Also thank you to @womenwoso for helping with the logistics of this insight.

Leah hasn’t known what it’s like to not wake up and feel nauseous for the past few days, not since you left, but today it’s worse, today she goes to training and although she hopes you’ll be there in the back of her mind she knows you won’t.

Leah’s slow to get ready, slow to leave and slow to arrive to Sobha Reality training ground, she’s late and her teammates don’t understand why. Leah’s never late, you’re never late.

Leah checks in and trudges her way to the changing room where the rest of the arsenal girls are, slowly Leah pushes the door and walks making a b line for her locker before throwing her bag down and quietly getting ready.

Leah doesn’t miss the way the girls look for you coming in behind her like you usually do, and she definitely doesn’t miss the questioning glances between Steph and Alessia.

“Le where’s Y/n.” Leah shrugs continuing to get ready, her eyes glued to the floor. Steph steps forward “hey mate, where’s Y/n? She didn’t answer the phone to Less or I this morning.” Leah mumbles into her chest “I don’t know.” This only causes more confusion between the pair as Leah continues to put on her training gear.

“What do you mean you don’t know Leah you live together, you’re married to her for godsake” Leah feels her stomach flip “she’s gone-she left.” Alessia steps forward her own stomach dropping, gone, left. Where, why and why didn’t you text them or call it doesn’t make sense. “ She would have said something, why did she leave arsenal.” Leah shakes her head as she feels her emotions start to rise again “not Arsenal, not yet anyway.” Leah pauses tying her shoe “she left me.”

Leah hates that for a slight moment you’re the bad guy and that her friends support her, but it’s all a lie. Steph puts her hand on Leah’s shoulder comforting her “what happened.” Leah shakes her head the tears forming in her eyes as the feeling of getting sick intensifies “I cheated.” She lets out quietly so quietly that Steph is the only one to hear.

Alessia looks confused “what.” As Steph recoils her hand as though she’s just been burned “you did what.” Leah shakes her head “please Steph.” Steph doesn’t take pity on her instead she shouts “you cheated on your wife, on Y/n.”

The rest of the girls all seem to freeze as they turn to look at their Vice captain “you better be taken the piss.” Katie shouts from across the room.” But Leah’s silence is deafening “Leah.” Kim tries but the defender stays silent.

“She won’t answer our texts, our calls, how-is she safe.” Leah doesn’t answer she can’t answer she doesn’t know where you are, she doesn’t know you’re wrapped up in her bed in her childhood home holding on to her jumper as you sob.

“I don’t know….we…she talked and then she left.” Leah lets out, “who was it Leah.” Leah’s head turns to Lia and the knot in her stomach tightens “I-Lia.” Lia already knows, she wish she didn’t but she does “Leah.” Leah shakes her head “I didn’t-please- it-I don’t know it just-we just…please.” Lia feels sick and the room spins slightly at the thought that she had been introduced to HER months ago when Leah and her met up for coffee and SHE came bouncing over.

Steph has her phone out as she tries you again and again Alessia’s frozen “but what about everything-you guys were supposed to be having a family.” They don’t know Leah thinks of course they don’t know she didn’t know “we are.” The room seems to drop like a led balloon.

Leah’s up against a wall next Katie holding her shirt in her fists “please tell me your wife…who wants nothing more than a family with you…who we have all seen cry day in and day out over not being able to have a baby with you isn’t pregnant because if she is so help me god Leah.”

Again Leah’s silence is all it takes to confirm the team’s worst fears. “I don’t know who else to call.” Steph lets out painfully “everyone else is in this room” Leah gulps, your gone, you’re not answering your phone and Steph right everyone you love…you think of as your friends, family are in this room and once again the knot gets bigger.

Katie drops Leah back to her feet “Kim.” Kim looks at the Irish girl “you’re suspended”. Kim turns to Leah as the vice captain tries to protest “I don’t want to see you near this place until I say otherwise.” Leah nods packing up and heading out the door.

“Leah.”

Lia chases after her stopping just at the car park “please tell me that it’s not HER.” Leah shakes her head “I…” Leah’s interrupted by a car honking HER car as SHE pulls up beside the duo “Hey baby ready.” Leah turns and looks to Lia “I-i can explain.” Lia shakes her head “don’t bother, you’ve made your bed and clearly you still enjoy sleeping in it.”

[4chensungs]

don’t kiss and tell

brothers best friend!jisung x fem. reader

after the incident of your brother finding out you hooked up with one of his friends, you promised to yourself to never look out for him anymore. but who says he’ll give up on you that easily?

wc. 2.8k

warnings. smut (mdni), jisung is down bad, body worship like crazy in here, tit sucking, fingering, ass slapping, unprotected sex

part 1 for context here <3

IT HAS BEEN one whole month since you last talked to jisung. one month since you saw him probably for the last time in a hot minute.

the last few weeks have been extremely unusual; you keep questioning yourself how was he doing, if he's even ever going to appear at your house again to hang out with you brother, like he always did. he's probably not.

and fuck jaemin, fuck him for screwing your bond with him. it's useless, pure jealousy and he's so stupid!, stupid for being this mad with one if his best friends of years, simply because he thinks you're still a child.

on the other hand, jisung is being not so subtle in the way he still wants you. he keeps liking the pics you post on your instagram stories, sometimes even replying to them. and it's the sad fact you're not giving him a single reply.

his mind wanders to the thought of you being already completely over him, wanting to distance yourself fully right now, thanks to your brother.

but your heart knows that's not what you want, and it keeps giving you a warning that the next time that you see him, these feelings will come back stronger than ever.

you miss him. so bad, thinking about him makes you sick.

you're laying in bed, scrolling quietly through your phone when the damn notification appears. why does he keep trying? you sigh out loud.

the__and.y liked your stories.

you ran your hands through your hair, turning off your phone to stare at the ceiling to collect your breath. you can't, your brother is still furious with both of you.

jisung ♡: why do u keep ignoring me in every existing social media

is he really going to do this? at this late at night?

jisung ♡: i miss you

you kept reading his messages and not replying. you didn't contact him for a month.

maybe, just maybe, things may have gotten lighter with jaemin. perhaps he's not really remembering this whole thing, yeah?

you: i'm sorry jisung

you: idk if this is right i really don't know

you: im confused

you turn off your phone again while waiting for his reply. let's give it a try.

jisung ♡: why wouldn't it be right

jisung ♡: jaemin can't control your life, you can do whatever you want

hm.

you: i felt bad that day and he's still so mad with you

you: idc if he's mad with me, he's my brother at the end of the day

you: i worry about you and how hes fucked up your friendship

jisung ♡: baby you know what's fucked up

jisung ♡: you trying to convince yourself that you don't want this because of him

jisung ♡: say to my face that you don't want it

you want this so fucking bad. to be in his arms again, and the thrill of being with him behind closed doors. god, that's all you want in every way.

you: ji

you: i want to see you

jisung ♡: that's right

jisung ♡: i've waited for this princess

jisung ♡: waited so long

you: i need you

you: i don't care anymore

you really don't give a fuck - your brother can hold his protectiveness instinct for himself, he actually can. you can't control what your heart aims for.

and it screams for park jisung.

"you can't ignore him forever, you know that?"

"who says I'm ignoring him? I texted him yesterday saying he should come this weekend." jaemin huffed, acting oblivious to the fact that the only reason why he invited jisung over was because of the boys' annual end of year party.

chenle deadpans at him with his stare, letting out a chuckle, "if you didn't invite him I would've done it myself." he paused, turning his head to look at the man, "that would be bullshit."

bullshit. jaemin swore he almost threw chenle out of the car in the harshest way possible - clicking his tongue in pure annoyance, "yeah, it was just fine when he fucked my sister behind my back."

"i'm pretty sure they did not fuck."

if you didn't then why were you both half naked. in his car. at your backyard?

"i'm telling you, I saw it. she was literally on top of him and she was fucking moaning his name, chenle. that's fucking wrong." your brother spat while still not looking at his friend - eyes focused on the road.

chenle keeps going, "cut this off, jaem. you can't see her as a baby anymore. let her live."

jisung is indeed coming to your house again - sooner than you thought. but it did take some days for you to find out, tho. you brother wasn't the one who told you.

in the same day, the last messages jisung sent you before you went to sleep.

jisung ♡: dress up prettily for me tomorrow

jisung ♡: will you?

you: what??

you: you're coming???

jisung ♡: jaemin told me to go and yeah i didn't expect it as well

jisung ♡: dreaming of you again

jisung ♡: kissing your sweet lips holding you so close to me

jisung ♡: it'll be all mine princess

you: go to sleep ji

you: silly

jisung ♡: i'll show you what's silly tomorrow

—

the sound of the boys laughing and loud pitching talking in the living room did quite mess with your head, anticipating the moment when he comes. it's crazy how you got so dolled up for him only, he's the reason why you're even going out of your room this night.

if it wasn't for jisung, you'd probably just greet the guys and come back to your own quiet place, drowning in your thoughts, alone. just like you always used to do before he appeared in your life.

a knock was heard on your door just right after you finished your makeup. unexpectedly, you meet a very tipsy jaemin.

"what the fuck is this outfit?" he spats, crossing his arms in front of his chest - his body unbalanced. for a split second, you closed your eyes and thanked all the existing Gods under your breath. he's drunk.

you smiled, "felt pretty today. you smell like beer, don't talk to me."

"hey, hey, hey." he grabbed your arm before you could close the door and kick him out, "come say hello to my friends. don't be rude."

you fixed your hair and outfit and went to the living room, being find with chenle, jeno and donghyuck's figures sat around the big table, nestled with all the different kinds of drinks and alcohol.

your breath hitched when jisung was nowhere to be found.

after greeting the guys, you decided to wait in your room - not sure on how, or when will jisung get there and you'll finally get to release all of your wants. show him how much you miss him and vice versa.

not much time had passed before another knock was heard on your door. you were sprawled on bed, dim lighting decorating the ambient.

"come in."

you said that because you thought it was your brother. jisung carefully opened the door, eyes peeking first to check on you.

that scene truly felt like a movie. you slowly got up, a smile starting to pop up in your lips as you walked to him.

your voice trembling, "hi, ji."

you opened the door fully for him to enter your space, he wasted no time to step in and pull you into a hug.

a mess was happening in your head, so ridiculously dizzy from him - the masculine smell of his cologne filling your nostrils, his hands holding your body flush to him while yours gripped his black t shirt, so simple and casual but yet made him look so attractive.

or maybe that’s just because you miss him a lot.

jisung leaned away from your embrace, gently taking your hair out of your face while holding eye contact - hands flew to your hips.

"you look gorgeous. more than ever."

your arms secured their hold around his neck, feeling your cheeks burning red from his words, "just for you." you announced.

he nodded, "all for me."

you both smiled like two idiots in love as he leaned down to kiss you, mouths melting so sweet at first - tongues brushing here and there, hums being heard throughout the kiss, "so pretty in this dress." he mumbles in between.

his back hits the door as he closes it, left hand leaving your hips for a mere second just to lock it.  making absolute sure that no one will be able to interrupt.

jisung grabs a hold of your thighs to help you walk further into your room, so familiar to him.

all the times you've sneaked out, when jisung slept by and left jaemin's room in the middle of the night when he was in a deep sleep. all behind his back with so much carefulness.

when he lays you down he's quick to trail his wet kisses down to your neck, firm hands caressing your whole body, going up and down in motions.

you arch into him, playing with his black hair strands as his face rests on your chest, meanwhile his lips keeps smooching your hot skin.

you sigh in contentment, knees pressing together - trying to give him a sign that you're needy, so painfully needy for him.

"jisung i want- mhhm" your words get cut off by your own whine when his hand grabs the top of your dress to pull it down, hanging it just below your bra.

"don't want to take your dress off.. youre looking too beautiful like this." his deep voice quietly said.

you smile at his sweet comment, holding back all your whines combined with the feeling of his fingers messing with the lace of your white bra, throwing your head back with no shame when he pulls the fabric down to expose your breasts, still not taking it off your body.

"so pretty, princess. i could admire you all day."

cool air is fast to hit but it's soon replaced by jisung's hot mouth, circling your breast with his tongue, hand massaging the other while his mouth does wonders on your soft flesh.

when he reaches for your nipple you whine even louder, his saliva pooling and soaking your whole breast when he sucks it into his warm hot mouth, humming nonstop.

"you're crazy ji-jisung."

"should i stop?" he teases, leaning his mouth away from your nipple and replacing it with his finger, rubbing it.

"no for fucks sake.. but I'm trying so hard to keep quiet." your voice trembled slightly.

jisung looks at you then laughs, “they’re so wasted right now, no one’s conscious in that room, love.”

you pout at him, he softly traces your bottom lip with his thumb before kissing you again, “I promise you, it’s okay. but I need you to tell me it’s okay with you.”

his soft and caring voice did turn you on even more, it shouldn’t, but it made you wetter. eyes holding so much love and appreciation looking at yours - “I want this. I want you, ji.”

jisung smiles one more time, giving you a nod and resumed his work, mumbling a deep “fuck” under his breath when he tested the waters, hand went under your dress to feel your core.

he pulled the ends of your dress up to your stomach, your thighs ridiculously pressed together. you should be ashamed of how wet you were, but you’re not, not even a single bit.

he gives your thighs a caress, “let me spread them, hm?”

your breath hitches when he brings your knees to your chest, spreading you all open and full for him. jisung mentally coos at the scene in front of him.

just like your bra, white lace panties with a wet dark patch decorated in the middle, like a gift for him. it drove him crazy.

“did you miss me that much, princess?” you can only moan as response when he touches the wet patch with his finger before pulling the lace to the side, holding it in place with one finger, while his middle finger travels up and down your cunt.

wet, so fucking wet, “fuck. love, i might cum just by looking at this.” he cursed and cursed again, eyes wide open and looking straight at your puffy displayed cunt, so wet just for him. he knew that and so did you.

“oh fuck baby i can’t-“ jisung’s fingers spread you open to admire you better - in love, genuinely in love with how your pretty pussy shines for him, glistening and begging to suck him in.

he leans down fast enough to give your clit a quick kiss, “can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is.” still caressing your core.

you moan his name desperately at his nasty but sweet comment, tons of whines and “jisung” ‘s leaving your mouth.

“ji please. want your fingers.” you manage to say.

“of course, gotta prep my beautiful girl.” he smiles, an expert finger circling your clit before diving down into your entrance. covered with slick, your cunt invites him just as soon.

experienced fingers pumping in and out continuously, you whine with your eyes closed at the sound of wetness.

jisung’s in complete awe, stoping his staring at your hole to kiss your face, first at the corner of your mouth, then at your lips, shutting your whines off.

“you’re perfect.” he leans away to say.

nothing’s more perfect in this world than the sensation of his long and thick fingers inside you, scissoring you and reaching the deepest and most sensitive spots ever. you’ll say that to him later.

you try to smile but you soon harshly bite your lip when he curled his two fingers inside, you yelped, “jisung! oh my god-“

he kisses you again, and again, until he’s satisfied and thinks you’re ready to take him. jisung’s fingers leave you empty, and you let out a cry - his eyes make their way to between your legs to see how you’re pulsating.

“never seen my princess this wet..” deep cocky voice says.

you reach out to take off your dress, “i’ve missed you.”

when your dress was discarded to the floor, he was quick to unbutton his jeans as they went to the same destination of your clothes.

you could see his erection through his boxers, and as much as you want to such him off right now, you’re needing him inside. now.

your panties were about to be discarded before jisung grabbed your hand and shook his head, “want them on, baby. s’ pretty. keep the bra too.”

knowing how he likes it with you, you turned around and pinned your front to the bed, arching your back and your ass in the air.

“fuck, just like that.” he pumps his cock at first, cooing you while you wait for him.

jisung’s hands flew to your back to arch it even more, then to hold your hips. he rubs the head of his dick on your entrance, how your pussy almost sucks him in just from the rubbing.

when he enters you, you let out a little too loud moan. hands clutching the sheets and tears filling your eyes.

he’s completely focused on how you keep clenching around him - the amusing view of your cunt sucking him all the way in, then out again.

your hips were pressed to his shaft, feeling him so fucking deep into your womb.

jisung coos again, “you don’t know how I’ve been dying for this.” he slaps your ass.

“jisung! jisung fuck, jisung.” you whine like a baby, lost in the pleasure. ass stinging from his big hand slap and cunt begging to be filled until you get sore.

“my love.” another slap, “fucking made just for me.”

his cock is so big and it leaves you like a babbling mess, so big that it almost hurts from how good it is, hits you in all places.

you both were getting closer, his thrusts started to get sloppier and messier, slower as he pulled away to release at your back.

your own release dripped down your pussy and thighs, while his hot cum painted your back down to your ass cheeks. what a scene.

“want them all to see this mess.. jaemin needs to see how you’re good to me.“ he admires the sight of your cunt clenching and unclenching around absolutely nothing but the air, “can’t believe you’re mine and no one can ever change that.”

you tiredly laid back on your back again, trying to fix your hair. jisung’s sweaty body joined you after tossing the dirty sheets aside, he breathes heavy, but still with that cute smile on his lips.

“do you think they heard something?.” you look up at him, voice low.

jisung thinks for a second, furrowing his brows, “i honestly don’t think so, baby. but you need to change these sheets..”

“of course i will, ji.” you laughed fondly. there’s still some questions hanging in the air, with what face will he come back to the boys?

“and if they ask you where were you this whole time and what were you doing…?”

“then i’ll just say that i was fucking the prettiest girl in the family and i don’t regret it.”

—

© 4chensungs

[mmso-notlikethat]

fic prompt! Since I just landed on a flight home, how about Buck and Tommy fly somewhere and this is the time that Buck gets to really see Tommy being a nerd about flying, even if he's not flying the plane himself. If it sparks joy. 😊

Sarah i know i'm so late, but I've been thinking about this since you sent it.. finally, an idea came by lol (hope you like it 🥰)

Buck was mid-ramble about the aerodynamics of commercial planes—something he'd picked up during a late-night internet deep dive before their trip—when he paused, noticing Tommy sitting rigidly beside him.

Tommy’s hand gripped the armrest tightly, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm as though he couldn’t quite keep them still. His jaw was set, lips pressed into a thin line, and his gaze flickered back and forth between the window and the seat in front of him.

“You okay?” Buck asked, tilting his head toward him.

“Yeah, fine,” Tommy replied quickly, his voice clipped. His eyes didn’t meet Buck’s, and his grip on the armrest tightened slightly as the plane jolted, turning onto the main runway.

Buck didn’t press him. Instead, he shifted in his seat, leaning just a little closer.

As the plane accelerated for takeoff, Tommy exhaled sharply, his foot bouncing lightly against the floor. His fingers tapped the armrest before curling tightly, knuckles pale. His breathing was shallow—measured, as if keeping himself in check. Buck noticed without a word, his gaze flicking briefly to Tommy’s hand before sliding his own over it. His thumb brushed lightly against Tommy’s wrist, a quiet reassurance.

Tommy didn’t react at first, but then Buck shifted his hand, gently coaxing Tommy’s fingers to relax. Tommy hesitated, glancing at Buck out of the corner of his eye, but the tension in his grip eased. Slowly, almost shyly, his fingers relaxing enough for Buck to intertwine them with his own.

Buck didn’t say anything, didn’t even glance at him, just kept talking about the mechanics of lift-off as though nothing was out of the ordinary. His voice was steady and warm, grounding in a way that pulled Tommy’s focus from the roaring engines and the tilt of the plane as it left the ground.

Tommy’s grip tightened briefly around Buck’s hand, but this time it wasn’t out of nervousness—it was something quieter, steadier. Buck’s faint smile grew as he felt the shift, his thumb brushing lightly along the side of Tommy’s hand.

By the time the plane leveled out, Tommy had regained his composure. His usual confidence returned, and Buck could see it in the way he subtly shifted in his seat, reclaiming his space.

And their fingers stayed intertwined, neither of them letting go.

“Sorry about that,” Tommy muttered, finally looking at Buck. “Guess I do not like flying unless I’m the one in control.”

Buck shrugged, giving him an easy grin. “Makes sense. You’re used to being the guy behind the stick. Kind of weird to trust someone else to do the job.”

Tommy let out a soft laugh, nodding. “Exactly.”

Buck leaned closer, his eyes lighting up. “But you’ve got to admit, it’s kind of amazing to just sit back and think about how all this works. I mean, did you know that commercial planes—”

“—can fly even if one engine goes out?” Tommy interrupted; his tone slightly smug. He gave Buck a sidelong glance, his lips twitching into a grin. “Come on, Evan. I’ve been flying helicopters long enough to know a thing or two about rotors and wings—definitely more than you.”

Buck feigned offense, his hand still resting lightly in Tommy’s. “First of all, rude. Second of all, helicopters are completely different from planes. And third, this is my thing. You don’t get to outdo me in rambling about cool stuff.”

Tommy chuckled, leaning his head back against the seat. “Fine. You get this one. But only because I already know all the facts.”

“Oh, do you?” Buck shot back, leaning forward in challenge.

Tommy’s face lit up in a way Buck rarely saw. “Okay, look, I’ll give you this,” Tommy began, his tone shifting into the cadence of someone who truly loved what they were talking about. “Planes are efficient and all, but helicopters? They’re the real magic. Think about it—rotor blades generate lift, but they’re also responsible for propulsion. You’re balancing pitch, yaw, and roll all at the same time. It’s like juggling while standing on a tightrope during a windstorm.”

Tommy kept going, now diving into the mechanics of different flight systems and the nuances between military and civilian helicopters. “And then there’s autorotation recovery—people think it’s impossible, but if you’ve got the skill and focus—”

He suddenly trailed off, catching Buck’s gaze. Buck was staring at him, eyes twinkling and a soft smile curling his lips.

Tommy froze, blinking. “What?”

“What what?” Buck asked, his smile widening innocently.

Tommy’s cheeks turned pink. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Buck chuckled. “Nothing, I’m just listening.”

“Oh…” Tommy hesitated, his blush deepening. “Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

“Sorry? No, I like it. Come on, tell me more!” Buck urged, grinning. “But also, don’t be so biased about helicopters. I also need to know more about planes in general!”

Tommy’s lips twitched into a bashful smile before he nodded, launching back into his explanation with renewed enthusiasm. He gestured with his hands as he spoke, describing the differences in flight dynamics between fixed-wing and rotary-wing aircraft, his voice growing more animated with each passing second.

Buck watched him, mesmerized by the way Tommy’s eyes lit up, the way his hands moved as though he could hardly contain his excitement. Finally, Buck raised a hand, halting Tommy mid-sentence.

“Wait a minute,” Buck said, leaning in. Before Tommy could ask why, Buck kissed him—a brief, warm press of lips that left Tommy blinking in surprise.

Buck pulled back just enough to grin at him. “I might be starting to understand why you never stop me when I ramble.”

Tommy’s smile grew, wide and unrestrained, and before Buck could say another word, Tommy leaned in and kissed him again—a quick, joyful press of lips that made Buck’s heart flip.

When Tommy pulled back, his voice was soft and full of warmth. “I love you.”

Buck blinked, his grin spreading even wider. And he said in a mock-surprise “You do?”

Tommy rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward despite himself.

“Just making sure,” Buck teased, his tone light, as if he wasn’t already beaming. “Because I love you too.”

Tommy let out a laugh and without thinking, he brought their intertwined hands up, pressing a quick kiss to the back of Buck’s hand. The small gesture made Buck’s heart skip, but before he could say anything, Tommy leaned back, his grin turning playful. “Okay, so… does this mean I get to win the argument about helicopters being better?”

“Absolutely not,” Buck said, laughing as he bumped his shoulder against Tommy’s. “But I’ll let you try and convince me.”

He glanced at Buck, hesitant for a beat, then took a breath and continued where he left off. “Okay, fine. But since you’re so determined to make this a debate, let me explain why helicopters still have the edge—”

Buck interrupted with a mock groan, throwing his head back. “Oh, here we go again.”

Tommy just laughed, a bright, happy sound that filled the small space between them, and Buck couldn’t help but think that this—this—was his favorite sound in the world.

[loverboysturn]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ popular!chris and the football team take a visit to the diner when cinderella!reader is on shift !

find all popular!chris and cinderella!reader writings here and everything else here!

note: you might want to read this first before reading the below so some things make more sense :) my au’s are always open for this au! come yap or ask me questions about them!

you normally hated working the late shift.

but for a friday night, it was quiet. the diner was empty, a few regulars sat in their usual seats and some families scattered about but all in all, your shift had been peaceful so far. the constant hum of the kitchen, the clatter of pots and pans, and the sizzling sounds of the chefs at work was comforting to you, you wipe down the counter in front of you for the third time since you started work tonight, pretending to not notice how time was dragging on. it was boring but you were grateful for the calmness of it all, especially after the last week.

the world outside the diner seemed to be moving slowly too, the streets outside empty apart from the occasional cars driving by, it was one of those rare nights where it was quiet enough that you could find the time to think, your mind always going back to the same thing, same person.

but, the peace didn’t last long.

the door swings open, and the group swarm in, instantly filling the diner with their energy. their voices louder than usual, bouncing off the walls as they joked and laughed. the football team walking in first, followed not long after by a cluster of cheerleaders, all of them still hyped up from practice.

you barely have any time to adjust to the sudden change in the atmosphere before they were all over the place. completely taking over the booths at the back of the diner, making themselves known to everyone else already in here. their noise filling every corner of the diner, and the chatter between them growing with every passing second. the peace and quiet you had only just been enjoying was suddenly replaced with noise, and lots of it.

your colleague pops her head from behind the counter quietly calling your name. “honey, can you take the booths in the back for me? i’ll take the tables after, i just need to wrap up what i’m doing”

you didn’t need to look over to know to known which booths she was talking about.

you hesitate for a second, trying to scramble up an excuse as to why you can’t, feeling a familiar knot of dread tighten in your stomach.

“but, i—i” you stutter, brain working overdrive to find an excuse.

“please?” she asks again, giving you a small smile.

you sigh, accepting your fate. “yeah, of course.” you really, really didn’t want to serve them. the teasing, the jokes—it was always the same when they were around, and you weren’t in the mood for it all tonight, but you couldn’t say no to her.

taking a deep breath, you straightened out your apron and forced yourself to look unbothered by them all, the last thing you needed was for them to start making more of a scene, but you knew the moment you walked over, they’d find something to laugh at.

as you make your way to the table, your eyes immediately land on chris sturniolo, and for a second, your stomach flips. the memory of bumping into him in the hallway earlier this week flashes in your mind—your books flying out of your arms, the way your cheeks went a deep red after falling to the floor, rejecting his offer to help you up, you quickly look away, trying to shake the feeling of being in his line of vision for the first time since, even though he hadn’t so much as even looked at you once.

“here she is, diner girl” one of the football team says as he sees you, loud enough for them all to hear. you recognise him as the guy who was rude to you you the other day when you bumped into chris. “don’t forget your service with a smile today.”

you bite your lip, forcing a smile as you click your pen and pull out your notepad to take their order.

it was hard to not feel the weight of all their eyes on you, you had enough going on at the minute, you’d been juggling assignments at school, your stepmother signing you up for shift after shift, and on top of it all, there were the late night texts you shared with someone you still didn’t know the identity of but for you it was easier that way, completely anonymous. there were no expectations, no judgement. just words on a screen, but they were words that were starting to mean a lot to you.

“what can i get you guys today?” you ask, trying to keep your tone professional. you wasn’t in the mood for the teasing from them tonight, but you’d try to just ignore it.

“milkshakes” one of the cheerleaders looks up at you with a fake smile, “the usual, don’t fuck it up.”

as she finishes speaking, another cheerleader giggles at her friends’ rudeness, a sharp, laugh that rings in your ears after, you recognise her as the head cheerleader—always the loudest, the first to join in with the diner girl jokes. your eyes briefly look over to where she has her arm casually draped over chris’s, trying to gain his attention, but he wasn’t paying any interest in her, not even looking up from his phone, clearly more interested in what was on the screen than the girl bedside him.

they were the stereotypical on-and-off couple—chris, the school’s golden boy and captain of the football team and her, the head cheerleader and the girl all her friends wanted to be. everyone knew their drama, how they’d broken up and gotten back together more times than you could count on both hands. the last you’d heard, they’d broken up for good just before the summer break started but you’d never paid much attention to it, the gossip of the popular crowd had never really interested you—it was always the same boring stories.

“got it” you say, your voice flat as you force a smile. you turn on your heel, rolling your eyes when they could no longer see you, the feeling of frustration brewing in your chest at the way they treated anyone not in their group but you’d gotten good at pretending they didn’t bother you at work, even when they did. you knew they’d leave a terrible tip anyway, that’s if they even left one at all.

you make sure the milkshakes come out exactly as they ordered to prevent any more rude comments from them—a few vanilla, a few chocolate and some strawberry flavoured. you place them carefully on the table, trying your best to avoid eye contact with anyone but as you set the last one in front of chris, he looks up at you, eyes locking with yours.

“you know, diner girl” one of his teammates interrupts the eye contact, a smirk forming on his lips. “i think we shouldn’t have to pay for these tonight, they’re on the house, right? you know.. ‘cause of your little accident running into chris this week.”

the whole table erupts into laughter, a few other comments muttered and fake giggles, a cheerleader chimes in “yeah, maybe you should stay out the way next time and you’d earn your tips.”

you still don’t let your frustrations show, just nodding at them. “enjoy your drinks guys.” you sigh, quickly walking away before any more comments can be thrown your way.

an hour or so later, the group finish their drinks and you notice them all start to make their way to the exit, their noise and laughter still echoing all around the diner. you stand behind the counter, cleaning a coffee mug, hoping they’ll just hurry up and leave.

“thanks for the free milkshakes, diner girl” one of the football team shouts. “you’ll have to bump into our golden boy more often.”

you don’t respond, just waiting for them all to finally leave, bringing the diner back to the quiet you were enjoying earlier.

you turn to grab a rag from under the counter, already bracing yourself for their mess that you’ll now have to clean, but as you’re about to head over, you feel someone standing on the other side of the counter infront of you.

you glance up, half expecting it to be one of the football team or a cheerleader, waiting to throw one last comment at you before they leave for good, but when you look up and your eyes land on chris, you’re taken aback. he’s standing there, his posture is calm, but you can sense the tension in his shoulders and for a second, you freeze, waiting for him to make some kind of snide remark.

but he doesn’t.

“i just wanted to say” he begins, voice softer than you expected. “i’m sorry for how they all treated you tonight. i didn’t like that they spoke to you like that” he looks down, eyes on the counter infront of him. “the thing in the hallway the other day with me and you, that was completely my fault. i wasn’t looking where i was going.”

you blink in surprise, a look of confusion taking over your face. you wasn’t expecting this, you open your mouth to say something, but the words are stuck in your throat.

“i—“ you start, unsure of how to respond. “it’s fine, i—I’m kinda used to it now.”

he shakes his head, finally looking up at you now. “no,” his voice firm, “you shouldn’t have to be used to it, that’s not fair on you but i’m sorry if my stupid clumsiness made it all worse tonight.”

when you saw him stood there just now, you expected the same attitude you receive off his friends, the same dismissive tone in his voice but instead, he’s apologising for them and you can’t quite figure out why.

“honestly, chris” you say, forcing a smile. “it’s fine, you don’t have to apologise.”

his gaze lingers on you, then without warning, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled bill, sliding it over to you. “here,” he says, “for the milkshakes.”

“thank you,” you murmur, voice softer with him now, you take the money, fingers brushing against his making the awkward tension in the air between you become thick enough that you feel yourself becoming flustered.

chris gives you a half-smile, a rare one that feels a lot more genuine than the usual one you see him throw about at football games and in the hallways. “it’s nothing,” he says, his tone softening. “and, uh…you really know how to make a great strawberry milkshake, guess i owe you one now for that too.”

you blink, completely caught off guard but before you can say anything else, chris turns and heads for the door, slipping out with his friends, door swinging shut behind him. you watch him go, still feeling confused by him being nice to you but you can’t shake the feeling that maybe he is still like the rest of them, charming when he wants something, but just as rude as his friends when it doesn’t matter to him.

you push your thoughts aside, just wanting to forget about the whole scene and pretend your shift tonight didn’t happen, you focus on the task waiting for you, heading over to the now messy booth where they’d been sitting that needed cleaning.

as you wipe the table, your mind drifts to your mystery guy and you can’t help but wonder what he’s doing right now. is he thinking about you too? you glance at the clock, a sense of relief running through you when you see there’s only an hour left of your shift.

sixty more minutes, and you’ll be able to talk to him again, the only thing that had been on your mind all night, the only thing that makes the chaos of your life all fade into the background.

little did you know, the guy who was keeping you up at night and consuming your thoughts, was standing just a few feet from you earlier, complimenting you on your strawberry milkshakes and you had no idea.

[junplusone]

i'll always say it's you ; yoon jeonghan

summary: you always used to think that even the end of the world couldn’t keep you and yoon jeonghan apart; you’d find your way back to each other somehow. ten years later, you start to wonder if that’s such a good thing after all.

contains: childhood best friends to ??? to ???, swearing, drinking (+ underage), talk of joshua and cheol's arm muscles, mention of drugs in a joke like once i think, caffeine addiction, peak delusion, jeonghan cheating in games as always, hella yearning

word count: 12.98k

a/n: this is lowkey a mess and probably kind of inaccurate loll but i hope u enjoy! feedback always appreciated xx

the me of today hopes for the you of tomorrow

“What about you, Y/N? Have you ever been in love?”

Hearing your own name slowly zones you back into the conversation at the table. You pause at the question, a drop of soju splashing out of the glass in your hand.

“What?”

“Come on, it’s just a silly question,” the young intern says, rolling his eyes. “You’re no fun, Y/N. We’re off work right now! It’s fine,” he drawls, swaying a little in his chair.

You can’t really remember his name right now, downing the glass in one go, but his bold innocence bothers you. Maybe his demeanor, full of life and promise, is what gets on your nerves. 

Were you like that when you were fresh out of college, too? It’s so unthinkable to you now, at twenty-nine. It feels like ages in the past.

“So? Are you —”

“I hardly think this is an appropriate conversation,” you say quietly, zipping your bag shut. “I think I’m going to head out, anyways. It’s quite late already.”

“But —”

“Chan, just stop asking questions and drink this, okay?” His friends try and calm him down with a glass of water. Amidst the chatter, you decide to slip away, silently pushing in your chair and leaving the bustling restaurant. 

Dinners like this always end up making you feel worse, anyways, like an outlier at a table of people with fervent hopes and dreams of their own. 

You make it two blocks until your phone begins to buzz in your pocket, and you fumble to answer it, knowing there’s only one person who would call you at nine o’clock on a Friday night.

“Hello?”

“Oh, you answered,” Yeonju says, evidently surprised. “I thought you’d still be at work.”

“I’m on my way home now,” you tell her. “Why, did something happen?”

“Kind of,” you hear rustling on her end of the line. “Jeonghan called.”

“Huh?” 

You had stopped abruptly at Yeonju’s words— foolishly in the middle of the road, and you rush to the sidewalk, still reeling. It’s been so long since you’ve even heard his name that it sends your mind into a tailspin when she says it again.

“I thought you knew,” she says, “He said he tried calling you first, but you wouldn’t pick up.”

“I don’t answer calls from numbers I don’t have saved,” you remind her. You haven’t had Jeonghan’s number saved on your phone in a long time. There was no need to keep it if you never used it anymore.

“I think you should talk to him.”

“Yeonju,” you shake your head. “Why would I? There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There is, and you know it, too,” she doubles down. “You won’t say it, but I know you agree with me.”

She’s right, as much as you want to pretend otherwise. When has Choi Yeonju ever been wrong about you? Sometimes it scares you how good she is at reading your mind, but as always, she delivers reality checks right when she feels like you need them.

“Maybe,” you admit begrudgingly. “But things are just easier without him.”

“Yeah, well, nothing is ever easy,” she points out, “but take your own time, no rush. And take care of yourself, Y/N.”

“I will,” you say with a faint smile.

“OK, perfect. Call if you need anything else, yeah? I gotta go now.”

“Okay, Yeonju, take care.”

“Bye!”

She hangs up just as you unlock your front door, shutting it behind you and kicking off your shoes. The peace and quiet of your apartment welcomes you, and you sigh in relief as you sink into your couch.

Pulling out your phone again, you scroll through your call log. There are a few unsaved numbers, likely just spam calls, but when you see the same number four times in a row, there’s no doubt about who it might have been. Your finger hovers over the screen; should you? Shouldn’t you?

No, it’s easier to just stay angry. It’s easier to pretend his name means nothing to you anymore. 

But even as you toss your phone to the side, Chan’s question still haunts you, like it’s a reminder that maybe you need to retrace your steps and do something different this time. 

God, you had finally been able to go a few days without thinking about him, but today just took you right back to square one.

“Have you ever been in love?”

When you close your eyes, all you see is him.

first time feeling my heart race, never thought it'd beat so fast

TEN YEARS AGO

“Yoon Jeonghan, delete that right now or I’m going to kill you.”

Jeonghan shakes his head vehemently, still cackling at the picture of you on his phone. This is nothing new to you; over the years you’ve gotten used to him finding the absolute worst angles of you whenever you fall asleep in class, or on the bus, and it never fails to get you fuming. 

In fact, if Jeonghan has one talent, it’s probably pissing you off.

“Not my fault you dozed off like that during lecture! Even Yeonju would have bullied you if she was there,” he teases. “I’ve been collecting bad Y/N photos since we were sixteen and in high school, why would I stop now?”

“You’re evil.”

“Thanks, I know.”

“Dinner’s on you, by the way.”

“What?!”

“Do you want to keep that horrendous picture or not?”

“Okay, fine,” he concedes immediately, slipping his phone into his pocket. “But we’re going back to my dorm first because I left my wallet on my desk.”

"Why would you not have that with you? Dumbass," you scold. 

To anyone else, you might sound angry, but somewhere in the unspoken words, you and Jeonghan have already reconciled. 

The weather is chilly and perfectly November-esque, and if not for the thick scarf around your neck you’d be shivering by now. Having Jeonghan by your side adds to the warmth spreading throughout your body, a little piece of happiness found in his company. 

You’ve never needed to explain yourself to him. Somehow, whatever you’re feeling, whatever’s going on, he just knows, and it’s perfect. You couldn’t ask for anything more.

Not much to your surprise, Jeonghan’s roommate is there when the two of you walk in, blankets piled over him as he hunches over his laptop. 

“Hey, Josh,” you greet him. “Everything okay?”

“No,” he frowns, rubbing his eyes, “I may have procrastinated a little too hard on this paper and now it’s due in a couple of hours and I’m totally fucked.”

“This is why I told you to drop that philosophy class at the beginning of the semester,” Jeonghan says, pocketing his wallet. “You don’t even need to take it.”

“Just trying to knock off my humanities electives, but honestly, this one kind of backfired on me,” Joshua admits, defeated. “Where are you guys headed?”

Jeonghan points at you accusingly. “This one tricked me into buying her dinner earlier.”

“I did not!” you gasp. “You walked into that one, stop blaming me for the consequences of your actions! Also, I want ramen, which means we’re going off campus, so you’re driving.”

He narrows his eyes at you as he reaches for his car keys. “You are so evil.”

"Takes one to know one, Hannie."

What throws you off is the way Joshua’s eyes flit between the both of you as you bicker, the way he tells you to have fun in that singsong voice of his as you step back out into the cold, like he knows something you don’t. 

You still remember the day you first met him, when Jeonghan left to go grab something after introducing the two of you, and the question that immediately followed.

“Are you guys together or something?”

And of course, Joshua meant no harm — nobody ever does, when they ask something like that. You and Jeonghan have been fielding questions like that since the start of your friendship. Everyone’s wanted to know exactly what it is that you are to each other, and the answer has always come without missing a beat.

Friends, you’ve always said. 

Friends in the way that you can’t go anywhere alone in your hometown without being asked where the other one is, the way that your parents always set out an extra plate and ask if he’s joining for dinner as usual.

The right word for it would be ‘inseparable’. Sometimes, though, you wonder if that’s all that it is. 

Like now, as you notice the cold has Jeonghan trembling next to you. His teeth are chattering, long lashes framing his eyes that are now narrowed in displeasure. 

When you unravel your scarf from around your neck and reach to drape it around his, they go wide in surprise. 

“What are you doing?”

“You never wear enough layers, idiot.” You tuck the ends into his jacket and the way he’s staring at you steals the breath out of your lungs. 

You can’t run from the fact; your best friend is undeniably attractive. It’s a simple truth, down to his soft but sharp features, the slope of his cheeks, and the hair that frames his face so perfectly. It’s dark out, but Jeonghan’s eyes are lit up like stars. You don’t even realize it until you start to hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“Thanks,” he says with a faint smile. “What would I do without you?”

“Freeze, probably,” you reply flippantly, but you look away, unable to take the intensity of his gaze on you.

Just think about the way he looks at you, Y/N.

Was Yeonju right? You have no way of knowing, and you don’t want to tip the scales by bringing any of it up now.

“Alright, let’s go,” you say instead, tugging him along to the parking lot. “It’s late, I’m hungry, and you promised.”

“Why do you always seem so excited to drain my bank account?”

“It’s my favorite hobby,” you quip. “Shall we go?”

“We shall, m’lady,” he says as you get to his car, pulling open the door for you with a wink. Your cheeks burn as you get in, his defined features etched into your brain.

Yes, he’s your dearest, oldest friend, but Yoon Jeonghan has a certain way of making your head spin that throws that very title into question.

when half of me is gone, how can i live as one?

PRESENT DAY

It’s been exactly three days since Jeonghan called you, and you haven’t heard from him since then. You don’t know what you were expecting. Another call? A text? 

No, it would be quite stupid to hope for such things after everything that’s happened.

It’s a quiet Monday night, and your brain decides to take an involuntary trip down memory lane. Ten years ago today, you’d probably be doing homework frantically, most definitely an assignment you’d put off until the night of. Ten years ago today, Jeonghan would be by your side. 

Oh, how some things change over time. 

After another hour of mindless TV and doing whatnot on your phone, your conscience finally wins the moral battle against your pride, and you scroll down through your call log again. Taking a deep breath, you decide to call him back before your brain can convince you otherwise.

All the words evaporate out of your mouth when he picks up on the first ring. 

“Y/N?”

God, it’s been so long since you’ve heard his voice. Just the sound of your name from him is enough to make you tear up.

“... Jeonghan?”

Silence. After a few seconds your heart sinks, thinking maybe he’s hung up on you and gone radio silent yet again. 

Then you hear it, just barely whispered into the phone: “I’ve missed you.”

Those words tug at your heart so badly you press your eyes closed to prevent your tears from welling up. “Jeonghan, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“I haven’t heard from you in over a year,” you cut him off. “A year, Jeonghan. Do you really think you can just ‘I miss you’ your way back into my life whenever you want?” 

“Don’t say that,” he implores. “You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true. I mean it.”

“I’ve heard the exact same line from you so many times,” you tell him, the rest of your words dying in your throat. 

You have many more things to say to him, so many unspoken feelings, but now doesn’t feel like the time. Instead, you swallow your anger like you’ve done every time he finds his way back into your life.

“How… how have you been?”

“I’m okay. I wrote a new song,” he says lightly. “Shows have been pretty alright, things are looking up… just the usual.”

“Oh, I see.”

“What about you?”

“I’m okay, too.” A blatant lie. “Jeonghan… why’d you call me on Friday?”

“Oh,” he starts, like he’s surprised you even asked. “Um, I’m actually in town for a bit, so… I was just wondering if you wanted to meet and catch up again. Y’know, like old times.”

It’s the flippant edge in his voice that stings more than anything else, as if he doesn’t care that your friendship hasn’t been the same for years. Do you mean that little to him now?

But, like always, you have a hard time saying no to Yoon Jeonghan.

“Okay,” you agree. “Just tell me where, I guess. And when.”

“Okay.”

It’s not for a few seconds that you realize your cheeks are wet. Jeonghan feels so far away now, the distance hurts like a piercing pain and you have to slap a hand over your mouth so he doesn’t hear you sob against your couch, the stoic wall you put up crumbling away with every passing moment.

“Y/N,” his voice is shaky now. “Y/N, please don’t cry.”

Feeling caught and cornered, your brain enters fight or flight mode, and promptly chooses the latter. “I’m not,” you blurt out, and immediately end the call, tossing your phone across the room so you aren’t tempted to call him again.

If time traveling was an option, you’d go back to a decade in the past without a question. For some reason it hurts more that after all this time, Yoon Jeonghan is still the one that knows you the best.

You wake up the next morning horribly late for work, with a blinding headache and a notification from Jeonghan on your phone.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: is tonight @ semicolon cafe ok with you? after you get off work?

xxx-xxx-xxxx: i won’t take up too much of ur time, i promise

xxx-xxx-xxxx: i’m so sorry y/n

you: its ok. that works, see u then

It’s well past nine o’clock when you finally enter the office. You almost make it to your desk unnoticed until your boss glances at you sneaking in.

“You’re very late,” Seungcheol observes, leaning back in his chair. His gaze is always stern, and today it makes you even more anxious than usual.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize. “Things just… everything kind of worked against me today. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“I believe you,” he says, casting another concerned look at you as you nearly drop your laptop going to your desk. “Is everything okay, Y/N? This really isn’t like you.”

“Yeah,” you lie through a tight smile. Damn Yoon Jeonghan and his stupid face for ruining your whole day. “Everything’s fine.”

Looking back, it’s quite impressive how you manage to keep your composure throughout your whole workday. You know you’ve accomplished a feat when even Junhui doesn’t really notice anything’s wrong. 

Despite how oblivious he comes across at first, your colleague is easily one of the most perceptive people you’ve ever met, as you’ve learned in the past five years you’ve spent at this company.

“Long day?” Junhui swivels around in his chair as he catches you taking a break from your screen.

“Yeah,” you admit, glancing at the clock. Almost five. “Even longer when we get asked to fix all of the intern’s mistakes. How do you just forget to write a whole method?!”

“God, I hope Lee Chan never gets hired as a backend developer. Love the kid, but I’m not sure how he got through college with his code looking like this.”

“Hard agree.”

“Hey, do you have plans after? Me and the rest of the team are probably gonna get dinner together. None of the interns,” he clarifies with a grin. “We need some peace and quiet. I think Wonwoo’s genuinely at his final straw, he’s been downstairs with them all day.”

As tempting as that sounds — Junhui has a knack for finding the best spots in Seoul — you have something more important on your plate for the day.

“Maybe next time,” you decline. “I have to meet someone after work.”

“Oh?” A sly grin spreads across his face. “Someone special?”

“It’s not a date,” you insist, face heating up.

“I never asked if it was, Y/N, you’re just outing yourself at this point.”

“It’s not!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he teases, turning back around. “Keep me posted!”

You roll your eyes.

The end of the day couldn’t have come any slower. Usually, you’d get so engrossed in whatever you were working on that you’d end up staying late, but today you shock everyone by packing up when the clock hits five, bidding Junhui a good night as you almost run to leave the building.

(“Someone’s in a rush,” he remarks when you turn your computer off. “Don’t be late on a first date, it’s not very polite!”

“Fuck off,” you respond, when Seungcheol is safely out of earshot.)

The walk home almost freezes your fingertips, and you have to shove your hands deep into your pockets to keep them from going numb. You make a note to dress accordingly for the biting cold later.

At least the weather matches your mood today.

The idea of a hot shower turns out to be a little too inviting, though, because when you finally step out, hair wrapped in a towel, it’s 6:28, and you have a text from Jeonghan waiting to be opened.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: i’m here, i snagged a table in the back

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath, pulling on an old sweater and some jeans. You don’t have time to fully dry your hair, so you just run your round brush through it a couple of times, hope for the best, and throw it into a claw clip, praying it stays up.

You’re officially twenty minutes late when you finally get to the cafe — it’s not too far from your apartment, thankfully, but you still had to book it — and you approach Jeonghan slightly panting and out of breath. 

(If Junhui was right and this was actually a date, you would be royally screwed.)

“Here, sit,” he pulls out your chair, a little alarmed by your flushed face. “Were you running?”

“Yeah. Sorry I’m late,” you answer, and then you look up at him and the air is knocked out of your lungs as if you weren’t already winded from getting there. He’s even more beautiful than the last time you saw him. “Wow, you…”

“I?”

You’re not even sure what the rest of that sentence was going to be, the words slipping out before you could even think about them. Snap out of it. 

“Nothing,” you say quietly.

“How have you been?”

“You already asked me that.”

“I want to know more.” He’s looking at you like he’s trying to memorize your features; it’s hard to ignore. 

“I don’t have anything interesting going on,” you deflect. “Tell me about what’s going on with you. You said you wrote a new song?”

Jeonghan’s face lights up when you say it. “I did. I spent around nine months rewriting and perfecting it. It’s kind of like my child, in a way.”

“Yoon Jeonghan, a father. I never thought I’d see the day.”

He laughs, and it feels like a part of your old selves is back. “Want to listen?”

You nod, and he passes you an AirPod and his phone. “Imperfect Love,” you read out loud. “That’s deep.”

“It came from a pretty raw place,” he confesses. “Something that’s kind of been on my mind for a while.”

“Something or someone?”

Jeonghan’s face reflects something akin to panic. “What are you talking about?”

“This seems like a song about unrequited love,” you deadpan. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

“Well, it’s not,” he huffs. “Don’t assume things.”

“This is the kind of update I was waiting for. You didn’t tell me you’d found someone!”

“I didn’t!” he insists, concealing a smile. “Will you just stop asking questions and listen already?”

“Alright, Mr. Unlucky in Love,” you tease, securing the AirPod in your ear and pressing play.

The instrumentals are beautiful, and Jeonghan’s angelic voice fills your ears a few seconds later. You haven’t heard him sing in a long time, and you’d forgotten just how ethereal he sounds when he’s pouring his heart into the mic.

The sunlight that happily illuminates this dark world 

Becomes a star when night comes

Come down to me

There are many, many things shining in this world

But among them, you’re the only one that’s precious to me

Jeonghan is watching you nervously, like he’s anxious for what you will say. You make the mistake of catching his eyes, because immediately you falter — they are gorgeous, he is gorgeous, and it feels like you lose time with every second you spend admiring him.

Even if I can’t be the perfect weather for you

Will you still love me like this?

It feels like a silent plea — you wonder what kinds of things have happened to him in the past year that you missed, all the things you don’t know about. 

Together we become old and worn out

Even if you come to me, who’s useless

At the end of a shining day

I’m happy that it’s you every day

The song comes to an end, and you hand Jeonghan’s phone back to him. His eyebrows raise, like a question.

“Did you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him honestly. “I love it.”

A smile breaks out on his face. “That’s good to hear.”

“I’m still convinced you have a secret crush that you’re not telling me about.”

“Oh, not with that again,” he grumbles, waving off your curious questions. 

What you don’t tell him is that you’ve missed hearing him sing and watching him perform, that the look in his eyes when he’s doing what he loves most is something you adore. There are a lot of things like that you want to say to him, and as good as the both of you are at acting like nothing’s wrong, the situation feels awfully different this time.

“Hey.” Jeonghan has a glint in his eye, the one he usually has when he’s up to something. “Do you wanna leave and go get tteokbokki and fried dumplings at the night market stands instead?”

Your favorites, from when you were a broke college student and couldn’t afford anything nicer. How did he still remember that?

“Yeah,” you say, already grabbing your things and standing. “Let’s go.”

You had forgotten that it was cold as fuck outside.

You had also forgotten that the food stalls were in the opposite direction of your house, so now you’re stuck walking twice the distance in the freezing weather. 

“Are you warm enough?” Jeonghan asks, a bit worried. Stop looking out for me, you want to scream at him. Stop caring. Stop making such a fool out of me.

“I am, but I know you’re not,” you scold instead. “I’ve been telling you for years to dress for the weather.”

“Eh, what’s a little bit of cold?” he jokes, but you catch him shivering violently out of the corner of your eye, and you can’t just watch as he suffers.

“Here.” You pull your scarf off of your neck and hold it out to him. “Wear it.”

“Are you su—”

“Wear it before I take it back.”

You wait until Jeonghan’s listened to you, the warm fabric wrapped around his neck. A part of you thinks you’ll always feel the urge to look after him.

Stop it.

“You still haven’t told me about yourself,” Jeonghan starts hesitantly. “I know I’ve probably missed a lot of things in the past few years.”

“Eight years,” you correct him. “We graduated and then you disappeared.”

“I didn’t disappear, things just got really hectic,” he tries to explain. “Like, all of a sudden everything was on my shoulders, and I had to spend all my time working towards what I wanted. That or it was all just gonna go to waste.”

“Right,” you leave it at that, not wanting to start an argument on the road. This always happens — you’ll run into Jeonghan somehow, you’ll somewhat reconcile, fight, make up, and then it’s radio silence from him again. A year after you graduated college, you stopped looking for news articles on him entirely, actively avoiding any headlines with his name in them. It hurt a little too much to bear. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

You suck in a breath at the quick response. 

“Yeonju’s doing well,” you start, even though he probably knows that already. “She has a cat now, actually. She adopted him a couple of months ago.”

“Really? What’s his name?”

“Mandu, because she says he’s round and fat like a dumpling.”

Jeonghan snorts. “That’s like when Josh told us his dog’s name was Bingsu.”

“Oh, I remember that,” you say, faintly reminded of his college roommate. “Um, there’s not much else, honestly. Junhui is still a major pain in my ass, that definitely hasn’t changed.”

“Your work friend, right? I thought you two got along pretty well?”

“Yeah, we do,” you admit. You don’t need to explain any further, because Jeonghan knows that your sarcastic remarks are reserved for those you cherish the most.

“It’s been a really long time since you introduced us,” he muses. “But I still remember him pretty clearly.”

He remembers you, too, you think to yourself, recounting all the times you’ve ranted to Junhui about all the times Jeonghan got on your very last nerve. Just not as fondly.

“Oh! Wonwoo actually joined the same company two years ago. I think I told you this already,” Jeonghan confirms with a nod, “But it’s really nice getting to see him again, I missed when we used to hang out in college.”

“Aw, that must be really nice.”

“And the three of us still work for Seungcheol,” you conclude.

“I remember him, too. The one with the huge ass biceps,” Jeonghan says, a bit miffed. “I don’t think he liked me very much.”

“He doesn’t like randoms coming in during work hours, which is what you did, Han.”

“Oh. Right.”

Despite his short response, you know Jeonghan is smiling to himself right now, and you kick yourself mentally for letting the decades-old nickname slip. The two of you may be on a truce right now, but that doesn’t mean you’ve forgiven him.

A few minutes later, the lanterns and lights of the night market come into view. A little piece of childhood memory burrows its way into your heart. The vendors and stalls may have changed, but you used to love visiting this street with Jeonghan when you were still students. 

“I really feel so old right now,” Jeonghan remarks as he follows you through the narrow walkways. “I feel like the last time I’ve been here was when we were eighteen.”

“It probably was,” you say. “Oh! Tteokbokki!”

You don’t even realize the way you’re holding on to the sleeve of Jeonghan’s sweater as you pull him along with you in excitement. He doesn’t say anything, just chuckles to himself as he walks behind you.

“Two cups, please,” you request the vendor when you finally get to the cart, and reach for your wallet. Jeonghan stops you before you can get to your pocket.

“No way,” he says firmly. “This one’s on me.”

“Jeonghan.”

“That voice isn’t working on me this time.” He hands the vendor a couple of bills with a friendly smile. “Just let me buy dinner tonight.”

You cross your arms. “No.”

“Why not? You had no problem doing it back in college.”

“Don’t bring that up now,” you say sharply, stung by the familiar memory. Jeonghan senses the shift in your attitude and drops the subject immediately.

“Wait here,” he tells you. “I’ll be back in a second.”

What are you supposed to do with yourself? Oh, you’re a mess, you realize, the way your feelings haven’t been in check for the entire evening. You were supposed to be so calm and collected, and now you’re anything but.

“Here you go,” the vendor hands you two steaming cups of the spicy rice cakes. “One for you, one for your friend.”

“Thank you.”

The man nods towards Jeonghan, making his way back through the sea of people. “Never let go of someone who cherishes you that much,” he says offhandedly, stirring the tteok in the pot.

You just blink, confused. “What?”

Before the vendor can answer, Jeonghan’s already caught up to you again. “There was nobody in line for fried dumplings,” he tells you excitedly. “Here, have some.”

“Thanks,” you say as you exchange with him for the tteokbokki, ignoring the awkward encounter you’ve just had. “We should probably get out of the way and find somewhere to sit down.”

“Yeah, we should.”

There are a few benches at the corner of the street, and you pick the empty one under one of the streetlamps, a hazy yellow glow cast over it. Sitting down, you bite into the first dumpling, the flavor flooding into your mouth.

“Jeonghan.”

“Yes?”

“Is this shrimp?”

“Yes?” He looks adorably confused in the dim light. “You prefer seafood over pork, right?”

Your heart feels like it’s beating at double the pace. “I do,” you reassure him. “It’s really good. Thank you.”

“Try the tteokbokki, too, it’s just the right level of spicy.”

“I will.”

Just being there and enjoying the food in silence reminds you of how easy it is to just be around Jeonghan. There’s no pressure to break the quiet; it’s comforting and peaceful. 

You watch him savor the tteokbokki sauce and smile to yourself when he winces slightly. He’s always had less of a spice tolerance than you.

“Jeonghan?”

“Hm?”

“Are you going to vanish on me again when you leave Seoul?”

The question stops him in his tracks. He doesn’t seem to have the words to answer, and the lack of a response makes your heart sink.

“Why are you thinking about that right now?” he says instead, chiding you gently. “Did you finish eating?”

The way you’re looking at him now, your eyes are imploring him. Please don’t make me empty promises again. 

“It’s rude to answer a question with another question.”

Jeonghan rakes a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I’ve never vanished, Y/N, it’s just hard for me to leave my work that often,” he insists, “and besides, you’ve got Junhui and Yeonju and Wonwoo to entertain you in the meantime —”

“None of them are you!” Several people passing by glance over at you, but you can’t help that your voice is rising when you feel the anger bubbling up. “You’re my best friend, Jeonghan, do you have any idea how hard it’s been doing life without you?”

“Y/N, we’re past our youth,” he tries reasoning with you. “We don’t have to be attached at the hip all the time.”

Every word he says is like a knife to your chest. “You shouldn’t have asked to meet up today, then.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Jeonghan shuts his eyes, trying to think of the right words. “I just can’t be there for you all the time in the way that you want anymore. You’re stable, you have a solid job, but my livelihood depends on my music and whether people like me or not. That’s the harsh truth of it. And I’m not getting any younger, either.”

“I’m not asking you to be there for me all the time,” you snap. “All I ever wanted was the occasional message. A few updates. Whether you’re doing okay, how your life is going, things like that. Don’t give me bullshit excuses. I know you have thirty seconds to text me back letting me know that you’re alive.”

And stop playing with my heart, you want to add. Whether you’re aware of it or not.

“Fuck,” Jeonghan swears under his breath. “Y/N, let’s calm down and talk about this inside —”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down, Yoon Jeonghan.” Your fists are clenched right now. Jeonghan knows this about you; you don’t get angry quite often, but when you do, you are a force to be reckoned with. “It’s always a goddamn cycle with you. You show up, make all these promises, and then abandon me again. What am I supposed to do with that?”

You’re on the verge of tears, but you can’t cry in front of him. Anywhere but here.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he pleads with you. “I don’t know what more to say other than I’ve been trying my best, I really have been.”

You’re not having any of it. “Yeah, right,” you scoff, averting your eyes so you have time to blink the tears away. 

“I mean it. I want to be there for you, but…” he trails off, voice shaky. “It’s just been so difficult.”

“Save it, Jeonghan.” You don’t think you can be here for a minute longer without totally breaking down. “I should really get going now.”

“Y/N, wait —”

“If you took the subway, there’s a station down that street if you keep walking for a few minutes.”

“Wait,” Jeonghan insists, standing. “Let me at least walk you home.”

“No need,” you retort, turning around and setting off towards your apartment. It’s even colder now that it’s completely dark out, and you start to regret your choice of coat as your teeth chatter quietly. All you can do is thug it out for the remaining three blocks to your apartment building.

The wind stings your eyes and you tear up anyway, despite your attempts to keep it down for now. Why did you think today was going to go any better than every other time this has happened? 

Stupid. Your fault for thinking anything would have changed in eight years. 

It’s not until you approach the entrance to your building that you hear the quiet shuffling of footsteps. You whirl around, ready to fight, but you stop short when you see Jeonghan standing several feet behind you.

“Just to make sure you got back okay,” he says quietly, walking over to you. You accept gingerly when he places your scarf back in your hands. “It’s late.”

You don’t even know how to feel; you’re too high-strung with too many lines of thought in your brain at the same time. “Thank you.”

“One more thing.” Jeonghan hands you a small plastic bag. You peer inside.

“What is this?”

“Tiramisu,” he says, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

“Oh,” you’re confused. “Why?”

It should make you even more furious that he has the audacity to give you a soft smile, but for some reason it doesn’t.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

The realization hits you belatedly — how did you manage to forget? — that you were so swamped with work commitments, it had totally slipped your mind today. (So that was why your phone had been constantly buzzing with notifications from Yeonju before you’d put it on silent.) 

Jeonghan’s gesture, though, comes as a complete surprise, and it starts to dissipate the irritation from earlier.

“You remembered.”

“Of course,” he says simply, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I never forgot.”

just friends, that's not enough for me

EIGHT YEARS AGO

Normally, you are not someone who is criminally inclined. 

However, it’s currently five in the morning on a day where you don’t have class until noon, so whoever is calling you at this time is most definitely going to end up six feet under.

You answer without checking who it is first, eyes still closed. “Hello?” 

“Happy birthday!”

“Huh?” You lift your head just to be sure you heard correctly. “Yoon Jeonghan, it’s five a.m!”

“I know!”

“Why are you awake?”

“To tell you happy birthday?”

“Thank you, but cut the crap,” you tell him.

“I pulled an all-nighter to finish a project,” he admits. “Worth it, though. I’m the first person who told you, right?”

“You keep forgetting I live with Yeonju,” you point out, glancing over at your sleeping roommate.

“Damn it, Choi Yeonju!”

You grimace at his loud exclamation. “Jeonghan?”

“Yeah?”

“Do me a favor and let me go back to sleep.”

“Okay, but I’m waking you up at ten so you don’t skip your linear algebra class.”

“That class is at noon!”

“Yeah, and you take centuries to get ready, dumbass.”

When ten o’clock does roll around, you’re wide awake already. Yeonju is still fast asleep, so you try to get ready for class as quietly as possible.

jeonghan: i’m outside ur building

jeonghan: hurry up i’m hungry

you: ??? when u said u were gonna wake me up i thought u meant u would call

jeonghan: uhh surprise?

“Are you serious,” you mutter under your breath, haphazardly throwing an outfit on and rushing downstairs. Quickly, you press your key card against the reader and push the door open to the sight of Jeonghan leaning against the side wall.

“How long were you waiting?” 

“Long enough. God, you really take forever, but I guess you get a pass because it’s your birthday,” he says begrudgingly, gesturing for you to walk with him.

The weather is quite bleak, but the slight smile on Jeonghan’s face is enough to chase the dreary atmosphere away, like your very own sun.

“Did you sleep at all?” you question, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

“I tried, but by the time I finished the project it was already seven and Joshua was up, so I just didn’t bother. That guy’s a freak, I’m telling you. I don’t know anybody else who wakes up that early just to go to the gym.”

“Well, you don’t go at all. Maybe that’s why he has those nice muscles and you don’t.”

Jeonghan’s mouth drops open in surprise. “Are you kidding? Is this why you keep coming over? To ogle Joshua Hong’s arms?”

“Yeah, cause Joshua Hong is my best friend,” you deadpan. “Is it such a crime to just appreciate a nice set of muscles?”

“Okay, okay, stop talking about Josh when you’re with me and get in the car,” he urges, fishing out his keys. “Or we’ll be late and you won’t make it to that class.”

“I don’t even go half the time,” you point out. “And you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“What I can do is promise you will be happy and fed by approximately half past eleven.” Jeonghan starts the car, adjusting his mirrors. “Is that good enough for you?”

“Deal.”

It strikes you then, beneath the dim sunshine, how good he looks when he’s driving. His eyebrows are furrowed as he focuses on the road, humming along to the song playing through Bluetooth. For all the jokes you throw at him for never being seen at the gym, his arms are quite toned, subtly flexed as he makes a turn with one hand on the wheel.

God, you are so done for.

A few minutes later, Jeonghan pulls into a relatively empty lot. The building is quite unassuming, but you recognize this cafe as the one you frequent during exam season for your coffee fix.

“I love this place!” you exclaim, beaming at him. “How did you know?”

“‘Cause you never shut up about it,” he quips back, grinning.. “Stay here, I’ll just be a minute.”

You hum quietly to yourself as you wait for him to come back, content where you are. There couldn’t have been a better start to your day, aside from Jeonghan’s early morning call, and you think you’d be happy to spend the day just like this, peacefully with him and your closest friends.

In truth, you aren’t really sure how to navigate things with Jeonghan at the moment. Your relationship has always been labeled as strictly platonic, but lately there have been things that make you want to think otherwise. A few stolen glances, the way he looks out for you a little extra… you think you’re going insane. 

That, and the way your heart has been reacting when you make eye contact with him lately has been a bit unsettling.

(“Don’t be so delusional,” Yeonju had told you a week ago. “You have a lot to lose here if anything happens. Plus, it’s Yoon Jeonghan, everyone thinks he’s flirting with them.”

“Yeah,” you’d replied flatly. “You’re right.”)

But maybe you’re allowed to be a little selfish. Maybe those sunlit smiles and most vulnerable moments are memories reserved just for you.

The car door opens again, and Jeonghan pokes his head in, handing you a plastic bag as he gets in. 

“Sustenance,” is all he says. “Eat before you go to class or I’ll have to deal with your hangry whining after.”

His words sound annoyed, but his tone is soft with you, like it usually is. You flash him a grateful smile before pulling the boxes out.

“What’s this?”

“Avocado toast, but yours has egg on it.” He wrinkles his nose with displeasure at the combination. “Plus a little sweet treat for your caffeine addiction.”

“This is beautiful,” you hold up the tiramisu box. “The caffeine is speaking to me, Hannie. We are one and the same.”

“One would think you’re on drugs.”

“One would think living with a chemistry major would teach you that caffeine is a drug,” you tease, sinking your teeth into the golden toast. You hadn’t realized just how hungry you were until now — maybe you shouldn’t have skipped dinner last night. “Wow, this is good.”

“It is,” Jeonghan agrees, “but I’ll stick with no eggs for now.”

“You’re just ignorant and have bad taste.”

“Again, free pass only because it’s your birthday.” Jeonghan waits for you to swallow, then asks, “So, does twenty-one feel any different?”

“Nope,” you say decidedly. “Why would it? The only thing that’s changed is that drinking is legal now.”

“Oh, and you can gamble.”

“Right, but I don’t have enough savings to do that.”

Jeonghan laughs to himself at a stray memory. “Remember when I turned twenty-one? I’ve never had a night more disastrous than that one.”

“I do remember! Anyone would assume you were a raging alcoholic,” you snicker. “Even Soonyoung felt the need to sober up and help me get you back to your place. Do you know how impossible that is for him?”

Jeonghan looks like he’s questioning his whole life. “Yeah, that is pretty bad,” he admits. “Good thing it hasn’t happened since and I’m a responsible alcohol enjoyer now.”

“You drank a whole bottle of soju before your exam last week because you ‘needed to pregame’ or you’d fail it.”

“... Right.”

The two of you eat in silence, careful not to drop crumbs in his car, enjoying the midday quiet with each other’s company and nothing else. It’s moments like these with him that you cherish the most.

Yeonju’s Don’t be so delusional echoes in your head, like a silent rebuke.

“Hey, we should start heading back,” Jeonghan says, glancing at the time. “Let this be the day that Y/N graces the lecture hall with her presence.”

You groan, not wanting to spend another hour and a half trying not to doze off listening to who is possibly the most boring professor at your entire university. Jeonghan pats your back empathetically.

“It’s okay,” he consoles you, “Just think about how you’ll feel later when it’s all over and done with.”

“I’ll feel like it was a huge waste of time and I could have just asked Wonwoo to catch me up,” you grumble. 

Jeonghan’s smile falters a little bit at the mention of your classmate, one of Soonyoung’s friends and therefore a part of the friend group. You still can’t figure out why Jeonghan isn’t too fond of him, but you  just assume they haven’t had the opportunity to connect as much and brush it off.

“He got me through data structures last semester,” you offer, trying to defend your point. “Or I’d probably have failed.”

“Right, I remember,” Jeonghan says absentmindedly. You don’t say anything more until you’re back on campus again, picking up on his sensitive mood. When you start making your way to your lecture hall, he follows you, and you let him.

“I’ll walk you to class, I have to print something out at the student center, anyways,” he explains, bag on one shoulder. “Also, you left this in the car. Eat it after class, or whenever.”

You take the plastic bag he hands you, the faint scent of coffee filling your nose. “Thanks.”

Jeonghan fills your ears with silly stories about his friends over the short walk and you listen carefully, always happy to hear about the boys. It’s been a while since you’ve seen them anyways; you’ve been swamped with work, and time that all of you have free together is quite rare.

“I should go in now,” you tell him when you reach the hall. You wish you didn’t have to be here, but you might as well, and Jeonghan can easily read the annoyance written on your face. He pats your shoulder gently.

“It’s okay,” he consoles you. “Come over later so we can all eat cake and listen to you rant about your god-awful professor.”

“Okay.”

“And so you can get an eyeful of Joshua’s arms, you freaking pervert.”

You gasp. “Am not!” you screech, punching his arm.

“Ow!”

“Take it back!”

“Not afraid to speak my truth,” Jeonghan says instead, feigning injury. “This is literally abuse.”

You roll your eyes. “Get out.”

“Go in.”

“Fine,” you huff, pulling open the double doors, but you look back over your shoulder before you let them close behind you. “See you later?”

Jeonghan nods, a twinkle in his eye. 

(You won’t know it now, but this is the look on his face that you’ll remember for the rest of your life.) 

 “See you later.”

Choi Yeonju is, you discover, the lightweight of all lightweights.

That title had belonged to Soonyoung up until now, but tonight even he’s watching her in disbelief from where he’s perched on Joshua and Jeonghan’s couch.

“I only gave her a shot,” he promises you, eyes big and pleading. “I swear on my life.”

“I know,” you sigh, grabbing her sleeve and pulling her away from the wall she’s about to faceplant into. “It’s okay, I’ve got an eye on her.”

“Sorry,” Soonyoung offers sheepishly. “I know you were planning on getting wasted tonight.”

You were not, in fact, planning on that at all. “Who told you that?”

“Jeonghan?”

“That evil bastard.”

The evil bastard in question is currently deeply immersed in a card game with a couple of others at the small kitchen table. The subtle flush on his face tells you he’s a couple of drinks in, and if you squint enough, you can see the silhouette of cards hidden in the sleeve of his jacket. Typical.

“Y/N!” Yeonju taps your shoulder urgently. “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

She grins. “I wanna go to the bathroom.”

“Alright, come on. You gotta stand up,” you inform her gently when she doesn’t budge from her spot on the sofa.

“Comfy,” is all she says, mumbling into the furniture.

“Do you still need to go to the bathroom?”

“No.”

Soonyoung just looks at you in total confusion and shrugs. 

“Nothing to do about it until she asks again,” he says before sinking into the couch beside her. He still looks relatively sober — sober enough to handle the situation if Yeonju decides to walk into a wall again — so you tell him you’ll be right back and decide to check in on the game going on.

You walk in on a crime scene.

“You!” Seungkwan throws an accusing finger at Jeonghan, who you can tell is playing innocent through his surprised expression. “You rigged the game!”

“I didn’t do anything! I won fair and square!”

“Count the cards,” Seungkwan tells Wonwoo vengefully. “There won’t be fifty-two, I’m telling you!”

Jeonghan stands suddenly, laying his hand on the table. Everyone else is too busy yelling amongst themselves, and Wonwoo seems to be content with watching them argue, but you catch the way Jeonghan slips the cards in his sleeve into the pile unassumingly.

“Excuse me, boys,” he says smugly, “but I’m going to go on a little victory walk. Don’t mind me, enjoy!”

Seungkwan grumbles, but lets him go in favor of helping Seokmin back into the chair he’s just fallen off of. In the meantime, Jeonghan sidles up to you, faintly smelling of tequila.

“You seem very sober,” he observes.

“I am,” you laugh. “Not entirely, but sober enough to notice the cards you stashed during the game.”

Jeonghan’s face morphs into one of surprise, then mirth. “Shh,” he winks, placing a finger on your lips. That alone short-circuits your brain, so you nearly miss his next words. “It can be our little secret.”

“Oh, you are tipsy tipsy,” you murmur, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know if you’re up for that victory walk you were talking about.”

“I am! I’m so up for it,” he announces, tucking his arm in yours. “Let’s go take a walk outside.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

“What’s four plus four?”

He rolls his eyes. “Ninety-two,” he says sarcastically. “Please, I’m not a lightweight like the rest of our friends.”

You cast a glance at the couch; Soonyoung has been roped into listening into whatever story Yeonju’s telling him very animatedly, sitting attentively with his back unnaturally straight. He looks a little scared of her energetic narration, which is a first for someone like him.

They should be fine, right? You don’t plan on being gone for long — usually you wouldn’t think twice about leaving Soonyoung and Yeonju together, but in their current state you’re not sure how chaotic they’ll get.

“They’ll be fine.” Jeonghan mirrors your thoughts as if he’s read your mind. His voice feels a little too close, like his lips are right by your ear. Too close, too close — you’re faintly aware of your breathing accelerating, heart running on sheer adrenaline.

By the time you snap out of it, he’s already at the door, turning to find you when he realizes you’re not next to him. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” is all you can manage before you grab your coat off the hook and follow him out the door. A part of you wishes Yeonju was sober so she could slap the delusion out of you.

Jeonghan opts for the stairs — “We’re only on the second floor!” — and is waiting patiently at the main door for you. The smile he greets you with is blinding, and his eyes crinkle a little more when you return it. 

“Did you bring your keys?”

“Right here.” Jeonghan pats his pocket reassuringly and pulls the door open. “After you, m’lady.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” you laugh, reveling in the moment. 

It’s windy outside, and you glance over at Jeonghan, satisfied to see that he’s dressed warmly for once. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and for a man his size, his thick sweater is draped over his body in a way that makes him look a little smaller. It’s adorable, and it just makes you want to reach over and squish his cheeks.

“You’re awfully quiet for a man who just won a game against Boo Seungkwan,” you tease gently. Jeonghan chuckles, rubbing his hands together to warm them up.

“Nothing new,” he says. “Seungkwan just has bad strategy and won’t admit it.”

“Or you just enjoy cheating a little too much.”

He gives you a knowing smile. “Touché.”

You’re not exactly sure where you’re going; you don’t think Jeonghan does, either, but the two of you fall in step together perfectly on the sidewalk. It’s not too late yet, maybe nine or ten, and the streets are relatively crowded, as expected for a college city.

“Do you think we’ll be really different when we’re thirty?”

You look at Jeonghan, a bit surprised at the question. “What do you mean?”

“Like, we’re twenty-one now,” he explains, “Remember when we were sixteen? We had so many ideas about what we were gonna be, and we’re already there. Five years passed so quickly.”

You nod, reminiscent of your childhood days. “We’re gonna hit thirty before we know it.”

“Do you think I’ll be bald by thirty?”

“If you are, I’ll take lots of pictures of you and your shiny head,” you joke. “For memories.”

“Noo, not my hair,” Jeonghan laments theatrically. “My gorgeous, gorgeous hair.”

You can’t even counter that, because it’s true: Jeonghan must have won the gene pool because his hair has always been soft and silky. It’s longer now than it used to be, curling a little bit just under his ears and brushing the back of his neck.

“Soonyoung’s been campaigning for you to go platinum blond,” you inform him. “He keeps saying if you do it, he’ll dye his whole head bright yellow.”

“Highlighter Soonyoung is really not something I want to see.”

The more the wind picks up, the tighter Jeonghan has his arm looped around yours. His lips are pursed, like he’s preoccupied with something else.

“Y/N.”

“Yes?”

“Are we still gonna be friends when we’re thirty years old?”

The subtle, vulnerable tone in his voice surprises you a little bit. Drunk words are sober thoughts, you suppose.

You try to cheer him up, saying, “Why, did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”

“No,” he shakes his head firmly. “Everything is so much easier with you.”

Don’t be delusional, don’t be delusional, is the mantra in your head as you attempt to ignore your rapid heartbeat. The truth is that you agree — the way Jeonghan just gets you makes things so uncomplicated and free.

It’s been this way since middle school, when twelve-year-old you found home in the boy who always helped you sneak snacks from your desk during class when the teacher wasn’t watching. 

Jeonghan has always been the first person you think of in a sticky situation; he’s always been reliable, above all, because he knows you would do the same for him without even needing to think about it. He’s been by your side for so long, you can’t even picture what a life without him would look like now.

Your next words would never see the light of day had Jeonghan been sober, but you suppose you can get away with erring on the side of honesty.

“Me too,” you tell him quietly, holding onto him just a little bit tighter. “I like life a little better when it’s with you.”

because i love you, because saying i love you isn't enough

PRESENT DAY

The office is quiet when it’s late at night; there aren’t many people who enjoy staying past their stated hours, but you figure it can’t hurt to finish some additional tasks when you don’t really have much to go home to. You can’t remember the last time you had a day to yourself without worrying about deadlines; the lines of code haunt you in your sleep and fill every waking hour. Every night spent working overtime is a testament to your determination, though it crumbles it a little each time.

Today, though, you’re joined by Junhui and Wonwoo, the three of you working under the dim light. The rest of your team packed up and left hours ago, so it’s just you on this floor of the building.

“I feel like my eyes are melting in their sockets,” Junhui complains, stretching for the first time in what you think is a solid eight hours. “I don’t know how Wonwoo does it.”

“He’s a machine,” you joke. He’s got headphones on, most probably noise canceling, so you know he can’t hear you two. (Or he’s choosing not to.) “I just don’t want to go home with this stuff unfinished because I know I won’t stop thinking about it all night.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve pulled an all-nighter in the office.”

“Unfortunately.”

Junhui frowns. “You need to take time for yourself,” he expresses. You let him lecture you, even though he’s younger. “Do stuff that you enjoy that doesn’t involve writing code. You know, enrich your personal life.”

“Maybe,” you sigh, putting your head in your hands. “There’s barely any time as of now.”

“Speaking of personal lives, I still can’t believe you won’t tell me about your date,” he sulks. “You’ve always come back with stories about your dates.”

“There haven’t even been that many,” you say at the same time Wonwoo turns around with his headphones off of one ear, asking, “Date? Really?”

You give the man a look. “You didn’t hear us say your name, but that was what caught your attention?”

“Well, Jun’s always talking, but the last time you went on a date was two years ago, so this is news to me.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Junhui reasons. “Everyone has bad dates. It’s a universal experience.”

“Okay, first of all, it was not a date,” you clarify. “I just met up with a friend from college.”

This piques Wonwoo’s interest. “Wait, really? Who?”

“Right, I keep forgetting you guys went to college together,” Junhui mutters under his breath.

“Did you see Yeonju again?”

“It was nobody,” you lie through your teeth, kicking yourself internally for your choice of words. As much as both men know about your ongoing tug-of-war situation with Jeonghan, you don’t really want to bring it up in conversation, and definitely not now of all times. “It went fine, just some catching up.”

“So it wasn’t a date?”

“You really need to stop believing everything Junhui tells you without fact checking it first.”

“Damn,” he says. “And we thought you were finally getting some action.”

“Wonwoo!”

The conversation is interrupted by the low rumble of your stomach in the few seconds of silence that pass afterwards. Both men turn to look at you expectantly.

“I haven’t eaten all day,” you admit, a little embarrassed. “I’m starving.”

“I’ll order takeout,” Wonwoo volunteers, already reaching for his phone. “Is kimchi fried rice okay with you guys?”

“Fine by me.”

“With pork?” Junhui asks hopefully.

“Done.”

The three of you promptly get back to work, aiming to maximize the amount of work you get done before the food arrives and you inevitably break focus. By the time the delivery notification goes off on Wonwoo’s phone, you’ve knocked off about three quarters of your to-do list for the day.

Good enough, you reassure yourself, pulling the sticky note off of your desk and flicking it into the trash can. 

Junhui eats in a record time of ten minutes — you swear you’ve never seen him scarf down food this fast before — and starts packing up at his desk, dropping off a couple of notes on Seungcheol’s desk for tomorrow morning’s meeting.

“My girlfriend is going to be so upset if I’m not home soon,” he says ruefully, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Take care, guys! And thanks for dinner, Wonwoo, I owe you one.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

You and Wonwoo finish not too long after, and you take your time cleaning up the place, making sure everything is thrown away and in its place. 

“Are you ready to lock up and go?”

“Yeah, let’s head out.”

It’s not until you’re in the elevator, heading to the parking garage, that Wonwoo speaks up again. A little hesitantly at first, but the concern in his tone is still evident.

“Hey, has everything been good with you lately?”

“Hm?” You look at him curiously, wondering what it was that made him ask. “Yeah, why?”

He shrugs, looking down at you through thick-rimmed glasses. “Just haven’t checked in with you in a bit. Seungcheol’s needed me all over the place lately, so it’s been a while since I caught up with you guys.”

“Right, you’ve been in back to back meetings with the design team,” you muse. “Seolhwa was talking about how chaotic it’s been in the restroom earlier.”

“Yeah, it’s been pretty tough.”

The elevator opens with a ding! and you follow him out, fishing for your keys that are probably somewhere in one of your pockets.

“I parked a little far,” you tell him, “so I’ll get going now. But I’ll see you at tomorrow’s meeting, right?”

Wonwoo just looks at you gently, like he’s seeing right through you. 

“Jeonghan’s the one you met up with, isn’t he?”

You freeze. “What?”

“I had a feeling, but it was a little more obvious when you started getting defensive,” he chuckles. “Plus, I think you forget I’ve known you for nearly a decade now.”

You allow yourself to breathe, relaxing the taut muscles in your neck. “I didn’t want to make it awkward,” you admit. “I know you said you guys still keep in touch sometimes. I don’t want to make it weird.”

Wonwoo raises his eyebrows. “Just for birthdays and things like that. We weren’t really that close in college, either.”

Not really knowing what to say, you stay silent, eyes glued to the ground. He seems to sense this and drops the matter, reaching over to pat your shoulder.

“I won’t pry,” he says lightly, “But if you ever want to talk about it, just know you can always call up an old friend.”

You smile. “Thanks, Wonwoo.”

“Take care, Y/N. Get home safe.”

The drive home is numbing. The playlist you have on dulls into background noise as you focus on the road, fighting the urge to yawn. It’s nearly eleven o’clock at night, and all you want is to be back in your bed.

At the back of your mind, all you can think about is the text you woke up to this morning.

yoon jeonghan: hey, i just wanted to tell you tomorrow is my last day in seoul 

yoon jeonghan: i don’t know if you want to see me or not, but i’ll be at semicolon cafe working for most of the day. pls drop by if you have some free time. i really miss you.

So typical of him, to leave it up to you to go find him. And yet, you would — if it came down to it, you would go to the ends of the earth if he asked you to. 

Yeonju would be furious if you told her you were even considering it, you scold yourself. After all, she’d only told you to speak to him once for your own peace of mind. Last week should have given you all the closure you needed. 

Still, your conscience is swayed at the idea of being able to see him again. 

You shake the thoughts out of your head, as if the subtle action could erase the pain and longing you’ve felt for the past eight years. 

The traffic light turns green. You step on the gas and don’t look back.

even if i can't be the perfect weather for you, will you still love me like this?

SIX YEARS AGO

Jeonghan has been in the studio for hours.

Nothing seems to sound right, and the frustration makes him want to pull his hair out. He can’t even remember the last time he got out of the chair, but he doesn’t want to lose even a little bit of whatever workflow he’s managed to maintain while he’s been in here.

Occasionally, when the weather is just a little dull and time seems to tick by too slowly, he wonders if he made the right choice. Maybe he should have stuck with his career, actually put his degree to use, instead of setting it aside in the name of passion.

He’s vocalized these thoughts to his manager many times, and Jihoon is awfully good at raising his spirits, but the self doubt seeping into his soul is very hard to ignore.

Reluctantly, he presses the play button again, whatever he’s conjured up in the last couple of hours playing in his headphones again. It doesn’t sound any better this time. 

Yes, he could swallow his pride and ask Jihoon for help, but after a year and a half of unsuccessful ventures in the music industry, he wants to be able to do something on his own.

Prove himself; to Jihoon, the world, and you.

Jeonghan will never forget your only words to him when he’d first revealed his plan to switch career paths, just a month or two before graduation. 

(“I always believe in you,” you’d said, following it up with a comforting hug. 

“Always?”

“Always.”)

And when you said that with such conviction, placing all of that trust and belief in his hands, he knew there was no way he could turn back on what he’d set his sights on. In truth, on days where things just seem so bleak, you are his strength, and he wishes he could tell you that.

But when your name comes through on his phone, he falters.

What is he supposed to say? All he can give is excuses, that nothing’s really worked, nothing has panned out in his favor yet. As it is, the two of you haven’t spoken that much since graduating, both of you occupied with your own goals and careers, and at times like these he feels your absence a little extra.

Is this what it means to grow up and grow apart?

For now, he ignores the buzzing, telling himself he’ll come back when he’s snagged his first real achievement. You’ll be proud of him, and he’ll finally make something of himself.

Jihoon walks into the room, closing the door quietly, right when he’s about to listen to the track for maybe the hundredth time.

“Oh, hey.” Jeonghan can hear the exhaustion in his own voice. “What’s up?”

“Wondering when the last time you slept was.” Jihoon sinks into the chair beside him, trying to lighten the mood. “You look like a zombie.”

“Yeah, I feel like one.”

“You need to spend less time in here,” Jihoon advises gently. “Or you’re going to lose your mind. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

“I just can’t figure out what it is I’m missing,” Jeonghan sighs, evidently frustrated. “It’s like, almost there, but not really. It’s been killing me for days.”

“You know, these things do take time.”

“Or maybe I’m just not cut out for this and I should just go work for a news channel instead.”

Jihoon watches him carefully, picking up on his slumped shoulders and tired eyes. “And then you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you held on just a little bit longer. Do you really want that?”

Jeonghan doesn’t really know what else to say. He’s been hearing the same things from everyone around him — his parents, his sister; everyone talks of a future where he’s already succeeded, but that isn’t set in stone. Nothing is promised, he knows.

“I need a miracle,” he mumbles instead.

“You need to eat,” Jihoon corrects. “I just placed an order for dinner, and I know you like sundubu-jjigae, so you have no excuse to bail on me this time.”

Jeonghan considers this for a moment, then gives in. “Fine,” he says, “but I can’t stay too long.”

“Good.” Jihoon rises, and then places a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “I’m proud of you. You’ve been working really hard.”

“Thank you.”

He’s alone again, when the door closes behind the shorter man. It’s something he’s had to get used to; he’s learned to rely on himself over the past year or so, but when the reality of loneliness sinks in, it breaks his heart just a little. 

Even more so knowing that it’s his fault that he’s pushed everyone away, including you.

Your name is still burned into Jeonghan’s brain, and his fingers itch to respond, but he ignores the urge. His phone is left forgotten as he slips his headphones on again, tinkering with the unfinished track.

And the thought of you dissolves into the music.

we used to be best friends, i remember you said you can be yourself when i'm around

PRESENT DAY

Today is the day that Choi Seungcheol learns that you are full of surprises.

In all your five years of working for him, he’s never once had you call in sick for work or ask for a day off. You’ve always been hard-working, maybe too much at times, but he sounds like he definitely didn’t anticipate this.

“Oh,” is all he says when you request the morning off. “Yeah, sure. Are you feeling alright?”

“Not really, but I will be before the client meeting at three, so I’ll be present for that.”

“Oh, all right. We’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

It weighs on your conscience that the first time you request time off also happens to be the first time you blatantly lie to your boss, but you’ve already deliberated this enough with Yeonju over call last night.

(“I’ve been such an honest worker,” you said dramatically, “and now I’m running all that to the ground.”

“Don’t be so theatrical. Choi Seungcheol can afford to give you half a day of paid leave.”)

Now that you’ve settled that, you grab your heavy winter coat, setting out into the morning cold. Damn Yoon Jeonghan for making you move your whole day around for him. You had predicted correctly that Yeonju would berate you for it — you sat through a lecture over the phone last night — but that hadn’t deterred your resolve to see him again.

Who knows? His behavior is so erratic that even you, who knew him like the back of your hand at one point, can’t predict him anymore. Today could very well be the last time you see him for another few years until he decides he has the time for you again.

Whatever, you huff to yourself as you walk briskly, knowing that as upset as you get, the soft spot you harbor for him will never go away.

You had worried that it would be a little too early, since it’s only eight in the morning, but you have no problem finding Jeonghan in the sea of caffeine-deprived corporate workers getting their fix in the small establishment. He’s engrossed in his laptop, and he doesn’t realize you’re there until you take the seat across from him, waiting for him to look up.

“Oh,” is all he says, pushing his screen down. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

You sigh. “Yeah, I didn’t think I would, either.”

Jeonghan gives you a sorrowful look, hair fluffy like a halo around his face. “I’m trying, I really am.”

“Jeonghan —”

“I’m juggling so many things at once,” he says quietly. “And I never wanted you to think any less of me. I wanted you to be proud of me..”

“I was. I still am.”

“But I still haven’t done anything.” He sounds more agitated as he speaks. “I haven’t gotten anywhere, I’ve barely made a name for myself. Nothing I do is paying off.”

“You’re trying, though,” you tell him. It saddens you to see him like this. It’s not often that Jeonghan talks about how he feels, especially not now that you’ve grown so distant. “And you don’t have to go off and accomplish great things for me to be proud of you. I already am.”

He’s quiet, like he’s dwelling on something.

“I’m sorry,” he says a few seconds later. “It’s just all been such a mess.”

“That’s okay.”

In the silence between those two words are many more that don’t need to be spoken for him to understand. You’re doing okay. Everything will turn out okay.

“I wish things could go back to the way they were,” he says again, eyes a little shiny when he looks back at you. 

Nostalgia fills your brain, all of those treasured memories with him resting in a well-lit corner of your heart. 

“You know, it really hurts, Han, to keep doing this push and pull with you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

“Don’t apologize,” he laughs wistfully, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shit, I never meant to hurt you, Y/N, honestly. And I’m really trying to be better about it. Things are looking up now, I think. It’s getting a little easier than before.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “I knew you could do it.”

“How…” Jeonghan starts tentatively. “How long are you here for?”

“I’m not sure,” you reply, fidgeting with one of your bracelets. “Not too long.”

“Are you going to have something to eat?” An olive branch.

“I have food I meal-prepped at home.” A subtle denial.

The silence is loud. You try to think of something, anything to say to fill it, but you come up blank. There’s not much else to be said in the fraught air between the two of you. Not now, anyways.

“I’m sorry, I should let you get back to work,” you say suddenly, eyes landing on his half shut laptop. “I didn’t mean to take time out of your day.”

“That’s okay,” he says softly. “I’m really glad I got to see you.”

“Have a safe trip to… wherever you’re going.”

He chuckles. “Just Jeju, but thank you.”

Before you leave, you reach for the scarf loosely wrapped around your neck — your favorite one you’ve had since college, the plaid cream-colored one — and you set it down on the table. He just looks at you questioningly.

“Why…?”

“It’s cold,” you say with a faint smile. “You haven’t changed, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Thank you.”

You take the time to memorize him — the curve of his face, the soft look in his eyes, the one reserved for you and the ones he holds close. If you could etch his features in your brain here and now, you would.

“Well,” you start, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Don’t be a stranger, Han. The next time I see your name, it better be a call from you instead of another news headline.”

Jeonghan nods, eyes forming crescents. “I’ll do my best.”

And there is something to be said about the love in looking back, for sure, but there is also love in not looking back, in choosing to keep your eyes trained on the path before you. There is love in knowing your weaknesses, that if you turn around you might not be able to walk away after all. 

You don’t release the breath you’re holding until you walk out the door. It’s raining, you realize with a start, the previously clear sky clouded over. It seems that your overcast heart has been mirrored by the earth.

The rhythmic droplets provide a strange sense of comfort as you let yourself get soaked, for lack of an umbrella. It works in your favor, anyway, because nobody will assume anything’s amiss if your face is already drenched.

Pit, pat. The smell of wet soil rises in your nostrils, and you let the tears fall.

no matter where i am in the world, i'll say it's you

FOUR YEARS LATER

The lights are blinding, and the sounds of the camera shutters are incessant. But this is the life Jeonghan has always dreamed of, so he doesn’t dare complain.

In truth, he doesn’t care for a lot of the interviews he’s been asked to do — he can’t be bothered by the mundane, mind-numbing questions he gets asked over and over again. Nothing ticks him off like the insensitive digs into his personal life they always ask him, searching for information he doesn’t wish to disclose.

But he does it, anyway, because what choice does he really have? It’s good for your image, Jihoon always tells him, adding another event to his schedule. It’s for your public platform.

“So, you’ve come out with another hit single,” the interviewer starts, beaming at him. His teeth are so artificially white, they seem to reflect the bright studio lights. “How does it feel to accomplish such a success yet again?”

“It’s really great,” Jeonghan answers honestly. “I’m very grateful to my manager, producer, and my beloved family. And, of course, all of the wonderful fans. I couldn’t have done any of this without them.”

“A touching answer as always, Jeonghan-ssi.” The man flashes a smile at the cameras. “Your new single To You was really well received by fans, especially for its fresh and passionate take on what it feels like to be in love.”

The blazer feels stiff now, under the heat of the lights. Jeonghan tries not to dwell too deeply on the true inspiration for the song he’d written late at night a couple years ago, overcome by his own heart.

“I’m really glad that everyone’s been enjoying it so much. That really was the intention,” he says, “to have a song that makes you feel like you’re floating.”

“And it does!” the interviewer laughs. “A lot of viewers really appreciated the sincerity of feelings that was conveyed through the song. Which raised the question; have you ever been in love before?”

Something akin to a late realization suddenly hits Jeonghan right there in the hot seat, under all those lights and cameras. His hand comes up to toy with the end of the scarf he’s wearing, a keepsake of treasured memories.

“Maybe,” he says with a wistful smile.

Wherever you are in the world right now, there’s a small part of him that dares to hope you’re watching.

“Maybe I have.”

thank you for reading! if you have any feedback, i'd love to hear it :) much love, ashi xx

[inthelibrarybtw]

get to know college!student!reader

college!student!reader who is naturally smart, and loves studying, it can get a little too much because she hates to get less than a B in her classes, in high school she got a C once and almost cried her eyes out (no one knows about this) she’s not a party girl, she’s more into staying in watching a movie with her friends, baking and if she’s alone reading a book. baking usually is like a coping mechanism that shows up around finals and midterms because it becomes stress baking, but sometimes she does it for fun or to have a nice little detail for someone she cares about. 

college!student!reader who is very kind, just don’t provoke her,  hates confrontations but always sets her limits. her anxiety and overthinking can get the best of her, her friends know that and always reassure her when she’s having a bad day which is not that often but when it hits it hits hard. she has a hard time asking for help unless it’s her best friend from high school who sadly doesn’t go to the same college as her or kelce since they know each other since they were practically kids. she tends to cry when stressed, angry or when she’s exhausted and drained. 

college!student!reader who loves taylor swift and everything that anyone could classify as basic but she loves it, picking flowers, reading romance books, watching 90s and early 2000s shows. passionate for art and music, loves to go on walks while listening to music, you can catch her going to museums on her own, usually very independent but loves to spend time with her friends and people she loves, quality time is her number one love language and physical touch is the second even if she doesn’t like to admit it. who barely understands sports but when her friends invite her to football or basketball games, she goes to spend time with them and because they always go out for food afterward. 

college!student!reader who is an only child which has allowed her to have a good relationship with her parents, her high school best friend is like her sister, she loves her friends and respects them a lot. she’s really hard on herself, even if she knows she has people who will be there for her no matter what sometimes she shuts down and doesn’t speak to anyone about what she’s going through, shields herself with reading, and externalizes her emotions on playlists or listening one song on a loop as longs as it fits to how she’s feeling.

college!student!reader who loves to take pictures of everything and share them on her social media, it’s like her digital diary. her major suits her for that reason, digital marketing with a minor in graphic design, to in her words “make everything look pretty”. who is bilingual, her mom taught her Spanish since she was little and she uses it a lot when talking to her family and some friends. who is also very sarcastic, always has a smile on her face and most of the time she won’t verbally say stuff but her face sure will let you know everything before she even thinks about saying it.

authors note: thank you so much for all the love this fic is already receiving!! college!student!reader (aka Avery) is very dear to my heart, she has a lot of bits and pieces that I took from my life and put them into who she is. I hope you guys like her and get more excited to read about her.

taglist: @zyafics @maybankslover @niaunoffical @marleymarleymarleymarley @rafesbabygirlx @akobx if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :)

REBLOGS, COMMENTS AND LIKES ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[stinkysam]

Choi Subong “Thanos” - No winner.

Warning : drug and blood mention, talking about dying, stress

Genre : fluff / angst

Synopsis : You get anxious after the mingle game and Thanos tries to comfort you in his own way.

Reader : male (you/yours)

A/N : bold is in English. // I said (to y’all in my head) I wouldn’t write for squid game or Thanos but this fic came to me as I tried to sleep. Not as great as how I imagined it but it’s because I had to wait a day to write it. Don’t expect more fics for this fandom, this was an exception.

You knew Subong since you were kids, before you even got to school and even before his interest in rap. But despite this, you always had an on and off friendship over the years. Constantly arguing and separating only to come back to one another after some time.

His extravagant personality could often clash with your introverted one, and things got even more unstable between you two when he started his rap career and it got only worse with drugs.

He never asked you for money though, even after he lost everything, knowing you too had money troubles.

You didn’t expect to see him here, you knew he had lost all his money because of that YouTuber, but you didn’t think that man would’ve gone after your friend. You felt a bit relieved to see someone you knew, though the last time you saw him, you two had a fight. It was your fault. You said, a bit too tactless, that ‘it was stupid in the first place to listen to some random guy on the internet and trust him with all your money.’

He had only appeared for a few seconds on the giant screen, putting his vape in his mouth, before it showed someone else. You looked around you, trying to make yourself a path to find him amongst the hundreds of people in the room. You spotted his purple hair and called him, as he turned around and saw you, his eyes widened.

“My man !” He exclaimed, raising his hands in the air, walking toward you. “What are you doing here ?!” He asked, grabbing you by the shoulders, shaking you and then hugging you.

You weren’t really surprised, you’d often argue and leave mad only to see each other the next day and act as if nothing happened.

Since then, two days had passed, and by the third you were at your limit. The mingle game was over, Namgyu and some other player walked out of their room while you and Thanos walked out of yours.

“Welcome back, my friends.” Thanos said loudly, and Namgyu followed with a “Skrrt.” as he joined you two.

You sighed as you looked at all the blood splattered on the floor, you noticed a few players slipping on the puddles, making you sick to the stomach.

You all walked back to the lobby as they announced the imminence of the next vote.

While you waited, Thanos was sitting next to you, talking animatedly with Namgyu who acted just as energetic as him, you could tell the pills they had both taken were still doing their magic and the more you heard them talk about what the next games could be, the more you zoned out, spiraling.

There were three games left, and so many people were alive. Sure, a lot of them would die, but it won't be enough, right ? They surely won’t let a large group of people out of this place, so the games will probably be deadlier, and you know you won’t survive three more games.

You were the only one on the side of the room who had voted X, it was on your chest since the first vote. You looked at Minsu who eyed player 380, you knew he wanted to vote X like you, but he seemed too scared of Namgyu and Thanos to do so. Minsu seemed to look up to her, maybe he she voted X he would too ? But how could you make her vote X ?

So many people have voted O and all of them were dead set to keep on voting the same thing.

You felt even more trapped than you already were. Your heartbeat was increasing as you frantically tried to find a way out of here, to win, to escape somehow, looking around at whoever. Would he vote X ? And her ? And them ? No, maybe him ?

Namgyu saw you looking everywhere and gestured to Thanos who placed a hand on the back of your neck, stopping your thoughts.

“What’s going on my brother ?” He asked loudly, voice devoid of any stress or worry.

All eyes slowly turned to you. You looked at Thanos, the blue O on his chest. He never got mad at you for voting X, knowing you wouldn’t change your mind, you were as stubborn as him.

‘We’re all gonna die’. You wanted to say, but nothing came out. Instead your breathing got louder as everyone’s focus remained on you. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re never gonna get out of here alive.

“Bro ?” Thanos called, his other hand going to your cheeks, squeezing them in hope for a reaction. “You there ?” He leaned closer, his eyes scanning yours but instead of giving him a reaction you just stood up and left, walking and climbing to your bed before hiding under the thin blanket.

Thanos looked at the others, they were as surprised as him but said nothing, they had already caught on what was going on.

“The fuck ?”

After a few minutes you heard someone approaching, climbing on your bed and laying next to you. You already knew who it was ; Thanos.

“What’s wrong, man ?” He asked, shaking you slightly. “Sleeping your anxiety away ? You’re still doing that ?” He laughed, remembering the time you admitted why you took so many naps.

You don’t respond.

“Come on, what’s going on ?" He nudged you again and with the lack of response he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer just to annoy you, he knew you wanted space, but he wasn’t going to give it to you.

“What’s bothering you ?” He held you tightly as you shifted, trying to pull away.

Finally, you gave up and poked your head out from the sheet, looking at him with a glare.

“Subong, we’re gonna die.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Woah, full government name.” He chuckled.

“It’s not, and I’m serious. It’s logical, so many people are still here, 001 kicked your ass in a second and he’s still alive with his group, with two marines, we can’t all survive, why would they allow that, only a handful if not just one is gonna survive and it’s not gonna be-”

“I’ll protect you. Don’t worry.” He said with a smile, confident in himself as he patted your head.

“You really think you can win.”

“It’s the rules, if we survive, we’re free. And debt free.”

“What if the rules say we have to make teams of two ?”

“I’ll help you win. I went with you in the mingle game, remember ?”

“But then we have to play against one another and the loser of the two dies.”

He stared at you before smiling and replying.

“Well, I guess you die.” He wiggled his eyebrows and booped your nose with his finger.

You rolled your eyes, unamused and turned away.

“I told you, I’ll protect you.” He added, snuggling closer to you. “We’ll survive, you’ll see.” He closed his eyes, relaxing with a smile.

“Can you let go of me ?”

“No.”

You rolled your eyes, moving your foot to kick him, only for him to kick you back.

“Shhh, accept the affection of the great legend Thanos.”

“Yucks.” You replied with a chuckle.

[ilguna]

☼ neck in neck (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; he just can’t seem to accept the fact that you’re better than him. so now, to defend himself, he’s calling you a copycat in the capitol because of this stupid tattoo. when really, it has a deeper meaning.

warnings; swearing, alcohol consumption, vague threats to violence.

wc; 4.7k

notes; i talk about snow in a """good""" light bc there is no prostitution, not that you can tell in this imagine but still lol.

--

“Ugh, I just love the cocktails here!” Cashmere shouts over the music with a grin on her face. She’s leaned in close enough for you to smell the alcohol on her breath, but she’s trying to make sure you can hear her. “They’re intoxicating!”

“Do they have anything strong?” You ask back, squinting at the liquor they have behind the counter. 

“It’s the Victory Spot!” She laughs, “Of course they do.” 

Cashmere stands on her tiptoes, even though she’s tall and there’s no need to make herself bigger, but then she leans on the counter. She reaches over, grabs a laminated paper, and then sets it down in front of you.

It’s a menu.

You squint through the darkness, reading the long list of finely printed drinks, until you find one that’s going to get the night started on the right foot. You place your finger beneath the name, and then look up to find the nearest bartender. Only, there’s already one hovering over you and Cashmere, she’s just waiting for you to order.

“I’ll take the carnivore.” You smile. “Will you add an extra shot? I don’t care which liquor.”

The bartender raises her eyebrows. “Are you sure? It’s pretty strong.”

“(Y/n) has a high tolerance.” Cashmere chips in, “You won’t be killing her.”

She closes her eyes, shaking her head as she backs off the counter. “If there is a funeral, don’t invite me.”

You let out a laugh, turning to face Cashmere while the drink is made. “So, what’s new in the world of District One?”

“The usual shit.” She rolls her eyes. “The mentors before Gloss and I are complaining about the lack of victors in our district recently. And they’re blaming it on our mentoring style, but none of them want to take over.” She shrugs. “Apparently we have appearances to upkeep.”

“There’s been a streak lately.” You wave your hand. “Since I won it’s been nothing but districts that haven’t seen a victor in a good couple years.”

“And I see nothing wrong with that.” Cashmere shrugs.

“Agreed.” You murmur, watching the pattern of flashing lights.

While the Hunger Games are supposed to be a competition between the districts, you’re not selfish enough to be disappointed that other districts are taking home their children. There’s plenty of anger to go around, of course, but it’s not aimed at the mentors around you. It’s directed at the Capitol.

“Here’s your cup of death.” A voice says behind you. 

You glance over your shoulder first to look at the drink the bartender has just made you, a smile coming over your face when you see the dark red color. You pull out your metal card that’s provided by the Capitol for your monthly allowance. Except, it’s pretty much useless in District Two because everything is handled in cash, but you can’t use cash here because they think it's dirty. 

And it’s outdated.

She takes the card from your fingers, and you watch as a brief wave of impression crosses her face, something you’re not unfamiliar to. The heavier the card, the wealthier you are. It’s not super common for Capitol citizens to have such a luxury.

You lift the glass, watching the cubes of ice dance inside. As soon as the liquor hits your tongue, you know you don't need another drink tonight. This will be enough to get you loose, but not inebriated enough to not get back to the Tribute Center. 

You take a larger sip, the bartender slides the card back to you.

“Taxi services are listed by the door.” She points to where you entered from.

“I like to walk.” You wink at her, and then you look at Cashmere. “Where to?”

“This way.” She cocks her head to the side, walking into the crowd of people. 

You follow behind her, not really paying attention to the bodies, or those who bump into you. There’s even a few hands that caress at your skin, desperate for the attention that you’ll never give. Not without a price, at least.

There’s a few high tops that are open on this side of the room. Cashmere chooses the one pressed against the wall, allowing you to pick your chair first. Out of habit, you slide onto the one that allows you to get a clear look at the door, in case anything were to happen. And since Cashmere has no preference, she happily slides into the seat across from you.

“Okay, I’m ready.” She says, swirling her glittery drink. “What has Finnick been saying about you this year?”

“We haven’t even been in the Capitol for three days and he’s been calling me names to all my regular sponsors.” You press your lips together. “I’ve been building up this clientele for years, I can’t afford to lose them, if I actually want to have a chance this year. He knows this.”

“He’s just upset because he thinks you’re taking his mentoring style, right?” She asks.

You let out a breath of air. “You mean the mentoring style that the Career districts have been doing since the beginning?” You ask back. “The original Career districts?”

She makes a face. “I still don’t understand how they’re a part of the pack.”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I don’t see how fish can be that great of a luxury but I’m not the one who lives here.” You raise your hands defensively. “All the times I’ve had it, it tastes as good as it smells.”

Cashmere smiles.

“Anyway, besides him calling me names, he’s also telling them that I don’t keep my promises and I never had. That’s why I haven’t been able to bring a tribute home.” You nod. “Because I’m just one big fraud—a scam artist. A wannabe.”

“A wannabe?” Cashmere repeats.

“That’s what I was told by one of the richer women.” You smile. bitterly “And then she went right back to ignoring me. I can’t talk sense into any of them now. It’s like they wanted to give me an explanation, just so they could stonewall me.”

You take a drink of the carnivore, getting a little enjoyment from the burn in your throat as it goes down.

“I would try, but we both know how that would end.”

“Yeah, there’s no point in getting us both blacklisted in the Capitol.” You agree. “I wish there was something I could do about it.”

“You could confront him.” Cashmere suggests with a shrug, taking a sip of her drink. “Set things straight.”

You snort, “The only way I know how to do that is with my fists, and something tells me that won’t go over well with President Snow.”

“Your fists?”

“Actions speak louder than words.” You smirk.

She shakes her head, staring down at the table for a couple of seconds. “Do you think roughing him up would actually work?”

“Are you kidding? I’d probably get crucified.” You sit back in your chair. “He’ll always be the Capitol favorite, I’m just a close second.” 

“Guess you’ll have to have a heart-to-heart with him.”

You mock a gag, pressing a fist to your mouth. “You think he has a heart? He’s knowingly taking sponsors away from innocent teenagers.”

“Innocent.” She laughs. “Our tributes are hardly that.”

“They are until they get their hands bloody.” You tell her. “They’re still children.”

For the next hour, you talk to Cashmere about your tributes becoming allies, their strengths and weaknesses, and the likeliness that they’ll end up pairing with the Four tributes—whether you like it or not. At the rate they’re currently going, they haven’t shown any interest in Finnick’s tributes, but that doesn’t mean they won’t change their minds later on.

Cashmere then offers to talk to her sponsors about teaming up with you, at least until your situation is sorted. You take her up on it, except you ask her not to go through with anything just yet. If it’s possible, you’d like to continue to use the people you’ve gotten to know these past couple years.

Which means that you need to have a conversation with Finnick at the first given chance.

The night ends early when one of the bartenders approaches your table and tells you that Cashmere’s escort is calling around to see where she’s at. As an apology for interrupting your conversation, he drops off two shots and then goes back to the bar.

Cashmere rolls her eyes, sliding off her seat. “I should get back, he’s been up my ass lately about making sure I’m present for mentoring. As if Gloss doesn’t attend everything.” She motions to the shots on the table. “Take mine for me, will you? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” You wave her off, she gives you a cheeky smile.

You watch her disappear into the sea of bodies, before you turn to the shots. With a shake of your head, you throw back the liquor, one after the other. You arrange the glasses neatly on the table before getting to your feet, straightening out your skirt.

It can’t be any later than midnight, and the place seems like it’s packed from wall to wall. You carefully navigate your way to the bar, figuring it’ll be easy to leave from there. The bartender that served you the carnivore earlier gives you a wave on your way out, and you lift your hand as a courtesy.

As soon as you step on to the colorful Capitol street, the warm July air kisses your skin, cooling you down. You stare down the block for a couple of seconds, enjoying the peace, before you have to go back to the Tribute Center and deal with your own version of crazy. 

You’re so sick of being bossed around by your escort, but you were warned by one of the stylists that if you keep intentionally screwing with her, then you were going to get in trouble. Apparently she’s already started the process of getting in contact with Snow, and she’s just waiting for an excuse to tell him everything.

You’re not really afraid of what will happen if she does tattle on you to the President, you think he would get your side of the story first before making any final decisions. It’s the fact that she’ll be smug after that’s making you hesitate. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction. 

After a minute or so, you turn to continue down the street, heading in the direction of the Tribute Center. It’s not that long of a walk, you’ll be there in less than fifteen minutes. Despite this, you’re sure that Cashmere will still call a taxi to get home, she was wearing a nice pair of heels.

You really don’t know what to do about this situation with Finnick. As nice as it would be to pull him aside and talk your feelings out, you’re not that type of person. When you suggested settling the situation with your hands, you were only partially kidding.

After everything he’s done to you these past couple of years, it would be well deserved. He’s got his head so far up his ass that he thinks you’re following his every move. When in reality, you’re just using the strategies that are being taught to you by the mentors in the past.

Lyme, especially.

If you do decide to throw him around, he has it coming, so you won’t entirely feel bad about it. The only issue is that you come from a family where fighting your problems out is the usual. He won’t be able to defend himself as easily. 

You’ll have to deal with the repercussions, though. Finnick is a Capitol favorite, he gets everything he wants from his team, and sometimes even the President. If you so much as leave a bruise on his golden skin, you’ll bet that they’ll have you replaced in the Capitol forever. You won’t be welcome back, and you’re not sure if you’re willing to give that up just yet.

Either way, you’ll have to figure it out soon. Preferably without the help of that idiot they sent you here with. If they were trying to piss you off, they did a great job of it. He’s notorious for leaving all the work to the female mentors so he can do all the schmoozing, but as soon as he heard of what was happening with the sponsors, he holed himself up in his room. 

Hopefully he stays there.

You take a shortcut through an alley that should lead you right to the front doors of the Tribute Center. The streets of the Capitol are safe, you never have to worry about some creep hanging around, only the workers of the shops. Even then, they’re not really that intrusive, they just want to get through the night so they can go home.

There’s no one here except for you.

About halfway through the alley, it gets incredibly dark because of a light that’s out above one of the doors. This doesn’t bother you, all you do is keep your eyes on the ground to avoid stepping on any trash that might have gotten flung by accident.

A sharp pain seizes your left forearm, so sudden and unexpected that you think someone has just stabbed you. Without a second thought, you throw your entire body into a punch behind you, but it catches nothing. Your momentum works against you, bringing you down to the pavement.

You collapse in a puddle of what you can only imagine is garbage juice. The little care you have for the integrity of your clothes is gone the moment the pain spreads in two different directions, the feeling of pins and needles stabbing at your arm. You clutch your skin in a tight grip, squeezing your eyes closed and rocking, wishing it would stop.

And it does.

You sit for a minute, taking some deep breaths while you carefully look over your arm, needing to know what happened. It doesn’t look like anything has changed, but there is a smudge of dirt that’s being stubborn. You leave it for now, you’ll scrub it off in the shower when you get back to the Two apartment.

As soon as you get back to your feet, your skirt suctions to your skin, as well as your nice shirt, which is most definitely ruined now. You let out an annoyed sigh, as you continue through the alley and back onto the main sidewalk. A street light illuminates where you stand, allowing you to get a clear look at your arm.

You hold it out, expecting to see mud, but you’re met with something much more permanent—a tattoo. What you had thought to be a mess of dirt on your arm, is actually a freshly carved tattoo, just beneath the inside of your elbow. You press your lips together at the sight of your irritated skin.

You have a soulmate, and either they can afford to get a tattoo in the districts, or they’re somewhere here in the Capitol. And judging by the handiwork, you think it’s the latter.

Before you can even give yourself a moment to wonder who might be on the other side of it, your feet begin to move. Right now, you need to get this cleaned if you don’t want it to get infected. You’ll have plenty of time to figure out who you’re meant to be with when you wake up tomorrow.

—

Copycat.

It’s what you’ve been called all day. From the moment you woke up and walked out of your bedroom, to just five minutes ago in the sponsorship room surrounded by Capitol people. It’s driving you up the wall, and it’s because of the mark on your arm.

“Copycat,” Hannes—your fellow District Two mentor—said as soon as his eyes found the tattoo on your arm. “Did you really get that last night?”

“Yes and no.” You told him, dragging your feet to the dining room table, where breakfast had been recently served. “Copycat?”

He raised his eyebrows, shaking his head. “What do you mean? Did you get it this morning?”

“No, I’ve been sleeping since I came back from the Victory Spot with Cashmere.”

Hannes squinted at you, not at all convinced. “You’re not a very good liar. Where’d you get it?”

“I’m not lying.” You told him. “I got it in an alleyway.”

He sputtered out a laugh, coming up the steps to get a closer look. “You got that in an alleyway? Who’d you have to pay to get that sort of intel?”

“What are you talking about?” You stared at him. “Intel on what?”

Hannes elongated his neck a little bit, trying to decipher if you were fucking with him or not, but you weren’t.

After a long pause, he said: “Finnick, obviously.”

“Hannes, what about Finnick?”

“He got the same exact tattoo last night. I was with him and Gloss at the tattoo shop on the corner. The one down the road from Sugar and Spice.”

In that moment, you felt all the blood run from your face, the expression on your face dropping completely. Finnick. Finnick got the same exact tattoo last night? Finnick is the one that you’re supposed to be with for the rest of your life? Is this some sort of joke?

“Did you not think anyone would notice?”

“Holy shit.” You murmured, sitting back in your chair.

“You’re a fucking copycat.”

“I’m not a copycat, you moron.” You snapped back. “Leave me alone.”

It couldn’t stop there, of course. When you got dressed for the sponsors, you tried to look nice by wearing a summery dress with a cute pair of wedges. Usually, you go for an expensive set, trying to look like you come from wealth, but you were hoping that if you took a page from Cashmere’s dress, then maybe it would be easier to get through to them.

Unfortunately, it did not work. In fact, you think you set yourself up for violence, because you practically got verbally assaulted by the Capitol people that hang around Finnick the most. You have thick skin, so nothing they could say would ever get you riled up, but it kept coming.

And then it began to encourage the people around them. By the time Cashmere and Gloss were finally arriving, you were fuming. Your skin was hot to the touch, and you were grinding your teeth.

“You look like you want to kill someone.” Cashmere told you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Why are you so warm?”

“Is that a tattoo on your arm?” Gloss asked without giving you a chance to answer his sister first. “Wait—”

“I did not get this tattooed last night.” You told him, steely eyes encapsulating him into a stare down, challenging him to call you some form of a copycat.

“Well, how could you? You went right home after the bar, right?” Cashmere asked, reaching to grab your arm to get a better look.

Gloss had a question on his tongue, eyes wide as he looked between the mark on your arm and your face. He knew that if he said the wrong thing, he would immediately get reamed, forcing him to reconsider his words carefully.

And you knew that he already knew who else had just gotten that tattoo on their body.

“Yes, I did. I even took a shortcut through an alley to get to the building quicker.” You told her through tight teeth.

Gloss opened his mouth, taking in a breath of air, and then it hitched. He changed his mind, not quite ready to ask you.

“So… this morning?” Cashmere asked, not paying attention to her brother. “When did you have time?”

“I haven’t.” You finally looked at her. “I did not get this last night or this morning.”

Gloss swallowed. “You know, Finnick was at a tattoo shop with Hannes and I last night.” He started slowly, testing the water.

“Oh, I’m fully aware. Hannes told me this morning, and I’ve been getting an earful from these assholes all afternoon.”

He pressed his lips together. “I don’t know what to say right now, because all I’m coming up with are ways that will get you pissed off more than you already are.”

“I am not a copycat.” You told him, then looked at Cashmere. “I got it in that alleyway last night.”

Her brow furrowed, eyes narrowing while she stared at you, trying to figure out what you were trying to subtly tell her. “Okay…?”

“Finnick has the same tattoo, Cash.” Gloss nudged her a little. “I watched him get it.”

Her eyes bounced down to what’s been permanently etched into your skin. “Soulmate mark?” She asked, her tone slightly hopeful.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You told her, “And now I have no choice but to talk it out with him.”

“You’ll be able to catch him tonight.” Gloss told you. “He’s free, he has no plans.”

“Good, because we need to settle this.”

After this, you went back to the apartment to change into something more casual, tired of appearances. You settled on a pair of jeans, sneakers and a long-sleeved shirt that would cover the damn thing. However, when you got to the sponsorship room to be with Cashmere and Gloss, it was infuriating.

It was like you became a zoo animal. Once word got out that you had gotten a tattoo exactly like Finnick’s, less than twenty-four hours from when he got it, everyone had to come and see. And while it did get incredibly busy, and it would’ve been perfect for networking—all people wanted to do was see the tattoo and ask you if you were proud of yourself. Or if you had a hard time being your own individual.

Which is rich coming from a group of people who talk, walk and dress the same. They have one collective mind and it’s controlled by the President, but it’s not like you could say that to them. 

So, you gave up for the evening and you’ve spent the rest of the night stewing in your room, waiting for everyone to go to bed so you can leave. As you step into the elevator, you jab your thumb into the four button on the box. The doors slowly slide shut, and then you’re sent a few floors up.

From what you understand, all the floor layouts for the Tribute Center are the same, so it should be relatively easy to get around. When the elevator stops, the doors open, revealing a differently decorated apartment. It’s incredibly cliche, with the seashells and sand vases with ocean paintings on the wall.

Something moves in the darkness, you step forward to place your hand on the doors to keep them from trying to close. You don’t move further than that, waiting to see who it is that’s in the living space. If it’s Lynnea—or whatever the girl mentor’s name is—you’ll have to come up with some lame excuse and go back down.

A low laugh interrupts the silence, as the person barely comes into sight. It’s Finnick, and he’s got this smug look on his face. You hate smug people.

“Well, look who it is.” He says slowly, you step out of the elevator. The doors close immediately, blocking off the light. But he’s prepared for this, because he reaches to the nearest table to flick on the lamp. “Come to scope me out and see what else you should steal from me? A tattoo wasn’t enough?”

“Are you stupid?” You shoot back, it comes out harsher than you mean for it to. “Genuinely. I thought that you had to be smart, considering your strategies, but you have to lack some common sense.”

“I’m stupid? The least you could try to do is be subtle.” He motions to your arm. “Nowhere else? In the exact same spot as me? I thought Hannes was kidding when he told me.” He shakes his head. “You had to be stalking me in order to get it that quick, and then you went to some alleyway artist to protect their identity? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You think I care about your life that much?” You laugh a little. “You don’t think it’s strange that I happened to get it the same night you did?”

“I figured it was a form of dedication.” He shrugs. “It wouldn’t be the first time you tried to follow in my footsteps.”

You open your mouth to correct him, but you remind yourself that you can’t get sidetracked. “It appeared on my arm.”

Finnick’s face twists, as if you’re trying to feed him a spoon of shit. “Tattoos don’t just appear on your arm. How fucking stupid do you think I am?”

You don’t take the bait. “They do in some cases.” You tell him, not wanting to outright give him the answer.

Honestly, it’s not like you really hate Finnick and the thought of being connected to him makes you sick. It’s because you want him to feel stupid for how he’s been treating you these past few years—especially this year. 

You don’t really care about him, usually you can stomach and brush off what he has to say, and the shenanigans he’s up to. You’re actually pretty similar in most ways, which is why his behavior doesn’t get to you. You have the same fashion taste, mentoring style, arena strategies, and more. And you only considered this to be a coincidence until recently.

It clicked in your mind this afternoon while you were changing. All the pieces have fallen into place since. You’ve always been drawn to each other, whether you liked it or not. It might’ve been romantic or friendly from the beginning if Finnick hadn’t already hated your guts. Instead, it just turned you into competitors.

“Like what?” Finnick asks, still actively being combative.

“Take a second and think about it.” You tell him, leaning against the wall. “I’ll even give you a hint; we have the rest of our lives to figure it out.”

The creases in his forehead get more defined while he turns your words over in his head. It doesn’t take long for him to realize what you’re telling him. His eyes dart to his forearm, where he rubs the tattoo on his skin, lips pressed together in a thin line. Then his arm drops. 

“We’re soulmates.”

“It explains everything, doesn’t it?” You ask him.

“Yeah, actually.” He looks up from the floor. “How long have you known?”

“I knew it was a soulmate mark when it appeared on my arm after the bar last night, but it was Hannes that actually indirectly told me it was you.”

He lets out a hiss. “This will be a hard one to explain to the Capitol.”

You shrug. “Tell them the truth, or don’t. Either way, I want my sponsors back.” You raise your eyebrows. “It’s unfair to turn them against me like that, especially since they’re not for me, they’re for my tributes.”

“That was Lynnea.” Finnick shakes his head. “She wanted them to come to us, instead. I’ll have a talk with them to make sure we set things straight.”

“You can’t blame it on Lynnea. Everyone has told me that you called me a wannabe.”

Finnick’s face twists. “Do I look like I call people wannabe’s?”

You squint at him. “Fine, I’ll let that go. Just tell Lynnea that if she wants to go home with a black eye, that’s the way to do it.” You press the button on the wall, and the elevator opens right back up. You step on, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Hey,” Finnick takes a step forward, you block the doors that have begun to close. “What are we going to do about this?” He asks, showing you the tattoo on his arm. “We live in two different districts.”

You stare at him for a couple of seconds, “I’m in no hurry to find out. It’s not like we don’t see each other every year for a month at a time.”

Finnick nods a little bit. “Goodnight, (Y/n). I’m sorry.”

“You’ll make it up to me.” You give him a cheeky smile, moving your hand away from the elevator door. “Goodnight, Finnick.”

[batmanlovesnirvana]

Maybe you should just block me since you’re clearly you’re talking about my fic.

I used the x reader tag because it started as one before I decided to rewrite it with more North African/Middle Eastern representation—something fandom desperately lacks, along with addressing the racism that often accompanies it.

I’ve made a conscious effort to keep descriptions minimal for inclusivity, so if that doesn’t fit your narrow expectations, that’s on you.

Maryam means a lot to me, both as an immigrant and as a woman of color. As a Muslim, too, especially in the current climate where we're constantly navigating prejudice, stereotypes, and discrimination. There's so much negativity around us, both in the real world and online. It's hard to feel seen or understood, especially when you're already carrying so much weight.

She’s kind of a love letter to anyone who sees pieces of themselves in her, because that’s the whole point—she’s meant to be you.

Fandoms were supposed to be a refuge—a place to connect with others who share your passion, to feel safe and accepted—but too often, they become spaces where that very sense of belonging is challenged. It's heartbreaking when something that's meant to bring joy and solidarity feels like it only amplifies the hurt.

I’m an amateur writer sharing my fanfiction for free—because I love writing and enjoy seeing others enjoy it—but also hoping to get noticed, not for the attention, but for the feedback. I thrive on seeing others engage with my work. If I don’t promote it, nobody will see it, and then I’ll lose my motivation.

If I don’t promote my work, I’m not doing my job. Simple as that.

Next time, just scroll past and save us both the drama—or, you know, there’s this thing called filtering in your settings.

But considering how many times you’ve reblogged it, pinned it, and stirred up others, I may as well delete it—since it clearly bothers both you and them that much.

Honestly, it really hurts me to see all this bad attention over something I created to share and enjoy. It’s just so upsetting, I’m genuinely thinking about taking it down.

— نور

tags for the readers of the fic : @gaypoetsblog @faeryki @rattyfishrock

me when i see an x oc fic, but it has an x reader tag:

im sorry, do i look like a maryam to you?

[scary-grace]

Off-Script (Act 3) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Tomura's been Dabi's stunt double for almost a decade, and he's not easily impressed, but when he squares up with you for a fight scene, he finds himself caught off-guard in more ways than one. As the shoot progresses and sparks fly between the two of you, Tomura has to decide if you're worth the risk -- or if the best sparring partner he's ever had is all you'll ever be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Act 1 Act 2

Act 3

The party’s in full swing, and even though you’ve been here for an hour at most, Tomura’s already ready to kill Spinner for forcing him to invite you. You’re the only actor at the party. Everyone keeps asking you why you aren’t at the other party, and Tomura’s getting really sick of listening to you explain that you aren’t important enough to go to that one. Once it’s been established that you’re a nobody like the rest of them, one of two things happens. If the person you’re talking to is a woman, they ask you about the fight scene you filmed with Tomura. If you’re talking to a guy, he asks you to dance – and you say yes.

Tomura thought you’d dance with him, since he’s the one who invited you. He made the mistake of saying that to Magne, who switched out the beer in his hand for the double Malibu shot she was holding and told him that unless he’d asked you to go to the party with him specifically, he hadn’t asked you out. Then Twice came by, stole Tomura’s Malibu shot and replaced it with a Long Island Iced Tea, and informed him that just because you play a mind reader in a movie doesn’t mean you can do it in real life.

Tomura threw down half the Long Island in one swallow and almost gagged. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“She’s not gonna know you want to dance with her unless you ask her to dance,” Twice said. Magne nodded sagely. “So ask her to dance. Or – do that, I guess! That works too!”

Tomura had just finished off the rest of the Long Island. Twice patted him on the pack and he almost threw up. “Go get ‘em, Shigaraki! Or go home!”

Tomura thought about going home. Then he decided that he wanted to be drunker first, so he went back to the makeshift bar for something a little less instantly neurotoxic. But that hit pretty fast, too, and it hit hard enough that Tomura decided to sit down rather than try to walk to the shuttle stop and pass out on the way. So that’s what he’s been doing instead of dancing or talking or even drinking more. Sitting on a rock and watching the only actor at the party make herself at home.

Spinner sits down on the rock next to Tomura. Tomura tries to shove him off. “No. Go away.”

Spinner gets comfortable. “Heard anything from Dabi yet?”

Tomura fumbles his phone out of his pocket to check. “Nothing. He’s going to text you, not me. You’re the nice one.”

“Not hard to be, when you’re the one saying shit like I don’t care about this,” Spinner says. Tomura rolls his eyes and gets dizzy. “Look, it was – not great – when you were just being a dick to her. Now you’re being a dick to everybody.”

“It’s your fault for making me invite her.”

“Nope,” Spinner says. “You’ve been in a shitty mood about this since you guys filmed that scene. We all think you should just –”

“Ladies, and those of you who are not ladies, eyes up front!”  Yamada’s in Present Mic mode, which gives Tomura a headache on his best day. “It’s been brought to my attention that everyone is now sufficiently wasted enough for us to begin – drumroll! – the karaoke contest! Who’s up first!”

Nobody wants to be up first, like usual. The first round of the karaoke contest is usually just people bullying their friends onto the stage. Tomura turns to glare at Spinner. “If you even think about it –”

“I wouldn’t do that to you!” Spinner actually looks insulted. “We’re best friends, not mortal enemies!”

“Since you all are being shy, I’m going to pick a volunteer,” Present Mic announces. It’s not volunteering if somebody makes you do it. “And I’m picking somebody who has the pipes for this for sure! Give it up for Jiro Kyoka, who’s going to give us her best Dolly Parton impression on Jolene!”

Jiro smacks Present Mic on her way up to the makeshift stage, and he’s apologizing right up until the music starts. Tomura doesn’t know why, and neither does Spinner, but Jiro’s a good singer even when she’s had a few. The next person who goes up is Mirio, who’s tone-deaf on zero drinks but has had enough to volunteer himself. Attention grabs aren’t really Tomura’s thing – he’d prefer to go unnoticed most of the time – but he knows why the crew gets so into it. They spend all day doing ridiculous amounts of work, only for the actors to get all the credit if the movie does well. If they want to clown around, he’s not going to blame them.

“Room for one more?”

Tomura jumps and so does Spinner. It’s you, holding a water bottle and looking sort of tired. “Go for it,” Spinner says, shoving Tomura to the side and scooting away himself. “Right there.”

You sit down next to Tomura. Tomura hasn’t said a word to you since you got here. He looks around for something to say and comes up with something stupid. “You don’t want to show everybody up at karaoke?”

“If Yamada calls on me I’ll go up,” you say. “If he doesn’t, I’d just look like an asshole for grabbing the spotlight.”

“Isn’t that all actors do? Grab the spotlight?”

“Do you actually want it?” you ask Tomura. Tomura blinks. “You and the other stunt guys are closer to the spotlight than anybody else here. Why stay out of it?”

“That’s the stupidest question anyone’s ever asked me.” Tomura thinks that’s probably an overstatement, but he’s also on the not-fun side of drunk, so he’s giving himself a pass. “Why do you think?”

“So you’re telling me that if I waved a magic wand and changed your face to whatever you think it’s supposed to look like, you’d suddenly want to be famous?”

Tomura should have been paying less attention to who you were dancing with and more to what you were drinking, because while he’s pretty trashed, you’re sober. He’s miscalculated, big-time. “It’s not a trick question,” you say. “I just want to know why you pick on people for chasing something that you don’t even want.”

“Because it’s a waste of time for most of you,” Tomura says. Spinner protests, but Tomura ignores him. You came over here. You started it. “For every big star there’s a thousand people paying union dues who will be extras for their entire careers. How long do you plan on hanging out waiting for a big break that’s not going to happen? Find something else to do that’s – not that – and stop running around getting all starry-eyed. It’s pathetic. Sue me for being annoyed.”

Silence falls. “I’m getting another drink,” Spinner says. “Want anything, Psylocke?”

You shake your head. “I want one,” Tomura says, but Spinner ignores him. Like it’s his fault, somehow, when inviting you was Spinner’s idea in the first place. You haven’t said anything yet. Tomura replays what he just said to you, and guilt strikes him like a sandbag to the back of the head. “Uh –”

“Did you ever think it’s because we love it?”

“Huh?”

“If I was doing this to be famous, I’d have quit a long time ago,” you say. You pass your water bottle to Tomura and lean back on your hands, head tipped to look up at the sky. “Most of us aren’t stupid, or naïve. We know what our odds are like. Making it on the acting side – theatre, movies, TV, whatever – takes getting lucky. Or it takes knowing somebody who knows somebody who owes your mom a favor.”

That’s how Dabi got into it. His dad’s rich, his dad owns a production company, and his dad got him a bit part in some spy movie when he was thirteen that launched his entire career. Dabi’s career is Tomura’s career, so Tomura doesn’t bitch about it. Besides, Dabi’s good at it. But lots of people are good at it. Being good at it doesn’t mean shit, even when it should.

“I know it’s not going to happen,” you say. “Getting steady work is an achievement all on its own, and even that doesn’t pay the greatest. I could make more money doing almost anything else. But I really like what I do. The win for me is getting to do the thing I love every day.”

Tomura tries to wrap his head around that one. It doesn’t work. “Actors want to be famous. That’s why they’re actors.”

“There are other ways to get famous,” you point out. “Do the right kind of porn and you’ll get famous in a hurry.”

Tomura nearly chokes on thin air. “If I wanted money, I’d do something else. If I wanted fame, I’d do something else,” you say. “That leaves you two possible answers. Either I’m really stupid, or I really love what I’m doing. What do you think it is?”

“You’re not stupid,” Tomura says, still coughing. He twists the cap off the water bottle and sucks down a few swallows. “Except maybe for sitting here and putting up with my shit.”

“I’m still trying to figure out what I did to piss you off.” You take the water bottle – your water bottle, Tomura remembers too late – and take a few sips before handing it back. “Is it really just that I’m new?”

“No.” Tomura can’t even remember why. No, he can. “It wasn’t you at first. It was supposed to be Dabi’s fight and he made me do it instead, so I was pissed. And you wouldn’t take the stupid compliment, so I was pissed about that, too.”

“And right now?”

“Who said I’m pissed at you right now?”

“You, five minutes ago, when you were calling me and ninety percent of the actors in the world stupid and naïve,” you say. “What did I do this time?”

Even though Tomura’s starting to sober up, the alcohol smacks him one last time, and it’s a critical hit. “Danced with everybody but me.”

It’s quiet for a second. Then you get to your feet in a smooth, fluid motion that Tomura probably can’t even accomplish sober. “Okay. Now I need that drink.”

You don’t invite Tomura to come with you, but he follows you anyway as you make your way back towards the party. Partway there you stop and he walks into you. You twist around to face him. “You’re mad because I didn’t dance with you? You didn’t ask.”

“I asked you to the party with me, didn’t I?” The sooner Tomura finds something to lean against, the better. He might be sober enough to know he fucked up, but he’s still pretty drunk. Not drunk enough to forget what Magne told him. “If this is just because I didn’t use the exact words –”

“No, it’s because you’ve spent the last two weeks acting like you hate me,” you say. Tomura wants to say you’re exaggerating, but given that Toga and Spinner both called him out, he can’t really say that or anything else. “Now you want to dance? What am I supposed to do with that except get trashed?”

At least now you’re both on the same subject. “Dance.”

“Do you even dance?” You give Tomura a skeptical look. “I don’t know if you can keep up with me.”

Maybe this is how you felt when Tomura acted like you couldn’t swordfight. “I can dance. I was going to go easy on you –”

“Oh, shut up.” You grab Tomura’s hand and pull him towards the dance floor. Tomura barely has time to ditch the empty water bottle before the crowd closes ranks around the two of you, locking you in.

Tomura knows how to dance. More accurately, sober Tomura knows how not to dance, and avoiding that looks enough like knowing how to dance that he can get by. But that’s when he’s sober. When he’s drunk and there’s someone who clearly knows what they’re doing standing in front of him, he’s got absolutely nowhere to hide.

He studies you, trying to see if he can copy your moves, but you don’t really have distinct moves. What you’ve got is pinpoint control over every part of your body, which is what Tomura has, except instead of using it to make it look real when you have to fake getting shot, you’re using it to make dancing look like it’s what you were designed to do. He’d never know you dislocated a rib today if he hadn’t seen the bruise. All he can see is how your moves match the music, how confident you look. It’s hot. Tomura doesn’t think you’re trying to be hot, but he’s still not sober, and he’s paying way too much attention to everything your hips and your ass are doing. He’s supposed to be dancing, too. How is he supposed to look away from that?

Someone bumps into him, and he stumbles forward a few steps, right into your personal space. It doesn’t throw you off even slightly. “I was wondering when you were going to join in,” you say, barely audible over the music. Probably only audible because you’re pressed up against him and your mouth’s barely brushing his ear. “Is this you going easy on me?”

Tomura thinks he could be the best dancer on the planet and he still wouldn’t be able to compete with you. His hands come up of their own accord and settle on your waist, like the two of you are slow-dancing at a junior prom, completely out of sync with the music. You laugh, quiet and dark, but you wrap your arms around Tomura’s neck and rise on your toes to whisper in his ear again. “Pretend we’re fighting.”

You were just fighting. Weren’t you? It takes Tomura a second, but once he gets it, he gets it, along with a rush of adrenaline that’s absolutely insane. He pulls you in tight against him and you lean in, lining your body up with his centimeter by centimeter, limb by limb. One of your arms peels away from around his neck and traces down along the line of his shoulder, and Tomura raises his arm to match, ready to catch your hand by the time you reach his wrist.

Once he takes it, you spin out and away from him, like the two of you are ballroom dancing or some shit. But you come back closer than before, your back pressed to Tomura’s chest, leaning against him. Still holding his hand.

The handholding is fucking with Tomura’s head. He lets go and wraps both arms around your waist, and you twist in his grip to face him, a moment before tipping sideways on purpose. Tomura knew you were going to do it. He felt you telegraph it, the same as you did during the fight scene, and he’s ready to catch you. It looks like you’re ballroom dancing – again – and Tomura’s friends are probably losing their shit watching it, if they’re watching – but you trust Tomura to catch you, and he does.

He sees a smile cross your face before he pulls you back up, and you instantly tip the other way. He’s not as ready for that one, but it doesn’t matter as much, because you’re hooked one leg over his hip and caught yourself.

It’s like you want to break Tomura’s brain. Fuck it. If you’re fighting, he can fight back. He wraps one hand around your back to help you up, but he catches the crook of your knee with his other hand and pulls you tight against him. He feels you startle; then you lean into him again, not quite grinding on him but close enough that his cock doesn’t notice a difference. Or it wouldn’t, if Tomura hadn’t drunk so much earlier. He’s never been so thankful for whiskey dick in his life.

He doesn’t let go of your leg, and you don’t pull away. You wrap your arms around Tomura’s neck again and you tilt your head, studying him, your gaze flicking downwards, then back up. Tomura’s pretty sure you were looking at his mouth, and with your head tilted like that – do you want him to kiss you? Is that why you’re looking at him like that? If he’s reading this wrong, he’s going to fuck everything up, whether he kisses you or not. So he might as well get one kiss in. Tomura squares his shoulders beneath your hands and leans in.

“Hey!”

It’s possible that Tomura’s never been as pissed off at anybody as he is at Spinner right now. Spinner’s standing right there, looking sort of panicked, and you pull away from Tomura instantly, clearly embarrassed. “What?” Tomura shouts at Spinner. It’s lucky that the music’s loud. He can get away with shouting. “What the fuck is –”

Spinner holds up his phone, the screen brightness cranked to maximum. Dabi’s texted – both of them, only Tomura didn’t notice, because he was with you. get me the fuck out of here right now

Shit. Spinner turns and heads off the dance floor, and Tomura follows him. He grabs your hand on the way, so you won’t think he’s ditching you completely, and instead of pulling away, you come along. Once the three of you are clear of the dancers, Spinner turns to Tomura. “If he texted us, that means it’s bad,” he states. Tomura’s not going to argue. “I’m too drunk to drive.”

“So am I,” Tomura says. For a little while longer at least. “If we wait fifteen minutes or something –”

“He said right now,” Spinner says. “It’ll take fifteen minutes at least to get there. He fucked himself over in thirty seconds last time.”

Thirty seconds is generous. Dabi’s managed to get himself into cops-calling trouble in fifteen seconds or less before. Tomura didn’t want to be involved in Dabi’s sobriety, but he didn’t want to fuck him over, either, and this qualifies. That’s not even mentioning what’s going to happen to his career if Dabi drops out of this movie. “We blew it,” Spinner says, his face ashen. “He’s never going to forgive us –”

You tug lightly at Tomura’s hand. “I can drive.”

Tomura looks at you. So does Spinner. “I don’t know what’s going on here,” you say, “but I can tell it’s urgent. I don’t need to know what’s going on to be your designated driver.”

“You didn’t drink?” Spinner asks. You shake your head. “Great. Can you drive stick?”

[peachhcs]

the new guy | the wonder years

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

will finds out about samy's new boyfriend kevin after thinking there might be a chance for them after they kissing at her senior year kickoff party

wc: 1.7k

cooked this up because 1. i love wonder years and 2. i don’t think i’ve ever written everyone meeting kevin for the first time (i’m also running out of pics so im resorting to gifs lol)

au masterlist

it was a typical friday night for the boys. they raced home after their game to change and make it to samy's first soccer game of the season that started promptly at 7. their goal this season was to make to every single one of her games that didn't coincide with their own games. ryan's mom's suv was definitely going to be put to good use.

the seven of them piled in and were on the road by 6:15 which was record time for them considering their game just finished at 5:30. will was feeling a bit giddy tonight. he had a great game with two goals and an assist and now he was about to see samy for the first time since last weekend. he was still thinking about that drunken kiss they shared.

he knew they were just playing with one another like back in april during that seven minutes in heaven, but will couldn't help thinking that maybe it meant something more this time. it'd been on his mind since last weekend when it happened and the boy started wondering��what exactly the relationship he had with the girl was. they were friends, yeah, but..could there be a possibility for something more?

will's never really thought of her that way. maybe that one time when they were twelve, but that didn't count because they were twelve. all he knew was that she'd been on his mind a lot more recently and he started wondering what it meant or if it was even normal to be thinking of his best friend that much? surely it was because he thought of all the guys in the car with him a fair amount. either way, will was excited to see her.

they pulled into the already full lot exactly fifteen minutes before kick off. gabe was texting marcie and riley asking where they were sitting as they walked towards the bleachers. they spotted the two girls in the student section and quickly joined them.

"i'm surprised you guys made it in time," marcie teased and made room for the seven of them.

"you should've seen will barking us around. he was not playing around," ryan teases the blonde who flushed. he scanned the field for samy.

she was by the bench talking with some of the girls. her captain band was wrapped proudly around the top of her shin before her socks started. will knew how hard samy worked for that honor this season and he was proud of her for finally being able to show it off and lead the girls to another successful season in her last year.

"this should be an easy sweep. central michigan has always had a shitty defense," marcie mumbled as the boys' gazes swept over to the other team warming up.

will's gaze followed the other students in the stands. he recognized some of them from the parties samy dragged him to. being in the student section really made the boys feel like they were in high school which was another reason why they wanted to go to the games because they got to experience high school traditions the dev program didn't give them.

samy finally waved up at the stands to the boys who eagerly waved back at her. will smiled widely when he caught her gaze. he watched her gaze fall to the other side to wave at her parents and then the next person she waved at caught him off guard.

it was a guy with brunette hair about three rows down from them. he was taller and stood with some friends that looked to be on the boy's soccer team. samy was smiling widely at him and will's stomach twisted seeing her wave at him.

but he tried to not think about it too much. maybe he was just  a friend? yeah, a friend. she could have friends. will was thinking about this too much.

the game was a clean sweep like marcie said. samy's team scored three goals, one of them being from samy and she assisted the other two. the students cheered for them as they ran up to the bleachers to give out high-fives before running back to the benches. the students began filing out of the bleachers to meet the players in the parking lot after their post game debrief.

the boys talked with marcie and riley waiting for samy to come out. her parents joined them a second later where ellen and jim happily greeted them and thanked them for coming. will was too immersed in his conversation with drew and aram that he didn't see samy come out and turn her attention to the boy she waved to before the game started.

she greeted him with a warm hug and blushed when he gave her flowers. will didn't see them coming until gabe nudged his shoulder and marcie ran to hug her best friend.

"you played so well!" the girl exclaimed making samy flush.

"thanks for coming guys. i didn't actually think you'd make it on time," the soccer player said the the boys.

"thank will. he got us moving," ryan clapped his friend's shoulder. the blonde smiled softly at her. she returned it before directing her gaze back to the boy will saw earlier.

he quickly noticed the flowers in her hand and the shy expressions on both of their faces. that twist in will's stomach quickly returned as he put the pieces together.

"there's someone i want you guys to meet. this is kevin," samy introduced him and he shyly waved at everyone.

for a second, everyone looked at will while the blonde had a blank expression on his face. the excitement he had earlier started fading as he realized what this meant.

"nice to meet you. we're samy's hockey friends," ryan finally said and held his hand out. he was always the one to break the ice first. kevin shook his hand.

"good to meet you guys. samy talks highly of all of you," kevin chuckled.

will struggled to meet samy's gaze that he knew was on him because she was searching for his approval. he didn't really know what to think.

it was dumb to think that maybe he had a chance with her. samy was right. those two kisses were just for fun because they were drunk half the time anyway. it didn't mean anything and will shouldn't have thought it did. he swallowed and sucked up his pride.

"didn't know samy had a new fling," drew chirped up with a small, teasing smirk.

"we've been talking for a few weeks," the girl giggled and then will's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. a few weeks? she's been talking to this guy a few weeks and they still made out in her friend's bathroom last weekend. were they even official then?

"we've been keeping it on the down low until making it official a few days ago," kevin slung his arm around her shoulders.

will found gabe's gaze beside him. the dark-haired boy spoke with his eyes like he knew exactly what will was thinking. gabe didn't really know about the drunk make-outs will and samy have done, but he could probably take a guess. it was fairly obvious whenever the two came back out of the bathroom. all gabe did was place a hand on his friend's shoulder and offered a tight-lipped smile to the new guy in front of them.

"well, it's nice to meet you, kevin. hopefully we'll see you around more," gabe said.

"we're gonna head out, but thanks a lot for coming guys. i always like seeing you guys up there," samy grinned and walked back through the parking lot with kevin.

ellen and jim wished the others goodbye and safe travels back to plymouth. the boys glanced between one another.

"sorry i didn't mention anything. samy wanted to like..surprise you guys," marcie said and looked at will. everyone seemed to be looking at will.

"it's fine. he seems cool," the blonde finally said.

"i know you guys are..and we tease you guys about.."

"no, we're just friends, you know that. all of that doesn't mean anything to us," will cut marcie off, managing his best smile. the others exchanged quick glances before deciding to let it go for now. they said goodbye to marcie and riley before climbing back into ryan's suv to head back.

the car ride was a bit silent. will stared out the window suddenly rethinking everything. he should've known him and samy's relationship would just be a friendship and nothing more than that. it was stupid of him to even think otherwise. they hardly even talked too. usually, samy would be all over him after the game and wanted to talk until they had to leave.

she just left without even saying a word to him really. that did kind of hurt.

ryan dropped everyone back off at their houses. the two boys walked back into the house in silence. ryan didn't want to prod, but he's also never seen will so quiet before.

"look, i know it's not my business, but are you good?" the brunette raised his eyebrow when they were away from the prying ears of their moms.

"i'm fine, why?" will didn't meet his gaze.

"you're just weirdly quiet," ryan mumbled.

"i'm fine. it's nothing," the blonde shrugged and as much as ryan hated prying, he kept talking.

"look, i know the teasing we make at you is all in good fun about samy, but..i didn't know she was talking to someone. i'm sorry."

"why are you sorry? it's not like we were like together or liked each other," will said quickly and ryan gave him a look that both of them knew the blonde was not telling the full truth or at least that ryan saw right through him.

"right, yeah," the brunette mumbled. they left the conversation at that because ryan wasn't gonna poke anymore. will was left to think about ryan's words and what exactly they meant to him because surely, he didn't actually like samy like that.

right?

[sqh3e]

quiet nights, l.sh

warnings : fluff, suggestive.. if you squint?, sohee is needy but in a cute way — soft hours ★ bf!sohee x reader

word count: 345 (not proofread sorry)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

this was the first night in awhile you and sohee were both home, sohee would spend most of his time playing the game but tonight it was you on your nintendo switch playing minecraft curled up in your shared bed. sohee was pouty cause he just wanted to be under you but you were already preoccupied.

“love,” he pouted “put the console down and love me.” you laughed your attention still on the switch, he sighed. he needed a plan and a good one to win his girl over, not that he needed to be extra but he wanted to be dramatic. he climbed out of the bed and headed towards the kitchen he knew that if you heard him in the kitchen moving around eventually you’d come in there.

sohee opened the pantry door looking through all the snacks you both had, he noticed those strawberry gummies you liked that he bought you a few days ago. he grabbed them, closed the pantry door and walked back into the room since you didn’t get up to join him in the kitchen. he plopped down onto the bed with a loud dramatic sigh, you let out a small chuckle finally deciding to play along with him.

“yes lovely?” you ask him turning off your console setting it on the night stand. “are you finally ready to give your poor lovely attention…?” he pouted, “hmm, i don’t think i am.” you teased turning facing in his direction and he whined. “look what i found in the pantr-“ sohee lifted up the gummy strawberries but was cut off but you snatching them from him.

“hey! these are mine, i’ve been saving them why do you have them??” you spoke. “cause i want you to pay attention to me but you were to occupied by the console.” he whined and you ruffle his hair “does my baby need attention?” you pout and he lays his head in your lap.

“yes i do.” you gently squeeze his cheek, “fine, talk to me tell me what you do all day.”

authors notes: i really miss my love sohee omg 😭 UGH FIX MY RIIZE RIGHT NOW! masters list coming soon! so is my about me- i’ve been busy and haven’t really gotten a chance to finish it :D working on a mini series so please look forward to that ;) also!! the tws comforting you after a bad day is coming i’ve just been super busy so i do apologize 🙏

perm taglist (open) : requests (open)

© sqh3e

[deadpool15]

Delicate Flower

Warning ‼️-Sexual encounters, Penetrative sex, fem receiving oral, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Overstimulation, Squirting, creampie

“Wait sooo, why are you telling me this?” Hyunjin asked while staring wide eyed at Seungmin. The conversation at there usual boys night for the members ventured off to a completely different topic after one too many shots were taken. “Well, I wasn’t necessarily telling you I was just speaking out loud with you in the room to be honest, you having large ears is your own responsibility.” The slick remark catching Hyun so off guard he just stares in silence. “When did she tell you anyways, you two aren’t that close?” Min smiled at the question seeking to tease his member about the situation, “we are actually very close, she was just simply telling me about her life and what not. Then, she just spilled that she is a virgin, I was shocked but I let it go unlike you seem to be able to right now”.

Few weeks later….

I couldn’t get it out of my head, Lily was a virgin. I don’t know why it shocked me considering how she is with anything sexual. Looking back I started to realize the differences in her attitude whenever sexual encounters were brought up, she wouldn’t completely shut down of course. Though, it seems she was always brush it off and manage to flip the conversation around to another person. Never thinking too much of it in the moment. Not even noticing it. I felt bad about the whole thing, now that I knew it’s as if my mind wouldn’t let it go. Whenever, I would see Lily I felt wrong. She was so innocent and probably didn’t even know who to do certain things and all my brain could think about was being the one and only person to teach her.

It started off as little things nothing major. Seeing her around the company and using any excuse to leave. But rehearsing could only get me so far especially since she was friends with all the members. Then, it got worse I started having dreams about her.

Moving around in bed I notice my room lap is on, “could’ve sworn I turned that off”. I reach over my bedside to turn it off yet again in my mind until I take notice of Lily. In my room. That’s never happened before. “Hyun, sorry I was waiting for you to wake up, we were supposed to meet the members. I was closer to the dorm so I suggested to come get you but you were sleeping. Didn’t wanna wake you.” Looking at her she was dressed in a babydoll nightie. She loved those, though I can truthfully say not nearly as much as me. She always looked so delicate in them, as if she was waiting for someone to taint that perfect little imagine of her. “You know, you talk in your sleep, not fully but I could make out what you were saying.” Hearing that I froze.

There was no way this was happening right now, she isn’t here. “You want to have sex with me Hyun, that’s really dirty of you. I’m like your best friend. Chan thinks of me as a little sister, I thought you did as well. But you’re just a disgusting pervert. Right, Hyun?” The fucked up part about this was seeing her like that in that outfit was making this worse. I wanted to completely defile her. Only to put the pieces back together afterwards. Reaching out to grab her waist, she was always so soft. “I’m not a pervert, Lily bear. You’re just- something special to me.” She looks up at me with those big eyes and I can only imagine how they will look while she is choking on my cock.

“You want to choking on your cock, wow Hyun. You’re just disgusting. Can’t believe you would say that out loud pretty boy. But I don’t believe you have the right equipment for all that anyways. We should go the boys are already at the restaurant.” She goes to turn around but no before I pull her back to settle in my lap. “The right equipment baby, you’re fucking joking right? You don’t think I’m big enough for you?” I could tell by the slight smirk and the essence that seeping through her short ass bottoms she was getting off to this. “Wow, here I was thinking you were a good little obedient girl and you turned out to be just a whore. Getting off on my thigh, just need a big cock to fill that little virgin pussy to the brim don’t you, sweets?”….

Moving back and forth across my lap, humping me like a dog in heat she continues her little ministration. “Making promises you can’t keep, I wouldn’t be able to tell it was in realistically. But go on prove you’re a big boy.” Hearing that was just enough to set me off boys be dammed. I was gonna teach her to behave. Aggressive kisses running down her neck leaning into her chest. I moved to pull her top off leaving nothing but her bare, just sitting there all perfect for me. “You talk so much shit for your body to be aching for me right now, waiting to be filled.” Before, she could get a word at I manhandled her over. Throwing her into the middle of my bed so she could be on all fours.

Yanking her bottoms down while leaving raspberry like kisses down her spine. “Coming to my room with just this shit on, you were asking to be fucked. Every time, I see you walking around the dorm for other men to see you huh? You want them too?” Leaning over her while gripping the globes of her ass in the palm of my hands. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” My brain was in overdrive right now I finally had her right where I wanted her, nothing else mattered to me as she was later out arching while my thumb rubbed figure 8’s against her clit. Leaking all over my bed puffy and swollen. I was practically in heaven, until she had to screw me over.

“You weren’t exactly my target audience, I was hoping maybe Lixie would notice but I could settle for you.” Hearing that completely fucked me up. “Bullshit.” Not even letting her start up again before I jammed my finger inside her. “A-ahhh shit….w-wait Hyun.” Hearing the sloppy sounds of my fingers sloshing around inside of her fat cunt, it almost was enough to deter me from her bratty ass statement. I had to remain focused though, I couldn’t get pussy drunk just yet. “No, there’s not fucking wait gonna take my fingers in your little cunt and like it right. I was gonna be so gentle with you bear and you screwed me over like this. So, I know now you don’t need gentle love you need it rough.”

Jamming two more fingers straight in, I had to prepare her, as bratty as she was being I know she couldn’t take me without any prep. “Ooooohh…..shit f-fuck slow down”. She tried to push her hand out to stop me but I just moved them out the way. “You can take it, all that fucking attitude I know you can.” Having enough of waiting I shoved my face in between her thighs. “Ooo….god…Hyun…yesss.” Keeping up the rhythm my fingers started while shoving my tongue deep into her cunt as I sucked her clit in my mouth. She tasted amazing, “fuck you taste like strawberries baby, gonna have you sit on my face for hours next time ok.” Hearing no response I slapped her ass twice. Making her jolt and her head turned to look back at me while crying. Crying out not she was gonna cum for me for right in my mouth or I think I might lose it. Feeling her clench as I slapped her ass again. It felt almost like she was closing in on my tongue, I knew she was close. “Come on baby, in my mouth. Give it to me.”

Gripping her closer to me as she yelled out, “Fuckkkkkkkkkkkkk.” She squirted, first time ever and I made her squirt. Yea, it’s safe to say I was never getting over this moment. Picking up her braids gathering enough hair to pull her backwards. That arch was gonna make me slow my mind. She looked a mess her makeup was ruined mascara running down her face, sweating everywhere and not to mention the tears. And call me a sick asshole, but I loved every second of it. She was perfect. And mine. “Are you crying baby, really I haven’t even made you cum on my dick yet, too much?” She was so out of it I had to tap her face a couple of times. Must of took a lot out her, first orgasm. “You can take it, right ?” She started at me for a minute, then smiled, “I think your fingers wouldn’t disappoint me as much as your dick is going too.” Hearing that made me laugh, “I hope you never lose your spark bear, because from now on I’m gonna love fucking the fight right outta ya.”

“Prove it. Stop talking Hyun.” Letting go of her face she lands back on the pillows, I move slightly so I can drop my pants and underwear. Leaving my throbbing cock to sit in my hands as I stroke it firmly, Lily tries to turn and take a look. I hurry and place my palms on her back deepening the arch. “You don’t have to see, you’re gonna feel every inch inside you and know.” Pushing her head into the pillows just how I like it. I sit there and admire her, my little brat. I slowly start to push in not wanting to overwhelm her. But it was probably the most difficult task in my life considering how tight she was, it was as if my fingers weren’t even in her before. It takes all my willpower not to just hammer into her. Inch by inch it feels like the process takes forever. “Oo my god you’re too fucking big Hyun, wait.” I start leaving more kisses on her back and playing with her clit, trying to distract her from the pressure. “Can you take more for me baby? I know you can I mean you said I was little, remember?” As much as I want to make the pain go away I can’t resist teasing her.

“F-fuck there is more omg wait are you….s-shit. T-too big Hyun.” I just grab ahold of her hips and start to shove the remaining length inside of her. She screams and I give her a minute to recover, she feels like fucking heaven on the inside so warm and wet. Gripping me so tightly. It’s like I’m in a haze for a moment until I hear her hitting me in the thigh to start moving. Without any further explanation, I start slamming my hips into hers leaving her thrashing around the bed clawing at the sheets. She tries to move her hand to my waist to slow me down again. “No we aren’t doing that shit again, I’m too small for you remember that. So, take it.” She continues to scream and moan and I lose myself in the pleasure of it all. “Come on louder, b-baby…fuck.” I manage to find that beautiful spot that has her quivering and running away from me, feeling it trapped around my cock is gonna make me pass out. “So… f-fucking wet, angel. Lixie can’t get you like this.” I reach down to thumb her clit again. Best night of my life. Before I know she clenching and squirting again. “Yes, sweets give me more f-fuck just like t-that.” And my hips continued to hammer into her overstimulating muscles and all it meant nothing to me, I needed her to realize she was mine. “Yes, sweets throw that sit on me come on give it t-to me baby.” As she started to fuck her plush ass back against me only one thing was running through my mind. Hearing her moan my name until she couldn’t speak anymore, spanking her til her ass was raw just like her pussy was my mission. From that night forward. No more was the delicate little flower.

Hope y’all enjoy 😉 and plzzzz ignore the spelling if it’s wrong I never check it I need to do better.

[confused-bi-queer]

FIRST 2025 WIP WEDNESDAY

Hello, friends!!

This year, I want to write more, so I’ve been writing at least 300 words daily, which is a really good exercise. I have so many WIPS, but I’m focusing on 2 right now, for and from 2023 🤡 i deeply apologize to the artist.

Anyway. For the AU fest, I’m writing Davy and Lucy fan fiction (and you know I love the adults being young, so I’m THRILLED).

He sighs, pulling his hair. My hand comes up to stop him from doing that. It’s an awful habit of his. He lets me. Our hands rest on my lap, above the fabric of my schooled-issued skirt. His nails scratch it. Another habit I’ve learned he does; it seems to soothe him and centre him when he’s deep in thought. “I don’t want you to argue with them,” I say. His head hangs down. “Luz…” “I know, honey, but you have to behave.” I grab his head to pull it up, to make him look at me. He does. “Just for this weekend. Just through dinner, the first one.”

And for the second, the CORB one, is a cute lovely prompt that I turned sexy and funny, so I’m sharing my favorite bit:

“I want you,” Simon says, throwing one of his legs over mine, straddling me. His thighs are juicy and warm around me but I ignore it—as much as a man can deny temptation—, turning on my side to deposit him on the couch. Our intertwined legs don't improve my situation. Immediately, he reaches up to me, and I bat his hand away. “Baz…” “Eat the scones, love.” “If there’s any type of aphrodisiacs in there, I’m afraid it’s doomed to not do anything. I’m already in love with you, and I need you carnally.” I stare into his blue eyes, trying to make him listen. “Simon, I need to talk to you,” I say. “I need you to fuck me.” I try not to roll my eyes. “Jesus, Snow.” The one time I truly need him to think with another part of his body that’s not his prick.

I’m thinking about making EGF this year since last year I missed it, but we’ll see. I’m thinking of bottom!Simon because why haven’t I done it.

Now tagging back: @martsonmars @artsyunderstudy @nausikaaa @monbons @roomwithanopenfire

@emeryhall @aristocratic-otter @valeffelees @letraspal @johnwgrey

@cutestkilla @palimpsessed @whatevertheweather @orange-peony @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

@theearlgreymage @thehoneyedhufflepuff @blackberrysummerblog @messofthejess @j-nipper-95

@stitchy-queerista @hushed-chorus @rimeswithpurple @imagineacoolusername @alexalexinii

[lol-jackles]

I was pursuing your “Destiel” tag (thank you for posting it for that anon, btw, and bringing it back to my attention), and came across this statement from you:

“As a result, douchy Jensen + going off script = other actors trying to cope. My favorite was 2016 because that was when my girlfriend leaned close to the screen and said, "Jared, blink twice if you're being held against your will". Since then Jared had figured out how to handle these ~unscripted~ moments, but Misha hasn't.”

What was the moment in particular at 2016 JIB that made your girlfriend say that? Or what was Jensen going at that one? Wasn’t Gen at that one, too?

Also, what would you say Jared’s strategy has been in dealing with Jensen (when drunk) on stage at JIB? And why does Jensen seem “meaner” to Jared at JIB than at CE or AHBL cons? Which is closer to thier actual dynamic, do you think?

And I just have to add, it was pretty amusing seeing Misha momentarily (sadly not longer) regret his life choices at, was it 2019 JIB, where he pointed out the Destiel shirt and Jensen yelled about “where is it real?” Do you think Jensen was actually annoyed in this panel? I say yes, but my brother says no.

Jensen seems to keep it together more at JIBs post pandemic, but I was at JIB 13, and he gave off a huge air of just being over the whole thing by his solo Sunday panel. And he and Rich were essentially running out the clock by being loud idiots (my ears still hurt from being near a speaker).

They all claim to love JIB, but they also all seem pretty over it come Sunday.

Sorry that got long. Would love to see your response to any parts.

This was the first time I briefly talked about the infamous Jib con. Back in 2016 I used to think their co/dependent friendship was doomed at the 10-year mark because when one isn’t adjusting to the changing time, then the idolatries friendship can’t last more than 10 years at best.  I listed a few examples (X) from a feminist blog about women ending their female friendships, a woman ending her friendship with a male friend (X) Oliver Broudy’s story of ending his 10-year friendship with a college friend (X).  These friendships ended because one of them was stuck and making more and more demands on the unstuck friend.  We know happened after season 10 wrapped up (X) (X).

Anyways, what got my girlfriend's attention was Jared looking like a tug of war rope between Gen and Jensen and the boys. Regular corporate SPN cons in the U.S are already a male-dominated atmosphere bordering on frat boy shenanigans. At least there are corporate handlers and security to help keep the actors in line, plus alcohol are banned for actors. Jib cons are fan-run with no handlers and alcohol are allowed, and usually there are no actresses because the cost of the extra Jensen/Misha and Jared/Misha panels means some actors are going to get cut out and it’s usually the actresses. Without female colleagues around, the men really rile each other up at Jib cons, it’s part of their bonding and one-upmanship rituals. I think why Gen rarely participated in SPN cons is because she didn't want to be around all that dude energy. But 2016 was different because I think she blamed herself for leaving the 2015 British con early and is still traumatize that she nearly lost Jared few days later, so Gen agreed to let Jared drag bring her to Jib con. Men don’t like wives/girlfriends homing in on their bro times and Jensen was noticeable irritated that Jared’s wife was there and during the closing ceremony Jensen used air quotations marks while talking about Gen’s marriage to Jared who had his arms wrapped around her. He looked peeved at Jensen and then then laughed it off because what else could he do on stage?

(Side note: it’s not easy for men to find male friends and keeping them.  I hated the movie I love you, man because it was too familiar, and Paterson made me uneasy because Adam Driver's character has no male friends and he's more than okay with that because he has a wife.)

Jensen seems "meaner" not just to Jared but to every actor there, especially Misha. At these fan-run conventions, there are no "scripts" (guidelines actually) to follow. Most actors were still going by the guidelines from corporate-run conventions when they're on stage, but not Jensen because it's part of his upmanship as a way to both bond and dominate others. It's a Ryan Seacrest and Brian Dunkleman type situation. Maybe Jensen learned this trick from Ryan who used to be his roommate. Misha is not a natural improviser, his guest appearance on Whose Line Is it Anyways shows that, so he's the least apt at handling Jensen's off script moments. Half the time Jensen wasn't actually drunk but acts like it to avoid the inevitable asinine Destiel-loaded questions from the hellers in the audience.

Jared's strategy was about the same at pre-2016 JIB cons and CE cons because he's pretty apt at smoothing things over between Jensen and the fans. At the infamous 2013 New Jersey con a self-claiming bisexual girl tried to ask Jensen a loaded Destiel question and he snapped at her with, “don’t ruin it for everybody” and Jared immediately calmed Jensen down and salvaged the rest of the experience for sane fans.

Stuff like this is closer to their real life dynamic as the Giver and the Taker. If you read the "codependency tag", Jared the Giver cleans up the messes the Taker make. Givers think they're helping but they're actually enabling and don't improve things. Jensen's reputation took a slight hit, and it took a few years for the New Jersey con to be memory-holed. Apparently Jensen didn't learn from this and 3 years later mocked a girl wearing a "Destiel is real" shirt at the 2019 JIB. Misha told Jensen to not “fight with fans” and Jared was gesturing to a fan in the front row as if saying don’t look at me look at him. That may answer your question, Jared stopped trying to calm Jensen down and instead focus on heading off fans who gets too snippy at Jensen, like at a DC con few years back where a girl was trying to look cool but came off sounding hostile towards Jensen, so Jared left the stage and hugged the stuffings out of the girl, deflating her hostile-sounding voice.

I don't think I've seen Jensen's solo panel at JIB13, but he's usually looks like he's watching the clock during his Jared-less panels so that's nothing new. It's been the case for many years and a common complaint by fans, it's why CE stopped having solo J panels early on because Jensen needs a scene partner. It goes back to why Jensen works better as a scene-stealing supporting actor instead of a leading man. How Jensen made Dean Winchester have memorable moments was by putting his focus on the other person.  By using this method, Jensen can stop worrying about how he’s going to say his lines and speak intuitively, this helps make Dean appear truthful to the audience.  It may be why Jensen doesn’t read scripts ahead of time.   Jensen doesn’t go into a scene looking to do a scene, instead he goes in looking to be open and give over to how the other person (in this case, Jared playing Sam) makes him feel.  This method worked great for Jensen when his character has Sam to focus on, and Jensen has Jared to react to.  It’s why Dean’s dying moments with Sam in the barn works so well in the series’ finale.

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You probably heard of the saying, “acting is reacting”.

A demon’s acting philosophy in The Good Place: “Demons have to learn that Acting Is Reacting.  And Reacting Is Pre-acting. But Pre-acting? Well, that’s just being.”  

While “acting is reacting” gets mocked in the acting community because it’s a trap alot of actors fall into by adjusting their truthful inner life to their assumptions about the text.  Good acting is adjusting the text to your authentic emotion which is the result of the other person.  This where Jensen’s good acting comes from and it’s become his comfort zone and made him a multimillionaire by his mid 30s.  He’s in what my acting coach calls “the truthful contact”, it’s where actors are taught the first stage of authentic acting.  The next stage is “crafting”.  When you’re working solo without a screen partner, your skill at crafting becomes vital.  Crafting means anywhere from ability to endow meaning to objects so they have emotional meaning is important, or effectively get across justifications and point of views.