#kat scene pack

[artemisresources]

and my final gift @partiallypearl! if you want to make your own gifs, enjoy this kat scene pack!! (3/3)

leah minto as kat fate: the winx saga | all scenes | 1080P 11 files | 614 MB

mega download

[katrani]

Masuho extends some kind words to Asebi, and Asebi takes an opening to show some trinkets of hers, and again, how has Ukogi failed this hard. It does not turn out to be the case, but even if Asebi is a last-minute replacement, stuff like this had me so suspicious of Ukogi at the start. Why are you not coaching your lady on being more reserved, that everyone else here has More (tm) and that you're the underdogs so do not give them anything else. Surely, even if Asebi's family is poor at the moment, they know how nobility is supposed to be presented. Surely they're aware of how much difficulty they might have around the other nobility!

Anyways everyone except for Shiratama and Masuho laughs at Asebi, but notably neither lady tells their staff off for doing so. Masuho's question at Asebi is said with a little big of her smugness coming through, like it still mostly reads as kind but also somewhat patronizing. Then Shiratama takes everyone's attention by dropping and breaking her cup, which is an amazing tension relief, the music (which is always relatively understated so when you do notice it is For Impact) had been getting to this kind of harsh nervous shrill buzzing, and it cuts off with the cup shattering.

Masuho seems delightfully puzzled by Shiratama after, like she's re-evaluating if she needs to see Shiratama as actual competition, but her attendant Kikuno is the one that speaks up and in turn gets told off while Asebi takes the moment to flee.

[neverscreens]

— KAT MCNAMARA AS TAYLOR BLOOM.

Find in GALLERY. Like or reblog the post it was useful. Your interaction shows me that I should keep making screencaps. And if you want me to post some in separate posts, tell me! ♡

[seumyo]

bakugou “do it yourself—no—i’ll do it” katsuki.

In simple theory, you have your husband, Bakugou Katsuki, wrapped around your finger. And he can fight it all he wants, but it’s nothing if not the wholehearted truth.

“Hey, can you grab me some coffee?”

Bakugou didn’t even look up from his phone. “No. Get your own damn coffee.”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically, turning your attention back to your work. You didn’t miss the way Bakugou grumbled under his breath as he stood up a few moments later. When he returned, he placed a steaming cup of coffee on your desk without a word.

You hid your smile behind the rim of the cup. “Thanks, Katsuki.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, glaring at you.

-

Later that afternoon, you two were sparring in the gym in the comfort of your home—courtesy to your husband insisting that it’s a non-negotiable when arranging the first designs of your dream home together. You were struggling to move one of the heavier training dummies back into its original position, and once again you had the brilliant idea of putting your theory to the test.

What’s the point of having a husband if he doesn’t let you do things like these?

You let out an exaggerated sigh and turned to Bakugou, who was wiping sweat from his brow. For a moment, you forgot what you were about to say—momentarily distracted by how good he looks, muscles glistening and all with his signature black tank top.

Goddamn, you scored a hottie.

“Katsuki, help me move this,” you called, pointing at the dummy.

“No way,” he shot back immediately. “You’re the one who moved it there, so you deal with it.”

“Fine,” you sighed, turning back to the dummy and giving it an exaggerated shove. Before you could try again, Bakugou had stormed over, cursing at the dummy under his breath. He grabbed the dummy with one hand and effortlessly dragged it back into place.

“There. Happy now?” he grunted.

Oh, so it could be resist, then actually do it, or refuse while doing it anyway.

You smiled. “Very. Thanks, Katsuki.”

“Shut up,” he growled, his ears slightly tinged with pink.

-

By the end of the week, it had become a game for you. You’d ask for the simplest things, knowing full well that Bakugou would always refuse—only to do it anyway. Maybe it’s his love language to refuse but comply nevertheless.

“Can you pass me the remote?”

“No. Use your legs.” Hands it over.

“Can you open this jar for me?”

“Do it yourself.” Opens it in one twist.

“Can you get groceries on your way home?”

“Fuck no.” What do you mean he’s already loading the grocery bags in his car?

“Can you carry my bag for a second?”

“Die. I’m not your damn pack mule.” Carries it all the way home.

-

One evening, you two were sitting on the couch of your home, eating takeout and watching a movie. You were cuddled up with a freshly ironed blanket—thanks to Bakugou, who had done the laundry yesterday while you did the ironing when everything had dried enough—poking at your food lazily. You turned to Bakugou, your head resting on the couch cushion.

“Hey, can you grab me some water?” you asked with a sweet smile.

Bakugou glared at you, pausing mid-bite, his usual scowl in place. “No. You’ve got legs. Use ‘em.”

“Okay,” you said simply, turning your attention back to the movie.

You decided that you’ll get water once you finish this specific scene.

Bakugou lasted all of five minutes before he let out a loud groan, stomping to the kitchen and returning with a glass of water. He shoved it into your hands, his expression equal parts annoyed and resigned.

“There,” he grumbled. “Happy now?”

You took the glass with a smug grin. “Thanks, Katsuki. You’re the best.”

He sank back onto the couch, crossing his arms and glaring at the screen. “You’re so damn annoying.”

“You love me,” you said teasingly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his ears turning red. But he didn’t deny it.

“Married me, too. So I don’t think you mind at all.”

“Die.”

“‘til death do we part, Kats.”

And despite all his protests, you knew the truth. Katsuki Bakugou might have sworn you’d never have him wrapped around your finger, but with every little thing he did for you—grudgingly or not—you knew you had your conclusion.

Even if it’s a little bit.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[tusswrites]

Sold For A Soul (i)

pairing: jeon wonwoo x idol female reader (idol AU)

genre: strangers to lovers

synopsis: “Just so you know,” he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity, “I’d do anything to keep you close like this. Just come to me , when you have bad days like this . I want to be the one who gets to hear your complaints and worries. I want to be your rock. I want to start loving you , and to show you what love feels like. It’s not the worst feeling in the world, to be vulnerable.” or

making bargains with the devil in exchange for a chance to glory. lies, deception and uncovered feelings in a world of glitz and glam.

word count: 14k+

warnings: mentions of mistreatment, profanity, cheating (not between Y/N and Wonwoo) , eating disorder, nothing in detail but brushed over implications of abuse, power play, self loathing reader, mentions of toxic family, a lot of angst before the rainbow

rating : 18+ (no actual smut but yeah, suggestive content)

a.n. : my baby is finally being posted! truly grateful for haneul @chanranghaeys for suffering through actual garbage into producing this..thanks to eunha @svtiddiess for having to unintentionally be my beta reader for several scenes, and to kat my love @hee0soo for getting roped into it. also indi for everything you said to give me the courage to actually pen this down.

behold the masterlist that lies here!

disclaimer: I am sorry it took over two months to post this after the teaser came out! This has been in my drafts for over two months and long before, existed in my head. please understand that almost every incident in this fic, although it is set in idolverse, is fictional. unless stated otherwise, everything comes from my head and articles I have read through reddit regarding the entertainment industry in general. If you notice any similarities, please realize that it's purely coincidental, i had no intention on making a fic through anything that happened in kpop this year or the year before. however, there are some heavy topics mentioned here, so please heed the warnings and proceed with caution. if you comment , send asks or reblog with thoughts, know that for every one of these i am screaming into my pillow and kicking my feet out of giddiness!

It was never meant to come down to this. You were supposed to be a lawyer, following the predictions of Doljanchi after having picked up a mallet, destined to lead a life weighed down by the same misery that burdened your father, and his father before him. If a genealogical study were to be taken, it could be proven that the gene of misery passed down through the L/N blood. Shouldering the weight of a thousand suns on your shoulders, you’ll push your way forward, trying to attain even a bit of nirvana in this lifetime.

Which brings you here, to this dingy, roach-infested dorm, beds overlapping each other-nowhere suitable for young women to sleep. You have no time to wallow in your misery at this absolute shitshow of a place; you can only rush in haste, packing your bag and running out the door and into the sleek black van that will transport you to your destination.

Music Bank MC Hong Eunchae is on a world tour overseas, as are other popular artists, which leaves space for smaller company artists to fill up the slot as guest MCs, even if it’s just for one week. It’s a bloodbath getting a position in the nation’s finest music show as an MC and interviewing other big artists. You were never interested in the first place. In fact, your bandmate and second youngest, little Sorin, had jumped at the opportunity to take this position, excited at the prospect of being near her all-time favorite band, Seventeen. You have nothing against them; you know they’re popular, but that’s just about it.

Years of singing, dancing, and rapping have desensitized your overall love for the art form of music. You take no pleasure in keeping up with trends and fads. Your company however prohibited Sorin from her dream role and instead forced you into this. You hadn’t missed Sorin’s sidelong glance; you know she is upset, but there’s only so much you can do, after all. In your head, you promised her an autograph to make up for your company’s lack of empathy.

Music Bank’s dressing room for the MCs was much grander than you could have imagined, your stylist was thrilled at the idea of more space without having to jab elbows with one another. With your makeup fixed upon your face, you rush off to don the outfit that was picked out for you, only to be dismayed as you watch the blouse—a little too bold to call it a blouse—turn out to be a tight corset, purposefully two sizes too small for you. Any mishap and you could be bursting at the seams, your boobs spilling out, and putting on a free show on live TV.

You sit down to peer over your script, pondering over the several social cues you have to follow. A laugh after Seungcheol-ssi recited his ‘scripted’ joke? Shaking your head you continue to read through, bemused at all the ill witted acting you have to do. Notwithstanding the cringe that has to come from your mannerisms ( you have to tuck your hair behind your face and bat your lashes when Mingyu-ssi makes eye contact with you?) ,you are overtaken by the sudden shaking feeling that you were being watched. Never one to escape the overthinking allegations of your brain, you simply shrug it off and keep scrolling through.

But no, there’s a certainty that has come over you. You were being watched and that thought was rattling you.

Your adrenaline on high alert, you jerk at the intrusion of someone in your personal space,and do the first thing that comes to your mind, watching in horror as you fling a six-foot boy onto the ground. The boy looks up at you in slight bewilderment, surprised by your strength to push him like a can of potatoes, while you stare amazedly at your hands. Where was all this superhuman strength when you needed it earlier?

“ I am sorry I know this looks bad I-”

Oh it did look bad. For you, the company, the fans. Because what possessed you to shove a Jeon Wonwoo onto the floor? Why had said man been peering over your shoulder in the first place? 

Questions. So many questions and so little answers.

“Please don’t press charges, I can explain,” Wonwoo hurriedly says, his eyes staring worriedly at you, bottom lip drawn tight.

You say nothing, instead reaching out a hand to help him up. You get pulled down slightly due to his weight, but he manages to hold you just in time, getting steady and standing still.

“Look this is going to sound stupid but I didn’t intend to scare you you know? I was done with hair and makeup a little earlier than the boys  and I had some time to kill and so I wandered. I saw you holding the booklet labelled ‘Seventeen’ and I just wanted to see our script- and-” —I know it sounds super stupid, but I—well, I—” His hands flail in all directions, trying to nail down one emotion. 

 “I am sorry, but I didn’t think you’d turn around this fast, I was going to tell you I swear.” his nervous rambling continued.

Awkward silence lingers.

A conversation you had with your younger bandmate minutes prior to accepting this role pops off in your head.

“Sorin, I am really, really sorry about this. I had no choice; please understand. I’ll get you an autograph if I see Wonwoo sunbaenim, though?” 

“Can I have an autograph?” you finally muster

Now it’s his turn to stare at you, befuddled, as if you had grown two heads. You hadn’t spoken a word till now and he did not expect this to be your opening line.  Were you a fan? Hope rises. When he had still not uttered anything, you begin- “Look, umm, that’s fine, haha.” You begin, cringing inwardly at your tone, awkward and forced, trying to diffuse the tension. The boy raises an eyebrow, clearly unsure whether to laugh or be concerned. You can feel your heart racing, and the weight of the moment presses down on you.

“I don’t mind, but can you please sign something for me? My little bandmate is a huge fan of yours and she would be ecstatic if she got one.”

He looks a little forlorn as he replies, “I am sorry, we are not allowed to give out autographs as per company orders.”

You are a little upset, but you can understand. Hybe did have strict rules about artist security.

 Seeing your downcast eyes, he comes up with an idea.

“How about this? Can you do a TikTok challenge with me for 'God of Music?' I’ll get you that autograph. The company has been on my back, trying to get an idol to do this challenge with me. I think it’s fair that I give you an autograph after that? I’ll just say it's a tit for tat situation? ” He looks hopeful.

You simply nod, a little disappointed at the prospect of doing a TikTok challenge. You weren’t a huge fan of this trend that made other idols dance to your group's songs, and you sure as hell weren’t interested in doing another group's song, especially one as hard as Seventeen's. But you have no choice. This is the only way you can get Sorin to be a little less hostile with you—she could hold a grudge for days.

Wonwoo’s methods for teaching you the steps are a huge contrast to your hostile choreographer who has no patience for your inability to remember steps as quickly as your bandmates do. Wonwoo is patient and understanding of your long limbs, probably owing to his own long limbs. You quite welcome this style of teaching, as opposed to merciless taunting and jeering of your slow pace in nailing a step right. For every mistake, all Wonwoo does is giggle and although you should be offended, you can’t find it in you to be.

The Music Bank interview went better than you’d like to give yourself credit for . “So Wonwoo-ssi, " That was Dokyeom-ssi mimicking the voice of Santa and taking over the interview. You panic a little, Dokyeom ssi speaking wasn’t part of the script. The director behind the camera looks bewildered as do you. But years of media training did prepare you to prolong a poker face so you remain infixed, even with the fact that Mingyu standing next to you couldn't remain still for a single second. Seventeen were thirteen men and this was a tight fix for several men. No sooner had you entertained the thought when you felt a slight shove from your left and there you were, getting pushed again.

A hand comes from behind, to get you to remain still, for which you are grateful, you didn’t want to fall face flat on live TV. You turn around and shoot Wonwoo a thankful smile, gladly reciprocated by your new acquaintance.

You come back home ,finally crashing  after five straight hours of practice for a comeback that was still not approved by the management, exhausted and hungry.

That very night, SNS went viral. Pictures of you spread across the internet, capturing the moment you were mid-fall, with Wonwoo’s hands securely holding your waist. Cropped images of his face, paired with 10x zoomed-in shots of his hands wrapped around your hips, flooded timelines everywhere.

“It’s so obvious Wonwoo has a crush on her; just look at his eyes. The eyes never lie.” —carathoshiminwon97

“Look at the way he is looking at her in worry. Me when?” -aespasnakekyeomie

Yn you lucky bitch -@svtiddies

“I want someone to look at me the way Wonwoo looks at Y/N. “ junslastlimbofinesse

I have no idea who I want to be . Am I jealous of Wonwoo or Y/N?” confusedbisxeual

“I had no idea that a HYBE idol’s dating life would become public, especially for someone like Jeon Wonwoo. Man’s secretive as hell.” —sawdeintellgraphhwahwa88

“It’s over, y’all. My heart is in a million pieces. My bias is gone.” —wonnieismyhusband

“Aww, my eyes are blessed with the double visual attack! Y/N and Wonnie for life! Fighting!!!” —multistanarmycarat

“Happy for you, but also sobbing in my room! 😩💔 Can’t believe I’ll never be your one and only! #DramaticFan”

Fanarts, tiktok and reel edits, fanfiction even? In just a matter of moments you were being circulated everywhere. You don’t miss the vile shit either. There are AI images of you and Wonwoo, morphed and pasted into the most repugnant poses. You scroll past, heart sinking and disgust never leaving. The pros and cons of being an idol you guess.

There are some nasty comments, too. You choose not to linger too long on them, though words like “slut,” “untalented,” and “nugu group” stand out. You figured as much.

“PD-nim wants to see you in his office now.”

You freeze midstep. It’s not the first time Kim Hangyuck has asked you to come visit his office privately , but after your last stunt you’d reckon he’d have some shame before calling you in this quickly. Was what you did last time not enough for him?

“Unnie, this is exciting news. Do you think he called you over to give news about a comeback?” That was Chul, the maknae of your group, excitedly jumping in glee at the hopes of a prospective comeback. Poor innocent child . The plethora of information you held back from her to protect the youth she will otherwise not have.

Giving her an easy nod, you walk with trepidation to his office, a prayer in your heart and head held high. Men like him can smell fear from far away, eagerly stamping over it.

“Come in.”

You hadn’t even knocked. Which probably meant he was spying on you all this while.You’re not in the least surprised. Sounds just like him.

Upon entering you're greeted by one of your nightmares in human form seated behind a chair, fingers tapping impatiently against the table. For what reason. You hadn’t even taken two minutes to attend to his whims and calls. Not like you could.

With a condescending nod, he signaled you to come closer. Anxiety rose high but you pushed it back down, inching closer to his table. Every moment in his proximity kickstarted your fight or flight response.

He slides a photocard across the table and you glance down to see oh-

“Jeon Wonwoo” he slurs out.

You know. You’ve been trying hard to drive his image from your head after that unfortunate meetup backstage. The photocard across the table wasn’t helping much with that affirmation. Confusedly you turn back up to look at his leering gaze right on your cleavage. With as much discomfort as you could try to hide, you stand straight, never giving him that satisfaction again.

“Han Sung-Soo from Pledis called today. He asked for your number. Looks like someone here caught the eyes of a handsome young man.”His beady eyes glint at you expectantly as if he was passing the good news except you feel nothing of that sort.

“I don't’ understand -”

‘Well, you’re in luck, gorgeous- “ you wanted to gag. Nicknames from him reflexively brought out such reactions. -Wonwoo here says he hopes that you will go on a date with him.”

You don’t want to go on a date with Wonwoo. You have nothing against him but you also have nothing for him. Why waste time on another man that was sure to break your heart in more ways than one?

“I don’t-”

“Well lucky for you, I said yes”. You don’t have it in you to lose energy. This is typical of Kim Hangyuck. Making decisions in your personal life with no thoughts whatsoever to ask you. He leans back, looking shamelessly proud of himself.

“I thought we were not supposed to be in a relationship based on our contracts.”

“Is that why I caught you with your boyfriend the other day?”

You gulp. What?

“Don’t act so surprised gorgeous, remember what I told you? I have eyes everywhere. Everywhere.” A shiver of disgust coursed through your veins, any second longer with him, you were going to throw up in his face.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Go on a date with him, lure him by your beauty, entice him enough to make him your boyfriend.” You could see the smug grin on his face like he was proud of his terrible idea.

You want to refuse but the consequences of defying an order run far deeper than you could possess to think right now.

“Why?”

‘Because gorgeous, we need funds. If you girls want the next comeback out soon, we need the publicity to attract fans to Blush Girls. This way, if we leak the news of your relationship to the press, a scandal breaks out and we gain something from this. Don’t forget this is someone from Hybe Labels. He’s high profile.”

“I thought he asked for my number because he liked me . If this is a romantic relationship, isn’t this breaching the contract of trust Hybe will endow upon me?”

He shrugged, least bothered about your emotions here. Obviously your thoughts don't matter.

‘I don’t care Y/N . Seduce him, get him in your bed, make him fall in love with you and get into a relationship with him. This is the only way ‘Blush Girls’ will get a breakthrough. Follow the plan or I will scrap your project. No comebacks, instant contract termination." Venom oozed out from his warning. He was every bit the cruel man to carry out that threat. You knew it. You couldn’t let down your members like this because your morale came in the way. You owed it to them at least.

“Fine. One date. But I get to choose the restaurant and I want Yoon to accompany me .”

“Nice try, gorgeous. We have already selected the restaurant for you. It’s on us. Victor will be accompanying you. We need to keep an eye out on you at all times.”

Victor was a pervert. During your trainee days you kept a knife under your pillow, for fear of that sleazy man. Unfortunately, the company refused your demands to fire him despite the multiple protests by artists. He was also Hangyuck’s right hand. His extra pair of ears and eyes. You knew exactly why he was accompanying you.

“Alright”. You agree. You have no choice after all.

Shaking hands with Kim Hangyuck on this deal feels like signing off your soul to the Devil.

The first date comes before you have time to reflect on it or find ways to escape the plan at all. 

It started off awful. You began on the wrong foot, clad in a busty outfit that left little to the imagination, especially for someone like Victor, who required none. Your protests against your outfit were silenced with a strong threat from your manager, quelling any audacity you had to question management's generosity in providing you with a ‘branded’ dress and paying for this date.

Makeup had covered his handprint well, but you had enough rage to flip a table. You arrive at the designated restaurant, surprised at the luxury of it. With the cheap budget decisions your company made over and over again, you didn’t think they had it in them to indulge in fine dining.

Wonwoo greeted you at the table with a ninety-degree bow.

 Sorin had told you he was older; just like a Naver search had confirmed. As your senior artist, you were supposed to bow to him, and this was an informal meeting? Then why was he bowing?

As if to mend the awkwardness, Wonwoo extends his right hand to shake yours in a cordial gesture, leaving you even more confused. Who shakes hands before a date?

The date was extremely awkward, for lack of a better word. You were very uneasy. 

Victor was set to accompany you as mandated by PD nim, but his beady eyes never left your body, making the air feel thick with discomfort. You kept trying to sit up straight every time you unconsciously bent down to look at the table, only to meet Victor's leering gaze on your cleavage.

“So, how was your day?” Wonwoo asked, hoping to break the silence between the three of you.

“Good,” you replied curtly.

“O-okay. Cool.” Dead silence followed.

He called a waiter over and placed his order. You opted for just wine. He looked a little bewildered at your choice to abstain from eating but made no comments, sending the waiter away with both your orders. And Victor’s, who hadn’t made a move except to continue undressing you with his eye and order off the whole menu.

In a true heroic moment, Wonwoo intervened, gently ushering Victor out. You watched with mild curiosity as Wonwoo slipped a few thousand-won bills from his pocket into Victor's stubby hands. Victor flashed a grin, showing his yellow teeth, and walked away from the table. Wonwoo returned, sending a charming smile your way.

Finally noticing your agitation with your dress, Wonwoo stripped off his jacket and handed it to you.

You were unsure of what to do with a new piece of fabric.

“Ahh, he’s probably uncomfortable with the jacket behind him,” you thought. Taking it from him, you place it on your lap, clutching tightly. He dropped his chopsticks mid bite, staring at you in astonishment.

“What?”

“Y-you—”

“I?”

“Nothing.” 

He went back to his stew, and you returned to your wine.

“So, how’s the wine?” he asked, once again trying to strike up a conversation.

“It’s nice. Tastes like wine.”

“Ahh, okay.”

More silence followed.

Was it your turn to ask something for a change?

“How is yours?” you ventured.

“My what?” he countered.

“Your wine.”

“I didn’t order wine. I ordered soda.”

“Oh.”

Nobody utters a single word after that.

Safe to say, dinner wasn’t going too well.

But Wonwoo is a gentleman, so after dinner—however awkward it was—he offers to take you home, silencing all your formalities as you begin to look for Victor. Wonwoo tells you he has left. Your company was not going to take too kindly to sending off your bodyguard, you could only hope the greed in Victor , satisfied at the bills thrown his way, would silence his complaints.

You know you shouldn’t trust Wonwoo over another man, but you’d take any man over Victor and Hangyuck, and that was saying something. Feeding your location into his GPS, you embark on the long, awkward journey back home.

The location you recited  to Wonwoo is a lie.

This was not the exact location of your dorm, but you’d be damned if you showed a HYBE artist where Delaware Labels housed their trainees. It was enough to attract a lawsuit—not the kind of publicity your company was willing to take.

Wonwoo catches on pretty quickly when he parks the car in front of a park that has no building in plain sight. 

He fixes you with another look that prompts you to chant your real address this time. You cringe as he nears the poor excuse for a building where you live, shoulders drawn tight.

Sorin, in her endless gushing over her dream man and explaining Carat lore, had always claimed that Wonwoo was hot but naive as hell.

With firsthand experience, you'd confidently say she was wrong about that. He looked carefully into your eyes reading every micro-expression on your face like a book. When he stopped the car at your entrance, he turned to look at you. You glanced down at his jacket, still clutched in your hands, and, as if remembering to return it, you placed it on his lap.

“Oh,” he exclaims, taking the jacket from you. It was meant for you to cover up, but you clearly hadn’t caught onto the hint, and he was too shy to ask you to, believing it would make things more awkward.

“Y/N,” he finally croaks out from his perch on the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel  and his body turned wholly toward you.

You look back at him, blinking at the earnest expression in his eyes.

Was he going to do something like kiss you? God, you hoped not. He had been decent so far, and you didn’t want that to be ruined by some unwanted advance. Was that his payback for his good character? Was that why he sent Victor home? Oh, how things were clearing up.

“Y/N?” this time his head was tipped to the side, a questioning look dancing across his eyes. 

In true fashion, you had assumed the worst and drifted off into several meaningless thoughts. His name calling brought you back to the present. You cock an eyebrow , waiting for a response. 

“You know,-  he starts -“when Seventeen started out, we had a small dorm too. There wasn’t enough room and way too many young boys. We didn’t have any active listeners or great brand deals; we just had each other. We made the best of it. It’s a gradual curve, you know? Release comeback after comeback, with no wins, working your ass off, and one day that hard work pays off. Now I’m not scared to admit it, but I love your group’s songs; I bought two of your albums, and my bias is you.

You jerk your head at that and feel a small blush creep up his face, his eyes darting around nervously , hesitant to look at your face. Cute.

The kindness bestowed on you by a total stranger was not lost on you, your eyes watering reflexively at his sudden graciousness.

Seeing your red rimmed eyes, Wonwoo panics, offering any consolation to get you to stop crying- tough luck. You kept sniffling, but no tears streamed down thankfully. 

“I can’t go home like this," you state woefully. “They'll think something happened to me and I can’t afford them questioning me right now."

Wonwoo nods sympathetically. 

“Can I drive you around the block?” he asks with a hopeful look on his face.

Well, the night is still young. 

“Yes, that would be nice, thank you.”

You settle back as Wonwoo reverses the car, your breath hitching as he casually drapes an arm around the back of your seat. His focused gaze shifts behind him, steering the car with practiced ease as it glides smoothly in reverse and into the chilly night.

“Fighting, Y/N.” he sends you off an hour later with a big grin on his face and the leftovers of the food he had ordered for you at the restaurant , despite your refusal to eat. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you walk home, a dopey grin on your face and a bag filled with food.

Tiptoeing into the dorm, you’re surprised to see none of your hooligan bandmates asleep except for Chuul. They were actively awaiting your return. A warm smile spreads across your face as you share the boxes of leftovers, watching in amusement as they all dig in, your heart full . Diets be damned. 

You need to take these empty containers and throw them in the trash bins outside the building before your manager finds them in the dorm though. 

To an eager crowd of four, you announce your date was ‘great’, even though that is the last you will go on a date with Wonwoo.

You had followed the company’s orders; a couple of photos were taken—they could go viral or not; you don’t care. But in an ideal world, you and Jeon Wonwoo will never date.

“So, Y/N, how’d the date go last week?” Hyanyuck asked, his tone deceptively casual as he strolled into the rehearsal room a week later. His presence always felt like a storm cloud, ominous and charged with tension.

“It went badly, I don’t see a spark. I don’t think this will work. Sorry.” You focused on massaging your sore wrists, a futile attempt to ease the cramps that Vogueing had inflicted on you.

“She’s lying. Wonwoo-ssi had texted her the next day, and she still hasn’t responded,” Sorin chimed in from across the room, her tone sharp and teasing.

Your heart dropped. How did she know? Why was she going through your phone?

Hyayuck's smirk deepened as he turned to you. “So you lied to me?”

“It’s not like that, I—”

“Silence.” He held out his palm like a judge passing a sentence. “Give me your phone.”

“I can’t do that.” You felt a mix of defiance and dread, but your phone was swiftly passed to him by Yoonha, who shot you a triumphant look. Betrayal coursed through your veins.

As Hyanyuck scrolled through Wonwoo’s messages—sweet good mornings, soft concerns— all unanswered by you, your stomach churned with anxiety. Each text felt like a thread tightening around your heart, especially as Hyanyuck began replying with cringeworthy flirtations. Your cheeks burned reading what he wrote over his shoulder as he set another date.

You’d never text like that. Who even called someone “darling”? This was wrong—leading Wonwoo on like this was unjust. You resolved to confess everything to him tomorrow, the date Hyanyuck set for your next meetup. You couldn’t betray someone like this.

From the texts, it was clear Wonwoo was a little unsure about the sudden enthusiasm.

“Is this really Y/N?”

“Yes, yes darling. It is me. 😉😘”

You cringed again

When the second date arrived, it was oddly intimate. Victor was absent, leaving you and Wonwoo alone to navigate the currents of this charade. You slipped into your favorite pink dress, a small source of comfort knowing the stylist gave you freedom to choose your own outfit this time. Her way of apologizing for your obvious disinterest and being forced to do something you didn’t want to.

Wonwoo looked stunning in his olive green shirt, rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearm veins that gave anyone a good charity view. Under any other circumstances you’d have fallen for Wonwoo, and you can’t deny a handsome man when he was placed in front of you like this.

As you sat across from him, the atmosphere felt heavy. You glanced at your untouched plate, lying as still as your resolve to maintain this facade. This time he was visibly uncomfortable being the only one who ate. Wonwoo chewed nervously, and the sound seemed amplified in the silence between you.

Taking one more sip of your wine, you cleared your throat and he looked up mid chew, eyes widened like boba balls between the mandu in his mouth. Cute.

“So, I—” you stammered, anxiety prickling at the back of your mind. You rubbed your clammy palms against your dress, the fabric doing little to quell your unease.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, inviting. You wished he was a little more inattentive and distracted like everyone else.

“Listen, Wonwoo-ssi, this is a setup. My company, uh, Delaware, is struggling to push their artists to go viral, and they used me to date you—to create a scandalous relationship that would get people talking. You know by now any publicity is good publicity.”

You expected anger or disbelief, but what met you was something far worse: a flicker of sadness in his eyes. It struck a chord deep within you, the weight of his disappointment settling in your chest like a stone. “I understand,” he said, his voice cracking just slightly, as if he were trying to hold back a tide of emotions.

The air between you thickened with unspoken words, and a part of you ached to take it all back, to rewrite this moment. You could see the hurt etched on his face, and it twisted something inside you.

Returning to the practice room later, dropped hastily by a Wonwoo that refused to look at you, you come back to see your members practicing dance to a new song.

You find maknae Chuul in the middle dancing provocatively to steps not age worthy and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness surged within you. This wasn’t right—how could anyone allow a child to perform something so suggestive? You strode forward, determination fueling your steps.

“Uh, no, Chuul cannot be doing this.”

Ampers, the choreographer, raised an eyebrow, his irritation palpable.

“And why should I listen to you?” You stood firm, the adrenaline coursing through you. “Because it’s my job to protect my members, especially the minors, I am the leader of Blush Girls.”

A silence fell over the room, heavy and electric. Ampers’ hand shot out, and the slap resonated like thunder, shocking everyone into stillness. You felt the sting, both physical and emotional. It wasn’t just the pain that hurt; it was the weight of the moment, the knowledge that you had challenged authority in a world where no one dared to.

Ampers was an eccentric man; no one dared to question his decisions—not even the CEO, and that was saying something. There were a lot of shady rumors about him being a drug lord or an underground mafia leader. Given the amount of leverage he had over Delaware Labels, you didn’t doubt it.

Eunsae and Mishal’s faces turned to rage, Yoonha’s expression shifted to one of shock, and the rest of the room held its breath, stricken. You turned to comfort Chuul and Sorin, their tears igniting a fierce protectiveness in you.

Eunsae rushes in with a pack of something cold, icing your face with tender urgency, but the sting lingers—both from the slap and the fact that Yoonha’s gaze bore into you with envy.

“You’ve stolen my best friend, too,” she murmured, the jealousy lacing her voice sharp enough to cut.

In that moment, you felt the weight of your choices, a complex tangle of emotions you couldn’t untangle. You wanted to protect them all, yet here you were, caught in a web of your own making, trying to figure out where you fit in this chaotic world.

You should have known Ampers’ pride was too high for him to go down without a fight.

Social media exploded. You watched as you, the darling of the nation for your unique beauty and obvious spotlight for a three second viral moment turned into a pariah overnight.

Multiple newspapers splashed your face across their front pages with the headline “K-Pop Star Under Fire: Workplace Harassment Reveals Idol’s True Nature.” Accused of harassment. You? What had you done to deserve this?

The article detailed how you, a visual member of a nugu group, had been accused by anonymous staff members of “bad behavior” and “rude remarks,” claiming your members lived in fear of you. It was a twisted narrative that made your stomach turn.

What stung even more was that all the fans who had once supported you now turned against you. Your relationship with Wonwoo became a target; all the dance challenges you’d done together were scrutinized and ridiculed. You were slut-shamed and deepfaked in the most grotesque ways. The sheer ferocity of the backlash was horrifying. The very people who had cheered for you now called you the vilest names online.

Your members walked on eggshells, unsure of how to act around you. All you did was feel hollow, surrounded by people yet truly alone. Then, your phone rang. It was your mother. Your heart sank.

“Eomma, hi.” your voice quavered.

“What did I tell you about keeping that tongue of yours in check? Now look at what you’ve done. If you get dropped by your agency, know that you’re not welcome here. I cannot afford to take care of a useless daughter and a useless husband.”

The “useless husband” in question was your father, who had become a quadriplegic after a heroic accident to save your mother’s life. Her gratitude had morphed into bitterness, and she had turned into the most spiteful woman you knew. Sometimes you couldn’t believe the hateful words that left her lips. There was tough love, and then there was this—whatever twisted means it took for her to show she cared. You have grown up raising yourself. Your mother was aloof, a total nightmare. Her yells echoed in your mind even now. Your older brother had gone no contact the moment he turned 18, and it hit you hard. It was up to you to help the family. Your aspirations to become a lawyer were met with disdain; she wanted easy money, not hard-earned success.

She had pushed you into pageants and modeling—things you hated, all driven by the toxic culture. Your mother had practically whored you out, contacting agencies to get you into acting or modeling owing to your obvious beauty. When that failed, she forced you into auditions at Delaware Labels, prohibiting you from attending college. The agency took one look at your face and signed you up, ignoring your protests that you couldn’t sing or dance. It was the only time you ever saw her smile at you. Wanting to see more of that smile, you signed a seven-year contract, effectively ending your dreams of law school and subjecting yourself to a regime of extreme diets and pain. The only blessing in your life had been your former friend Julie. When she left, you were left with four other young girls to protect from the industry’s evils.

“Eomma, it wasn’t my fault.” you pleaded with the woman that birthed you.

“You think I will believe your word against a well-established man in the industry? You lied to me about dropping out of law school. I had to do it for you when your manager called to tell me you were caught sneaking out for evening classes.” Her voice dripped with contempt, as if she abhorred you.

Typical of your mom.

“Y/N, I have no money. If I die today, your father—”

There she went again with her blackmailing. Her ability to drag your sick father into any argument was astonishing.

A nation was against you, your family was against you, your own band members were against you. And yet your agency stayed silent. There was no letter to warn the fans against the malicious rumors. No effort to clear your name. Nothing.

Pledis had contacted Delaware to inform them that while it was too soon to release a post clearing the mess and wipe Wonwoo’s name linked with yours, there would be no further relations between you two. Which explained the dead silence from his side.

Since you weren't the actual problem here, your company had no choice but to let you continue with practise as usual. The CEO hadn’t announced a comeback date yet but hopes were rising for one. Your publicity, albeit a negative one had given the public to raise eyes toward you, the next comeback was a sure step to bag some fans. Which meant the company was working hard to produce good music. You hoped they didn’t end up with some hard notes for you, given as you still couldn’t actually hold notes either. 

After five days of radio silence from Wonwoo you had begun to move on . Hating your heart for even hoping he’d call to ask. Of course he thinks you were the one at problem here too. 

However, today, your phone rings with a strange text from an unknown number. You were used to the spam texts from creeps, but this was a strange number signed ‘WW’. Which, if your Carat memory was right, was Wonwoo’s signature to end every text.

A small crack comes through and you dare to hope.

It was Wonwoo. He was outside your dorm and he wanted you to meet him downstairs.

You were stupid if you missed that chance.

Wonwoo leads you to the nearby park, well sheltered by a canopy of trees, illuminated by the small fluorescent street lights that were dimming at its ends.

And this time, he’d brought a picnic basket with him

“I made this for you," he says, shoving a messily assembled sandwich into your hands, all smiles and squinty eyes, you can’t help but crack a smile. An action that brings him to further his smile, you reciprocating thoughtlessly.

Well you can’t excuse not eating after he prepared it for you.

 The last time someone cooked for you was when you were 13, before your grandmother passed away. When it was clear you had attained some cooking knowledge , your mother had made you in charge of cooking all the meals at home. Even when you went home for the holidays, it was you doing the cooking, never the other way.

You suppose you could eat just this once , if not for you at least for him. You could always expel it later. 

You didn’t have to wait for later. One bite in and you were spitting it out.

Wonwoo watches with the cutest face you have ever seen on a grown man, unknown pout on his lips and furrowed eyebrows at your blatant disrespect spit out what he had lovingly taken time to make.

“Wonwoo-ssi” . “Did you umm- did you eat this’ “No, I wanted you to have the first bite.” Of course he did.

You were not going to hurt his feelings like that. You were not that cruel despite what the tabloid told. But you could make him taste and see what he’s done.

“Can you take one bite” you insist, pushing the sandwich closer to his mouth.

In a way to see what the hullabaloo was all about , he takes a tentative bite of the sandwich and you watch as his face morphs from doubt to disgust. His pout intensifies.

“ I thought I did good.”

“What did you even put in here”,  your amusement never failing to make an appearance. “All the fancy stuff Gyu uses.”, he answers, shoulders tilted up with certain pride.

“Like what?” you were curious.

“This is my first time cooking ever.” He admits ashamedly and you are no longer surprised. That explains the undecipherable saltiness to this sandwich. 

“So I decided to be a little fancy and reached into Mingyu’s seasoning cupboard. There’s every kind of powder including the pink season. I added that to give some color and make the sandwich pretty to look at. “ He finishes triumphantly with an innocent grin.

You are touched . Truly. But-

“Pink stuff?” “Wonwoo-ssi just how much of the pink stuff did you put there?”

“A lot’ he was staring at you with a cocked brow , offended you would question his cooking skills like this. 

“Wonwoo-ssi-’

“Please, just call me Wonwoo”

“Alright Wonwoo, that pink stuff- you air quote is actually salt. Himalayan salt.”

You wait for one beat. Two beats.

“Ohhhh— “ he draws out at the realization of a look of mortification coming at him.

His eyes scrunched up cutely, you catch his adorable cheeks bunch up and you want to comfort him like you would baby Chuul when she was this upset. Except he was no baby.

So you resort to laughing. 

You are in awe of this man who you try so hard not to like is slowly working his way up to being a friend. A good friend even.

After a good five minutes of shared laughter that trickles to small squeaks , a small air of awkwardness hung in the air.

But this time he is prepared to counter that.

“Can I ask you about what went down the other day?”

“When?”

“I have seen the tabloids Y/N. What went wrong with your choreographer?”

Oh. You did figure he would eventually ask, you didn’t expect it this suddenly though.

“Do you want my version or the truth?”

‘But isn’t your version the truth?” You freeze, your eyes misting up immediately.

Seeing your face he tentatively reaches out, and  seeing no resistance from your side, rests a palm on your knee. Your knee was beginning to heat up.

“ I- I did nothing wrong you know?” “Trust me Y/N I know that.”

You are touched at a strangers' choice to believe you over your own mother. 

As a child you were the quiet one while your brother relentlessly bullied you. Of course your mother sided with him. This is the first time someone wants to listen to your side of the argument.

 Before you ask him to explain , he beats you to it, “I know you hate dance challenges, your body language screamed as much but you did that to give your bandmate my autograph didn’t you? S-sorin right? Your eyes widened. “Oh my you know her name? She is going to be so ecstatic about this I have to tell her right now.”

“See? Even now you are thinking of ways to make someone else happy. So tell me what really went down?” You recount the whole situation to him, opting to leave out Chuul’s name and her dancing being the whole reason, you don’t have to give up her identity like that. 

“And I know that’s what bring the fans but - I-” “You know if you are uncomfortable about something, you have the right to state your reasons not to do it. “ He states gently," The company cannot just force you .”

You snort out a laugh . Oh this fool. If only it were that simple

You say no more opting to end this conversation there. No need to get things all mushy now.

Not wanting to delve more into the awkward air, Wonwoo cleared his voice and you knew he was going to bring up another topic

He talks about his upcoming tour and you listen in awe as he describes their travel around the world.

One perk you had hoped to get as an idol was to do world tours, in hopes of traveling around and seeing new places. 

Unfortunately, Blush Girls was too nugu to make it past the small company curse. Delaware was also very low on funds, often shamelessly resorting to request you to get your way through some potential investors. You were numb at this point,a bin used by men, to get bills thrown at your face only to be dipped away by Delaware as part of the compromise you’d made with them. 

‘So, what does flying feel like?”

‘Well I can’t help you there, I don’t have wings Y/N.” he chuckles softly.

“No, I was walking about an aircraft, how does it feel to fly in the clouds?”

You see the small look of shock before he instantly wipes it away “Yo-you’ve never been on a plane before?” 

You shrug dismissively. There were small concerts and festivals in Japan you could have gone to. Establishing yourself in the Japanese market would have given you a leg up for sure to come out of nugudom. You worked overtime to provide the funds for Delaware, you were sure of that, your body and throat ached to fill the void. But greed triumphs over integrity you suppose. You could only watch in sadness as men dipped into the hard work you invested in and left you even more void, shallow soul and mind.

Sorin watched from the window as her celebrity crush, the man that filled her childhood bedrooms, sat there on the park bench with the dopiest grin she’s ever seen staring at her unnie.

 It’s not fair. You didn’t even know him like she did. She was the one who gushed to you about how much she was sure she was going to marry Jeon Wonwoo one day. And now there sat the man of her dreams, a palm pressed against his cheek, staring at you. 

You who had lied and said there was ‘absolutely nothing’ happening between the both of you. Of course you’d get the man too. Just like everything in Sorin’s life she wished to have.

After a night of easy conversation and shared laughs, you sneak back into your dorm , waving goodbye to the boy slowly worming himself into your heart. 

You hoped everyone was asleep, rehearsals started early tomorrow and Ampers had quite the mood these days. You didn’t want to poke the bear with overtired girls at the dance practices.

But you were wrong.

The door is forcefully opened by a livid Sorin who scornfully looks at you as you do your walk of shame back to your bed.

‘Slut” you overhear her mumbling. Your heart sank. Who taught this child that word?

Ever since she was denied the Music Bank position her behavior had spiraled, and you understood teenage angst but when met with open disdain, you hoped for a chance at grace. 

Nothing much changes after that. Wonwoo and you exchange texts on your phone although you space out your replies from a day to a week. 

You cannot lead him on but the temptation of texting him is so strong that you cannot ignore it either. 

The hate online from netizens die down a little bit. Soon you are no longer the poster child for bullying owing to the actual controversy of plagiarism from “Chorstify’. Good days were coming.

 Or so you thought.

The Mama Awards rolled out , and for the first time in two years since debut, Blush Girls had received an invitation. First time for a Delaware Labels group, and no thanks to the immense publicity this year has bestowed upon you. 

Wonwoo texts you a ‘see you there’ even before the announcement and you are even more confused. How did he know?  Was he perhaps involved in Blush Girls getting an invitation to an award show destined to be swept off by big labels?

You sigh. For an ‘acquaintance’ he sure did a lot more than you would have expected someone to. You should pay him back, you think. No one does favors for free. But how do you pay a rich million dollar earning idol? And how do you pay at all when the company refused to pay your group, heaping a bigger trainee debt? You only know one way of payback that you had learned from your mother- giving up your body. 

“Men only want one thing” your mother had warned you. 

Hair and makeup went quickly for you giving you more time to loiter around and hopefully catch a glance of ‘Big Cobra’, your childhood celebrity crush. The only dream artist you actually hoped to collaborate with. When Delaware did accept you,you had hoped you’d be given a rapper position but one look at your visuals and your soft voice, they had laughed at your request, calling you unfit for such a position. 

You had been eavesdropping your manager’s conversation with your idol, giddy with the prospect of him dancing to one of your earlier songs. What an honor! Except- 

 “Who’s Yoonha?” Cobra ssi bellows out through the other door. Yoonha also had big admiration for him. You wouldn’t actually mind if she was the one who got to do this dance challenge with him. 

There’s a slight crumpling of papers rustling and you can only imagine Yoonha’s face card being shown to Cobra. What follows next, changes the trajectory of your vision for the idol of your dreams.

“Nope, she’s too ugly.”

“But she is such a huge fan of yours, this would lift her spirits.” Your manager protested on her behalf.

“Everyone is a huge fan of me Dongyun-ssi . Give me a pretty woman. Don’t you have a Y/N in your group? Give me someone that looks beautiful. Or get me a younger one. I need to establish myself in today’s generation before they forget me.”

You feel no elation at hearing your name spoken in such praise. Only pure disgust.

“How about Sorin? Here, this is her ”

“No she’s too ugly too. I want the pretty one. She looks youthful enough. What is her name?” 

She’s Y/N but she has been punished by the agency for her recent remarks, she is not allowed to film challenges till one month is up.” “Fine, I’ll do it with the other two chicks here but remember, you owe me a big one. I happen to gain nothing from this since I cannot dance with the visual.”

Over your dead body. No way were you going to allow a grown man who’d openly demanded for a child 20 years his junior , to collaborate with the other members he had insulted. No way in hell. 

So you resort to snitching on him and telling Yoonha and Sorin to avoid the dance challenge.

To your utter amazement, Yoonha and Sorin defied your orders to not dance with Big Cobra ,instead calling you out on jealousy. What jealousy? If only they understood.

As Seventeen takes the stage, your mind struggles to focus. Whatever happened a few moments prior backstage has soured your mood. You knew you’d get in trouble with your company later for all the bad reactions you were showcasing to several cameras but you didn’t fucking care. The disgust you feel was too intense to mask.

A hand crept up into your peripheral vision and you catch a glimpse of Eunsae watching you with concern etched on her face.

“You know unnie, I know you are the leader and it's part of  your role to take care of us. But sometimes, I wish you’d tell us too. I am not a child anymore. I know everyone around us are monsters. I just don't get why you have to bear this all alone. Something happened backstage and that’s clearly made you upset. Please tell me what happened. I thought you were happy BigCobra ssi would agree to do a dance challenge with us. Your face shows otherwise  ”

Sometimes you don’t understand why you kept a lot of things from your members. At least the older ones. You had lived your entire life being an adult in the situation and wanting to shelter your members from all of it, but these ladies were all growing up. They were not children anymore. At least not Eunsae.

So you spill. 

By the time you are done recounting the story to Eunsae, you see her face has darkened, disgust apparent in her face too. 

“He did what now?” she interjected.

You say nothing, your silence speaking far more, conforming your thoughts.

Eunsae had biblical anger displayed on her face. Her jaw clenched tight with anger, her fists tightly holding on your wrist. You felt the same way.

“And you still let them go ahead  unnie?” she pressed.

“I mean they didn’t really give me an option . Yoonha was convinced I was jealous of forbidding her.” 

Eunsa rolled her eyes at that.

“Typical Yoonha” she muttered.

The next day Twitter went viral with a picture of Eunsae’s rolled eyes and you whispering in her ear amidst Seventeen’s special stage

Typical media and fan behavior, making noise out of nothing.

But this time the hate wasn’t just directed at you, your bandmate was included. Very quickly a warning was issued by your company threatening strong actions against malicious rumors against your labelmate and you. The last scandal you want to be involved with is fighting a large fandom of a popular boy group.

Only if Eunsae knew you had to sacrifice a part of you to get that post up and running up on the world wide web.

Chuseok holidays rolled out and while everyone went home, you found yourself alone. Your mother had claimed she was taking your father to a hospital, there is no way she can house you. 

“Your meal plans cost extra," she said, chucking you as just another burden.

With the girls gone, Victor was in charge of keeping you company and you wanted no opportunity to share the same air as him.

Maybe you could surprise your mother, perhaps with a surprise meal you'd cook. She wouldn’t turn her own daughter away would she?

You wished you hadn’t taken your own advice because on opening the room to your childhood home, you are greeted by the sight that will forever be imprinted in your memories.

Your mother wrapped around Hyangyuck, your PD. While your sick father was in the other room, blissfully unaware.

“Y/N wait- it’s not like that.” your mother’s face paled as she stammered out an apology.

You were done. Honestly this explains why you got selected despite your lack of talents anyway. Your mother had probably gotten her way around Hyangyuck with her connections to secure your spot. The realization burned.

You didn’t know who your own married mother was..

Not knowing what to do , where to go, you stand at the crossroads .  The dorm was empty, Victor was insufferable, and home—home was a twisted illusion. A sudden beep pulled you from your thoughts. A text from Wonwoo. It was the sixth message he’d sent in a week. Peering down at the screen, you read his invitation: “Want to go hang out? If you’re in the mood.”

You scoffed, not in the mood for anything. But the thought of spending time at his apartment—away from this mess—was tempting.

Lucky for you, Wonwoo was accepting of that too.

You had been looking for a chance to repay him back for all his kindness anyway

Wonwoo’s apartment was just as you’d imagined it. Cute and demure. Very minimalistic with the  exception of the kitchen- stacked with all the fancy kitchen equipment you could ever dream of. ‘Mingyu’s sanctuary’ he’d called it.  You chuckled to yourself, remembering Wonwoo’s disastrous sandwich-making fiasco. He was definitely not the chef in this partnership.

Wonwoo offers you some clothes-  probably an ex’s. A shorter someone because they fall ankle length. Wonwoo takes a good look at you and pursues his lips.

“Stop laughing!” you called out, feigning annoyance.

“I didn’t laugh,” he protested, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed him.

“Your face says otherwise!”

As if that grants him the excuse, peals of laughter ring out , his palms doing nothing to stifle the obvious joy in his voice.

After the laughter drowns out you take a good look at him. Wonwoo is sitting by the fireplace, palm pressed to his cheek, elbow resting on the arm rest, softly glancing at you in a look of pure adoration. A look you can’t decipher . You couldn’t help but wonder why someone would look at you that way. 

A confident strut to your otherwise beating heart you walk over to where he sat. Leaning down to meet his gaze, you turned on the sultry charm you didn’t know you possessed, and his uncertainty morphs into something akin to eagerness. Although you have never given him the inkling that you do like him, he was sure he did. Anyone with eyes could see that. But this forward action from your side for once? Very welcome in his sight. 

Leaning closer to him, a hairbreadth away, you press your lips against his.

For one second nothing happens and you tense. But Wonwoo bridges the gap before you back away, an arm around your waist pulling you impossibly closer to him, cradling your waist. Instinctively, you jerk again, tickled at the sensation. But he’s quicker, placing the other arm around your left hip, now in a lock against your hip , drawing you closer and onto his lap. You don’t fight it, immediately settling onto his knees and gliding over to his thighs, brought forward by Wonwoo’ quick hands. Hands that had moved to your ear, his finger fondling with the star earring dangling from your right ear. Your hands seemed to have a mind of their own too, hands edging dangerously close to his chest. A beat later you place it against him, reveling in the hitch in his voice, fueled to take it further and pressing even harder against him.

Wonwoo shyly asks for entrance and you grant it to him. A dangerous thing to do because the next second you are at his mercy. He dominates the kiss and you have to ground yourself against his shirt, tugging on it impossibly hard. Any whimper you have is swallowed by Wonwoo’s strong tongue game.

A kiss he very much enjoys till his lost thoughts come back to him a minute or two later, and realization dawns.

He pulls back first leaving you suspended in a swirl of emotions—sadness mixed with a tinge of regret. His eyes searched yours, studying your expression for any sign of interest, but he found only confusion.

“I am sorry-”

“Why did you kiss me, Y/N?” His voice was quiet, almost vulnerable.

“ I wanted to pay you back?” your voice ringing on hollowness.

 He tips his head. 

“Pay me back? How? Why” His brow furrowed in confusion.

The silence stretched, wrapping around you both like an uncomfortable shroud. You felt the weight of your own words, the lingering truth of how you’d tried to manipulate the kindness he had shown you.

“So that kiss-”

“Look, it’s late in the evening Y/N, you were already upset when you came in and It’s my fault I shouldn't’” “No it’s not yours it’s mine” “Why don’ we sleep on it, hmm? Maybe after a good nights rest we can talk it out. How about that?” There is a small smile on his face but you’re not blind, it’s forced.

He leads you to his bedroom and ushers you around it.

“If you need anything, I’ll be in the next room.”

“Where are you going?”

“”I’ll be right next door Y/n. In Mingyu’s room. He’s not home anyway.”

 “I am sorry I took advantage of your kindness. I know you don’t like me like that and I-”

“Wait, do you think I don’t like you?” he asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone. “Y/n, I like you. Too much. But I’m scared you don’t.”

The admission hung in the air, thick with unspoken feelings. The silence turned awkward, and he finally backed away, breaking the spell. “I’ll take Mingyu’s room. You can have my room.”

And he leaves you, with an empty heart. Truly the daughter of your mother as much you both would like to deny it. Whoring yourself out for a place to spend the night, seeking validation in the most twisted ways. You spend the whole night tossing and turning, your brain won’t shut up, your mind is not at ease. 

You didn’t sleep a wink last night, fabric bunched up under your uncouth sleeping habits. Alert at the sounds of pots and pans clucking you spring up and make it to the kitchen, where you get to behold Wonwoo in all his morning glory, bleached hair sticking up in every odd direction, face marred with several lines creased by the pillows. 

"Good Morning” he calls out cheerfully, and you jump a little, you didn't think he was a morning person to be honest. 

You call back and exchange pleasantries, still over the edge of what happened last night. 

“Coffee?” 

You shake your head. He shrugs and follows you to the breakfast table.

“I ordered some breakf-”

“Oh, I am not hungry .”

He looks a little annoyed, like he wants to say something but he thinks the best of it and for that you are grateful.

You watch again, as he eats his pancake, a part of your stomach grumbling at you for denying it food. Meanwhile you sip mindlessly on the coffee, disgusted at its bitterness. After breakfast, a blanket of thorn air shrouds around you both and you sit basking in it, watching Wonwoo clear the table, noiselessly wiping down the countertop.

He watches you fiddle with your thumbs and sighs, coming closer to stand next to you.

You can’t keep quiet any longer. You jump right onto it. “Did I do something wrong? Did you not want it? Oh no, you didn’t want it, did you? I just—you had that look and I—”

“Y/N, stop.” Wonwoo clicked his palm against yours, his grip firm but gentle, preventing you from delving further into panic. “You are spiraling .”

“I did like it, alright? Too much. But this isn’t how I wanted it to happen. We should both feel it.”

“Oh, that’s alright. You can take as much as you want from me. What I say doesn’t matter at all.” you softly speak out. 

The shock on his face revealed the depth of your words. His eyes look around your face, waiting for a punked moment. Nothing comes out except your earnesty.

“Okay, we need to talk.”

Still not letting go of your wrist, he carefully led you through his apartment, eventually guiding you onto his bed.

“Sit.” His command was gentle yet firm, and you plopped down on the edge of the bed. 

He sat across from you, eyes intense, leveling you with a look that felt like it could pierce through your defenses.

“What you just did—you can’t just do that, Y/N. That’s not how this works. I want you, and I know you know that. But this—it can’t happen unless you feel it too.”

You remained mute, lost in a sea of conflicting emotions.

“When we like someone, it’s a two way street. Unless both parties enjoy it, you shouldn’t do it. Every time I see you, my heart races- he reaches out, placing your palm against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingers. “I get butterflies. You make me want to work hard to earn your love. You’re smart, kind, and beautiful. Sure, you can be a little aloof, but I find that really cute about you. I can’t do anything with you unless you feel it too. It should never be about me alone. You matter too, Y/N.”

He insists, earnest eyes boring into yours, to drive the point inside.

Words you had never heard before, words that felt foreign. When did you ever matter? Who had you ever mattered to?

You were suddenly transported back to that sunny day when your brother left. All four feet of you clinging to his leg, pleading for him not to go. At fifteen, you had endured enough emotional abuse from your mother, desperate for him to take you along.

Kicking his foot ,he had sent you tumbling to the ground, and you watched him walk away, backpack slung over his shoulder, leaving you alone. That was never the action of someone who did something to someone who ‘mattered’. 

“Which is why I want to ask, Y/N—do you feel anything for me at all?”

He inched closer, his gaze locked onto yours, a mix of urgency and vulnerability shimmering in his dark eyes. “I need to know,” he whispered. “Because every time I’m around you, it’s like I can’t breathe, and I don’t want to ignore what this could be. It’s eating me alive.”

His hands fidgeted nervously, and he ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain some composure. “I don’t want to pressure you, but... if you feel even a fraction of what I do, please just say something. It’s been driving me crazy, and I just can’t hold it in anymore.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and he leaned in slightly, searching your eyes for any hint of an answer. “Just be honest with me. Please.”

You-

Your instincts screamed to run away. This level of vulnerability was foreign to you. But your heart demanded you stay.

“When you’re near me, my heart—” you softly whisper, like the words feel foreign to you, staring into his dark, shiny orbs. “It races too. I feel something. I can’t explain it, but there’s something.”

Initially, you had dismissed it as mere attraction. But the more you saw him, the more you realized you felt it? You felt this pull, a gentle tug in your heart that he was here. That he genuinely liked you for you, and that was honestly so confusing. Why would he ever? But also, you liked it. You liked being seen for who you really were, flaws and all, without the masks you usually wore. It was a strange comfort, this connection you were building.

“Please be patient with me. I know I want it, but I don’t exactly know what I want. I had nobody to look up to and learn what love feels like.”

“Honestly, Y/N, if it’s with you, I can always wait, baby. You are worth the wait.”

You froze.

“Oh no, did I say something triggering? I am sorr—”

“What did you just call me?” Your voice quivered, the weight of his words hitting you hard.

“Baby?”

One tear fell, then another, until a torrent of tears cascaded down your cheeks.

“Eomma please, just one hug. All my friends have mom's who hug them. Why can’t you hug me atleast once?” Your eight year old self had come out of the quiz as the only one who had all the answers and had received three gold stars. Holding all three gold stars in huge triumph you held out your report card in hopes that she would put it up near the refrigerator and give you a hug, that being your only demand.Except your mother had thrown the kitchen towel angrily across the table, slammed  a fist on the table and-

“Not now Y/N, I don’t have time for your kiddy games.”

“Earth to Y/N.”

“No one’s ever called me that before.” you finally state. 

“What? Baby?” he recounts.

Yes.

“That’s impossible. What about your parent”- you shook your head fiercely causing him to change his tactics.

“Was that why you were crying love?”

You shakily nod. Is this what catharsis felt like? Crying but empowering?

“Aww love” he cooed. “No one has to endure that alone you know.”

“How about we have some breakfast and then we cuddle and sleep? Your eyes tell you haven’t slept a wink last night”

“I’m not hungry.”

“All right then. I have a plan.

“ I am listening.”

“Let’s cuddle.”

“What is that supposed to do?”

“It is stress relieving. Trust me on this.”

“Are you a cuddler Wonu?”

He looked a bit embarrassed to admit but the answer was there in his actions- crossed out arms and pinkening cheeks. He takes a defensive stance in his next words, A cocky eyebrow perked up. “Maybe? Mingyu gives the best hugs”. He looks off in the distance as he says it, like reminiscing a past memory. 

Lazy grin in, you expect him to unfold. After a squirming session of three seconds total, he comes clean. “Well yesterday I was a little upset and Mingyu was there. And he- well- you know how he is. He gives the best hugs alright! Don’t judge me. If you had to be smothered in his arms you’d know how safe it is! All I am saying is, we could do the same thing. You’ll get to enjoy what a real cuddle session looks like ” 

Never would you have imagined a tall, big man absolutely folding himself at the prospect of recounting a great cuddle session with his ‘homie’. Can’t say you are not enamored though. 

You watch fondly as he fixes the pillows and settles down.

“Come here, he croons out, arm extended and invitingly calling you over. You crawl over the sheets, ready to settle down and hug him, like you’d hug Chuul when she came to your bed at night after a nightmare or when the homesickness hits too hard. 

“What are you doing?”

“Uuhh hugging you?” Were you doing that wrong too? 

“No I don’t mean you hug me , I want to be the big spoon.” 

“What’s a  spoon got to do with hugs?”

His mouth opens wide as he stares at you in shock. Seriously, what is happening?

Wonwoo manhandles you to mold you into the position he wants you to be in, on your side while he engulfs you from the back. The heat radiation at his proximity from your back and the warmth omitting from your heart was cocooning you from both sides.

Wonwoo’s body is solid and comforting, the best combination right now. You softly breath in his familiar scent, the musk of a strong cologne. 

“Is this okay?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face. “It feels nice.”

He chuckled softly, and the sound reverberated through you. His fingers found their way to your waist, gently tracing circles on your skin. The simple gesture sent shivers down your spine, and you leaned back into him, craving more of that warmth.

“See? This isn’t so bad,” he teased, his breath tickling your ear.

“No, it’s really nice,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly.

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the weight of the day melting away as you enjoyed the intimacy of the moment. Wonwoo’s arms felt like a protective cocoon around you, and you found yourself relaxing more with every passing second.

“Just so you know,” he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity, “I’d do anything to keep you close like this. Just come to me , when you have bad days like this . I want to be the one who gets to hear your complaints and worries. I want to be your rock. I want to start loving you , and to show you what love feels like. It’s not the worst feeling in the world, to be vulnerable.”

His words sent your heart racing, and you turned slightly to catch his gaze. The look in his eyes was a mixture of warmth and determination, and you felt your heart swell. In that moment, everything else faded away—your worries, your past—and all that mattered was the warmth of his embrace and the connection building between you.

“Thank you for everything Wonwoo,” you whispered, feeling grateful and vulnerable all at once.

“Always,” he replied, tightening his hold around you, making you feel cherished and safe in his arms.

You both wake up around midday. Wonwoo pecks your nose and leaves to fend off to do some errands leaving you back on the bed, lethargic at the lack of food catching up to you. 

( TW: Eating Disorder mentioned, unhealthy diet habits mentioned . Reader has an EXTREMELY fucked up mindset against food. Be warned)

He comes back carrying take out in his hand. Great, in your haste you had forgotten to ask him if he had eaten at all. How pretty selfish of you. ‘Typical Y/N’ your mom’s snarky voice entered your head. ‘Always thinking about no one else but herself’.

You watch him unpack the food, setting aside a grand feast of chunky beef ghalbi, a crimson shade of kimchi and white rice sprinkled with furikake. The smell of succulent meat permeates the air and a deep part of you craves for it. It’s been over a year since you last allowed your body to have the luxury to indulge in expensive meat. You watch as he neatly arranges the containers and draws out two plates from the kitchen, along with two wine glasses.  You hope to God he doesn’t ask you to eat with him, you have no active lies to cook up, it’s clear he’s caught onto the pattern. He pops open the wine bottle, fizzing out the soda and you watch as he carefully pours two glasses of wine onto the awaiting cups. 

He beckons you over to the table as he slowly lowers himself , expectantly awaiting your arrival any minute. Not wanting to disrupt his anticipation, you saunter over to him. Maybe you could drink a glass of wine with him and call it a day.

You should know by now Wonwoo was always a step ahead. He pulls out a chair for you , tilting his head expecting your rear to make yourself comfortable and dive into the feast ahead. 

“I already a-” "Sit down, Y/N." His voice is assertive — a rare tone coming from someone as soft-spoken as Wonwoo.

You gulp a bit hoping to save some time and he knocks against your knee pit effectively sending you toppling backwards and into his strong arms. They wind around you and he places a small nip on the lobe of your right ear, nuzzling his nose on your chin.

You watch as his right hand takes out a pair of chopsticks dipping into a plump slice of beef, immersing it in a thick paste of soy red sauce and bringing the meat closer to your mouth. That was held shut. 

 Tight.

You shake your head avoiding the tantalizing piece of meat set in front of you to tempt you into succumbing and eating something.

“Y/N please eat” You shake your head again. You can’t. Why doesn’t he understand?

“I am not hungry” “I call bullshit love, you haven’t eaten anything and your gurgling stomach is testimony to that, no- c-covering it won’t hide those noises , love.”  He teeters between a dominant tone and fits of chuckles at your hurried attempts to muffle the mighty roars your stomach makes at the sight of your favorite food.

“Remember you are nothing more than your face, you are just a caricature of a persona I drew up for you, without this body to assist , you are worthless. So avoid eating at all costs. Your body pays for all the bills here so work hard to remain thin. You got me pig?”When assigning different roles, you were the only one who was given a visual role, the company calling everyone else ugly just because they had failed their weekly check ups. 

During trainee days you were all subjected to the most humiliating ways to check weights . At the end of each week, the CEO would arrive with his side goons for weekly reviews and gift the winner with the lowest weight. In a  truly fucked up mindset, all of you competed for that gift. It was only after your closest friend Julie was taken out of the program by her mother who scorned the system, you realized how young teenagers were suffering from unhealthy eating habits. At the price of your body, you were able to find a leeway in the contract putting a stop to these weight surveys on kids. They still had strict diets but their weight was not monitored as strictly like you had feared. You watched with glee as baby Chuul and Sorin start gaining some color in their cheeks .

The price to pay was Yoonha abhorring you when the roles were given out and she was considered over the weight limit to for the standard rate for a visual (still underweight on a doctor’s scales). That was the day her hate for you grew, she believed you played this to take this opportunity from her. If only she knew the sacrifice you made for her to live out what you wanted to. 

There’s a voice in your head repeatedly warning you to not fall for your cravings and a voice outside it beseeching you to just eat it. 

“Y/N just open your mouth okay? I will feed you, come on now just say ahh. “ You shake your head violently, trying to trickle down from his strong grip. He’s taking none of your nonsense tonight.

“It’s just one bite love. One bite. That’s all. If you don’t like it you don’t have to eat and I won’t force you. “ Yeah it’s just one bite.

Except-

“One bite is all it takes for you to lose the image the group is built on”

The voices in your head were winning this round . 

“Y/N “ He worriedly calls out.

“I can’t. They said I can’t” You finally state.

“Who said you can’t eat baby?”

You melt at the nickname and he smirks against your shoulder.

“Baby, listen to me“ You turn around to look at his eyes, rounded and worry etched at the edges of his soft glance.

“Why can’t you eat baby?” You continue to stare back at him.

‘Are you allergic to meat?” You shake your head.

“Do you not like this?” You shake again. You can’t lie about that.

“When was the last time you ate and be honest with me please”.He implores softly. You can’t help but shed a tear at his soft heartedness. All this harsh exterior but you have yet to meet another man who’s shown this much affection to you.

You refuse to give an answer. It’s probably for the best you think.

Sighing at your silence he shifts you to be a little more comfortable.

“Listen to me. This body you have, all it asks is for a little respect. Just do the bare minimum: feed it something to keep you nourished and moving forward. How are you supposed to make progress if all you do is starve? One bite never harmed anyone, but going several lacks will definitely take a toll.”

You see no lie in his statement despite the several voices of protests in your head.

It’s been four days since you had eaten a bite after the cake you ate last for Mishal’s birthday live. You had offered to throw it out before the staff did, except you and Mishal snuck into a bathroom stall and scarfed the whole thing down, greedily feasting on red velvet gooey deliciousness. 

‘Here just look at the food. Don’t you want to smell it?”

Your eyes watered again at the senses flooding your mouth and eyes, there was an aroma wafting in the air, the glisten of the red beef against the twilight hue percolating through his high rise widows. Placed before you, the dish glistens with saucy goodness, white sesame seeds scattered artfully across the surface, while green scallions are peppered around the edges. You can’t help but yearn for it, your hunger intensifying with every glance. Ignoring the blaring alarms wailing in your head, you finally dive forward and take a nibble of the beef.

Succulent meat falls right off the bone and gets swallowed by your mouth wholly, the caramelized glaze dribbling down your chin.  Wonwoo delicately wipes it away and you moan involuntarily as the taste hits the roof of your mouth.

Wonwoo lets out a throaty chuckle, opting to peck your cheek when a warm blush overtakes your face . You hadn’t meant to do that. 

“That good eh?”

You simply nod, opening your mouth like a baby bird for one more bite pouting at him when he takes too long in your opinion.

‘Coming pretty baby” 

With his tender loving care the hunger in your stomach slowly ebbs away but streams of tears flow down heartily.

 No one has ever fed you as far as you can remember. Your bitchy mother certainly didn’t. Your father was prevented from it. You had always craved an affection so fickle as being fed that when the first person to feed you was a boy who you had sworn to close your heart to, you couldn't help the small cracks that formed. 

Your bites had turned into full on gobbles , hunger overtaking your senses . Seemingly , Wonwoo didn’t seem to mind continuing to feed you despite multiple attempts of objection from your end.

“I am eating too pretty girl , don’t mind me feeding you. Look at your round cheeks filled with food , I can’t help but admire your -“

Ignoring the temptation he comes forward and places a long smooch on your cheek drawing out the long ‘mwah ‘ sound , hoping that with this you can understand just how much he’s in love with you and cares for you .

Your eyes close at the tender gesture, the tears still ebbing. You cannot be bothered to care and wipe them away , the catharsis of just letting go and enjoying something you had denied for so long brings euphoria into your life .

Maybe if you analysed it,  anyone could guess that a part of you was regressing at the affection of being fed by someone else , your mouth still conditioned to opening up every time he brought a bite close to you ,despite the knowledge that you are way over your limits 

When all is said and done , he slouches on the chair taking you with him , causing you to slump on him like a dead weight . You try to take this opportunity to save yourself and heave out the food before the effects of your gluttony shows on your face but he’s quicker than you , bringing his legs around yours, wrapping them around your shin and preventing any methods of escape you had in mind to empty the content of food. 

“Just stay here for a little while more love “

You don’t argue this time after debating with the voices. . It’s the least you could do for your precious body - to feed and nourish overworked organs . The only fodder they had these days was the stress you caused.

You stick around for a little more time in Wonwoo’s apartment, still not having left the secluded space of his arms. Nobody could ever prepare you for how much of a yapper Wonwoo really was. There you sat, on his lap, filled to the brim with food you loved, watching endearingly as the man you were slowly and quickly catching feelings for, filled every second with his deep rumbly voice talking about his childhood. “And we took Bohyuck to the hospital and that's when he knew shit was up. He confessed right before they injected him, serves him right for lying to us and making Eomma cry. I was worried too-”

Before he could continue with his brother's antics, the door opens and you see someone emerge from one of the rooms. Not really comfortable around others, much less a man such as thee Kim Mingyu, you jump up and quickly bow, your manners never forgotten. 

Wonwoo rushes to follow suit, standing up as Mingu rounds the corner of the countertop making his way to get a  glass of water. You are a little miffed. Mingyu has not acknowledged your presence in the slightest, choosing to ignore your bow or small ‘hi’.

Instead he takes one look at the night suit you were wearing, furthers his head to look at Wonwoo and ask, “Woozi really?” and turns around to leave pronto.

Wonwoo, as though sensing your uncomfort, rubs his chin on your head and tells you to ‘ignore him, he’s just cranky’. 

The dark feeling settles down in you, that you’ve done something wrong. You can’t place what exactly but if Wonwoo tells you to ignore it, what better to than just shrug it off and move forward?

The next week passes off as some of the best moments in your life. Wonwoo, you were beginning to realize was an absolute sweetheart of a person.

Maybe if you sat down for a single second and pondered, you’d reflect that you were moving too fast too quick, one minute you had started as fake dates, the next minute your heart knew no endless joy like the euphoric high you were riding now in the attention of a boy who has stolen every waking second of your thought.

Wonwoo pampered you like no other, in a way you didn’t think was possible for someone to take care of you. Diets be damned, rules be fucked, under the canopy of his house you both camped in a safe haven basking in each others presence. Night times were your favorite part of the day, you loved being spooned and coddled. Wonwoo, had big muscular hands that wrapped around you, always pulling you close to his chest, the best cacophony of sounds that could push you to blissful sleep .

If not for the demons that rang out in the sanctuary of your mind, riddling you unable to sleep, paralyzing your thoughts and stripping you off peace.

A.N: my lap crashed y'all! but I wanted to post this fic as my birthday gift and i made it somehow wohoo.. ignore the typos lol, i'll come back and edit. i was racing against time.

if you like the fic please comment, reblog or send an ask! comment below to be added to the taglist

taglist- @skzbangchanniee @everythingboutkpop @fxckingshame @ariananotgrandeee @veryveryveryberry

[pupsmailbox]

SCENE︰EMO ID PACK

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PRONOUNS ⌇　awesome/awesome. ay/aym. bark/bark. bi/bim. bite/bite. black/black. bling/blingee. blood/blood. bone/bone. bow/bow. brace/bracelet. bright/bright. bright/colour. byte/byte. cat/cat. cata/catatonic. ce/cer. check/checkered. chem/chem. cir/circut. color/color. computer/computer. cool/cool. cos/cos. creepy/pasta. cringe/cringe. cry/cry. cut/cut. dead/dead. death/death. die/die. dino/dino. emo/emo. emoticon/emoticon. epic/epic. ev/ev. exe/exe. ey/em. eye/strain. fang/fang. fringe/fringe. game/game. gamer/gamer. ghost/ghost. gir/gir. girr/girr. glit/glitter. glitter/glitter. gloom/gloom. glow/glow. glow/stick. gore/gore. grr/grr. gun/gun. gut/gut. hor/horror. hx/hxm. hyper/hyper. hyperpop/hyperpop. internet/internet. it/it. ix/ix. kan/kandi. kand/kandi. kandi/kandi. kill/kill. kit/kit. knife/knife. lix/lix. loud/loud. luv/luv. mask/mask. meme/meme. meow/meow. mew/mew. mlp/mlp. mon/monster. mspaint/mspaint. music/music. neo/neon. neon/neon. net/net. nostalgia/nostalgia. nya/nya. nya/nyan. nyan/cat. old/old. online/online. pika/pikachu. pix/pix. pixel/pixel. plur/plur. pony/pony. pop/pop. pop/tart. queen/queen. quiet/quiet. rain/rain. rainbow/rainbow. random/random. rave/rave. rawr/rawr. raz/razor. red/red. rei/reina. scene/scene. scene/scenester. scenecore/scenecore. scream/scream. shx/hxr. si/silent. silly/silly. skull/skull. slash/slash. slice/slice. sound/sound. spi/spider. spook/spook. stab/stab. stick/sticker. sticker/sticker. stud/stud. swag/swags/swagself. thxy/thxm. troll/troll. tutu/tutu. txt/txt. vamp/vamp. video/game. virtual/virtual. vocaloid/vocaloid. web/web. windows/window. x3/x3. x]/x]. xD/xD. xe/xem. xey/xem. xP/xP. xy/xyr. youtube/youtube. ze/zem. ze/zer. ze/zero. zi/zim. zim/zim. zom/zombie. zomb/zomb.

[gothcsz]

jealous possessive javi?

💖

tags: f!reader, smut, javi cheats on you, unprotected p in v sex (this is fiction but be safe irl), fingering, angst, jealous and possessive javi, unbeta'd, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx. ~ 5.1k w/c / gif cred

a/n: toxic!javi stans, this is for us 🙂‍↕️ kat keep your writings short challenge (FAILED) hope you like this my sweet anon 🖤

You’ve been broken up for ten weeks now. Two months and ten agonizing days. Every minute since has felt like a slow burn, as if each breath without him is a reminder of the emptiness he left behind. You thought you’d have been over him by now— Javier Peña wasn’t supposed to have this kind of hold on you, not after everything he did.

Not after you walked into his office that night, a surprise dinner in hand, only to find him fucking his secretary. The image still sears behind your eyes— the slick, desperate way they moved together while you stood frozen in the doorway, a witness to your own heartbreak.

The signs had always been there, even from the first date. The way his eyes lingered a little too long on the waitress or how he’d get that restless look in his eyes when you weren’t around. But damn, he had a way of making you feel like you were the only one.

Like every glance, every touch, was meant for you and you alone. He had a gift for making you feel special, all while hiding his cock’s insatiable appetite behind a charming smile.

Now, you feel raw, like maybe it was your fault. Maybe you weren’t enough to keep him satisfied. Maybe you didn’t do enough in bed, didn’t keep his interest, didn’t hold onto him like you should have. The betrayal made you feel small, made you question every moment, every kiss, every whispered promise. It should’ve made walking away easier, catching him like that. It should’ve been enough to erase him from your mind. But it wasn’t.

And it’s taken this long— two months and ten days— of wallowing, of replaying the betrayal, to finally push you out of your haze. Tonight, something shifts. Your friend set you up with someone from her work, and after much prodding, you said yes.

Tonight, you’ve decided to put yourself back out there. Maybe if you let someone else touch you, if you let someone else in, you’ll finally be able to push Javier out of your mind for good.

It’s been radio silence ever since. After you caught him in his office, the scene unfolded like something out of a bad movie. His face went from shock to panic in a split second, scrambling to pull up his pants, stumbling over excuses. “She meant nothing,” he stammered, running after you with that flustered, desperate look. “It was a mistake!” But you didn’t stop, didn’t even give him a second glance. You barely held back the tears as you hurled the containers of food at him, the dinner you’d lovingly prepared splattering down the hallway, leaving a messy trail as you stormed toward the stairwell. No way in hell were you waiting for the elevator. Six flights of stairs felt like nothing compared to the pit in your stomach, and the thought of giving him even one more second to sweet talk you back into his web made you sick.

You blocked him on everything the minute you got home. Packed a bag with the essentials and bolted to your cousin’s place, where you spent weeks crying yourself to sleep on her couch. Not a single call. Not a text. Not that he could, since you blocked him on every possible avenue. But even then, he didn’t try. Not a knock on the door, not a surprise visit. You realized in those sleepless nights that he’d never really bothered to get close to anyone in your life. Another red flag you had stupidly painted green, thinking he was the man of your dreams.

So when you finally pull yourself together, forcing yourself out of that dark pit of misery and agreeing to this blind date at the bar, you’re in higher spirits. You’re ready to move on— or at least try. But of course, life has a twisted sense of humor. Because the last person you expect to see sitting at the bar, laughing with another woman like nothing happened, is Javier fucking Peña.

You’d recognize that broad, infuriatingly beautiful frame anywhere. He stands out like a sore thumb, even in the dim lighting. Broad shoulders, lean muscles, and the biggest mistake of your life. The shittiest man you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. And yet, the sight of him still makes your chest tighten, reminding you just how much you let him get away with.

You almost suggest to your date that you should hit up a different bar, something far across town, anywhere but here. But no, you catch yourself. You’re done letting your ex dictate your life, done letting him take up space in your head. You’ve shed too many tears over that man, and tonight isn’t going to be another chapter in the same pathetic story.

At first, he doesn’t even notice you. Of course, his attention is fully on the woman he’s with— some gorgeous thing with legs for days and a face that belongs on a magazine cover. It stings, that familiar twinge of jealousy creeping in. You can’t help it, especially when you know he’s always going to have a pretty girl on his arm.

It’s not until your date excuses himself to use the restroom that Javier’s dark, smoldering eyes finally land on you. And what does he do when your gazes meet? He fucking smirks. That slow, deliberate smirk that used to make your knees weak. He throws in a wink for good measure, casually bringing his short glass up to his lips, taking his time with a sip as if he hasn’t just shattered your evening. His eyes linger on you, tracing every inch of your body, undressing you from across the room without so much as a word.

You shift in your seat, heart pounding in your chest as you quickly turn away, forcing your focus on some random sports game playing on the big screen nearby. But even with your eyes elsewhere, you can feel it— the weight of his stare crawling down your neck, tracing the line of your plunging neckline. Of course he’s looking. Tonight is the night you pulled out the dress— the one kept tucked away for special occasions, the revenge dress.

Every girl has one. The one that hugs in all the right places, the one you save for when you need to remind the world, and yourself, exactly what you’re made of.

And while your date had all but drooled when you stepped out in it, there’s no denying the heat in Javier’s gaze from across the bar. You don’t have to look at him to know what he’s thinking— he’s already imagining that dress crumpled on his bedroom floor.

Your date returns from the restroom, noticeably tipsier and much more handsy than when he left. His touch is bold, his fingers possessive, and you revel in it.

You lean into the attention, letting him pull you closer, putting on a little show for the audience you know is watching. Javier might think he’s the only one who knows how to have fun, but you’re going to make sure he sees just how wrong he is.

Your date’s hands wander over your body— grabbing at your ass, pulling you into him by your hips. He leans in, hot breath against your ear, whispering all the filthy things he’s planning to do to you in the back of his car.

He doesn’t even want to wait until you’re back at your place. He’s desperate, and though you hesitate for a second— things are moving a lot faster than you planned— you can feel Javier’s eyes burning into the back of your skull. His relentless glare pushes you forward, stirring something reckless inside of you.

So, you let it happen. You let this guy press his body into yours, his hands traveling, voice dripping with lust, promising you things he probably won’t even remember tomorrow. But in the heat of the moment, you don’t care. It’s not about him, really. It’s about you. About knowing that Javier’s watching every second of this, hating every second of this, and that’s enough to fuel you.

The next thing you know, you’re outside in the alley behind the bar, lips locked like horny teenagers. His mouth is on your neck, sucking on that sensitive spot that makes your knees weak, and despite yourself, you let out a soft moan.

His fingers slip beneath your panties, fumbling as they rub at your clit, off-rhythm and sloppy. But right now, that doesn’t even matter. What matters is that someone else is touching you. Someone else is making you feel something other than loneliness and anger.

Suddenly, he’s ripped off you, and the cool air rushes in where his body had been pressed against yours. Your eyes snap open, and there he is—Javier, seething with rage, his hand gripping your date by the collar. The force with which he slams him into the brick wall makes your heart lurch.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you shout, the shock sobering you up fast as you yank down the hem of your dress, covering yourself as best as you can. Anger surges through you, hot and wild. Your hands tremble as you take in the scene— Javier’s knuckles white against your date’s shirt, his face a mask of pure fury.

Javier’s voice is low, dangerous, a growl vibrating from his chest. “Who the fuck do you think you are, touching what’s mine?”

The laugh that bursts out of you is involuntary, bitter, filled with disbelief. His?! Your mind spins. After everything he’s done, after the way he broke you, he still has the audacity to act like you belong to him? Like you’re some possession he can claim when it suits him?

“She didn’t tell me she was seeing anyone,” your date stammers, already backing down, and you want to scream. Men used to go to war. Now, they cower when a bigger man steps in.

You feel an irrational surge of anger, not just at Javier but at this pathetic display of submission.

“Because I’m not,” you spit, stomping over to where Javier has your date pinned against the wall. You shove at Javier’s arm, trying to break his grip, but it’s like trying to move a mountain. You forgot how strong he is, how solid. His presence alone feels suffocating, like a storm rolling in and swallowing all the air around you.

Javier’s eyes flick toward you for a split second before turning back to the man trembling in his grasp. “You come near her again, and I’ll shoot your fucking knees out. You hear me? She doesn’t need a limp dick motherfucker like you putting your filthy fucking hands on her.” His words are a snarl, dripping with venom, and you can see the terror in your date’s eyes, his resolve crumbling as fast as it appeared.

It’s brief, but, you think your date might actually muster the courage to stand his ground. However, Javier’s patience snaps, and before you can react, he drives his knee into the guy’s groin with brutal precision. The man lets out a strangled whimper, doubling over in pain, and Javier finally releases him.

You gasp, hand flying to your mouth, watching in disbelief.

“Understood?” Javier’s voice cuts through the alley like a blade.

Your date nods frantically, both hands clutching his crotch as he stumbles away, all but sprinting out of the alley like a scared animal. The sound of his hurried footsteps fades, leaving you and Javier alone in the dim light.

Your fury boils over, fists clenching at your sides. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, Peña,” you snap, marching up to him and shoving at his chest with every ounce of strength you can summon. But he doesn’t budge. He stands there, unshakable, like the damn tower of arrogance he’s always been.

“Ruining my date, acting like you have some claim over me. I’m not yours anymore!”

Javier’s dark eyes are locked on you, tracing your every movement, burning a path from your heaving chest to your flushed cheeks. He doesn’t say a word, but his gaze alone sends a shiver down your spine.

It’s not just anger in those eyes. It’s something else, something that has always made your pulse quicken. The intensity of it makes your breath hitch, even though you’re trying your hardest to stay mad, to stay strong.

You push him again, but it feels like pushing against stone. “You think you can just show up, intimidate some guy, and suddenly I’m yours again? That’s not how this works you asshole.”

He says nothing, his chest rising and falling as he watches you, eyes dark and unreadable. Then he leans in, his voice low and rough. “So I’m just supposed to hang back and watch you practically fuck that guy in front of everyone?”

His words send a jolt of heat through you, the way his voice drops to that familiar, dangerous rumble that used to make your knees weak. But you force yourself to stand firm, to remind yourself that you’re mad— furious, even.

You won’t let him have this kind of power over you again. You can’t.

“Go to hell, Javier,” you snap, shoving him one last time before stepping back, your heart hammering in your chest.

But even as you say it, you feel the pull, that magnetic force that’s always existed between the two of you. And as much as you want to hate him, you can’t deny that part of you still burns for him, still aches for the way he used to make you feel.

“Chiquita,” he drawls, sending shivers down your spine. “You can’t talk to me all angry like that, looking this fucking good, and expect me not to want to push you up against that wall and fuck you like you need.”

Your jaw drops, your brain scrambling for a response, but nothing comes out. His words hit you like a slap, bold and filthy, and despite yourself, heat shoots straight to your cunt. You curse under your breath, hating how your body betrays you.

“Y-You—” you stammer, but you can’t even string a sentence together. And that’s all it takes for him to smirk, that infuriating, knowing smirk that tells you he still has that effect on you.

“You’ve got that girl in there,” you snap, voice trembling even as you try to hold your ground. “Your secretary, and probably half the goddamn city, waiting to spread their legs for you. Not me. Not anymore.”

But even as you say it, your voice falters. The truth you’re trying to convince yourself of feels thin, weak in the face of his presence. He takes a step closer, and instinctively, you take a step back.

“Still hung up on that?” He shakes his head, almost amused. “C’mon, baby, I told you. She was a mistake. She came onto me.”

Another step forward. Another step back.

You can’t believe he’s really doing this— feeding you the same tired excuses. But then again, you can. This is exactly what men like Javier Peña do.

They lie, they cheat, and they make you feel like you’re the one being unreasonable.

“Bullshit someone else, Peña,” your voice shakes again, betraying you. “I’m done with you.”

But he keeps advancing, every step pushing you back until your spine hits the cold, rough brick of the alley wall. You curse under your breath, ready to slip past him, to get out of here before he does something you can’t walk away from. But he moves faster, caging you in with his hands planted on either side of your head.

“I’m not bullshitting,” he murmurs as he leans in close. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek, and despite every ounce of willpower, your body reacts.

His dark brown eyes burn into you, their intensity pulling you under. “She meant nothing. Pussy wasn’t even half as good as yours. Couldn’t even compare.” His nose brushes the side of your face, and you know he’s inhaling the scent of your perfume— the one he always loved.

“Javier…” you try to protest, but your resolve crumbles with each passing second. His hand finds your waist, slowly trailing up the length of your body, fingertips grazing your skin through the thin fabric of your dress. Your breath hitches, and you hate yourself for it.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers, his voice softer now. His palm comes up to cup your breast, kneading it gently, and your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to the familiar touch that your body still craves, even if your mind is screaming at you to stop.

“You’re a liar,” you breathe, barely managing to get the words out as his fingers tease your hardened nipple through the fabric of your dress.

Before you can react, his other hand moves with lightning speed, wrapping firmly around your throat. He squeezes just enough to tilt your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze. The heat in his eyes is undeniable.

“Don’t say that,” he growls. His grip tightens just slightly, enough to make your pulse quicken under his palm. “Do you know how much it fucking hurt to see another man touching you the way I did? Huh?” He leans in, his lips hovering near your ear as his breath tickles your skin. “You can be so inconsiderate sometimes, cariño.”

Your heart races in your chest, caught between anger and arousal. You should push him away, should scream at him, but the way he’s looking at you— like you’re the only thing that matters in the world— makes it impossible to move.

You open your mouth to speak, but his grip around your throat tightens just enough to rob you of breath, silencing whatever retort you had.

“Letting him put his hands on you like that…” he scoffs, his dark eyes scanning your face as if daring you to deny it. “Touching up on my pretty pussy like he had the fucking right. Like he could handle what’s mine. Even if you had fucked him, we both know he wouldn’t have left you all sore and throbbing the way I do. Wouldn’t have made you wet enough to take his small cock. You’d have to fake it. And for what? To try and make me jealous?”

His words are cutting, sinful, and despite your anger, you feel the way your arousal smears against the fabric of your underwear.

The twisted satisfaction in his voice, the way his grip tightens then loosens just enough for you to breathe— he knows exactly how to break you down, how to remind you that no one has ever made you feel the way he does.

“It seems like it worked,” you manage to gasp out, your voice a rasp as you gulp in air. “You came out here all pissed at the thought that someone else could make me feel better than you ever did.”

That’s what does it. His control snaps.

In an instant, his lips crash against yours in a bruising kiss. It’s rough, possessive, and desperate. His tongue invades your mouth, demanding and unapologetic, as if he’s punishing you for even thinking someone else could replace him.

His hand, the one that had been so firmly on your throat, moves to grope your breast, squeezing you roughly. You moan against his mouth, your body reacting on instinct, traitorous in its desire for him.

“Esos ruidos tan bonitos. Solo para mí.” He murmurs when he pulls back just enough to speak, a string of spit still connecting your mouths. His voice is low, vibrating with dark satisfaction. “Si alguien está mintiendo aquí, eres tú, chiquita.”

His words swirl in your head as you gasp for breath, but before you can form a coherent thought, his hand is already sliding down your body. His fingers trail down your waist, lingering at the hem of your dress before slipping underneath. You let out a sharp gasp, biting down on your lip as his fingers find your soaked panties.

It all happens so fast after that. The hunger between you ignites like a flame catching gasoline. The intensity of the kiss deepens, all teeth and tongues. His possessive touch makes you writhe beneath him, your body yielding even as your mind fights to hold on to some shred of dignity.

“Look at you,” he breathes against your lips, his voice dripping with desire. “Moaning for me. You always do, don’t you?”

“Javier…” You try to protest, but your words are swallowed by another moan as his fingers slip inside your panties, brushing against your throbbing clit.

“Shh, baby. Let me remind you what you’ve been missing,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers begin to stroke you. His movements are deliberate, knowing exactly how to play your body, how to coax those helpless little noises from your throat. “God, you’re so fucking wet. All for me. Always for me.”

You gasp his name, your hands gripping his shoulders as his fingers slide inside you, curling just right. The tension in your body melts, replaced with a rush of heat that pools between your thighs. Your mind blanks, lost in the feel of him— his hand working you over, his mouth pressing hot kisses to your neck.

“You mean everything to me,” he whispers into your ear, his voice ragged as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the slick sound filling the alley. “This tight little pussy? She was made for me. Feels like heaven around my fingers. Imagine how good she’ll feel wrapped around my cock, huh?”

Your body trembles, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pressure inside you builds with each thrust of his fingers. You know you shouldn’t be here, pinned against a wall, letting this man who shattered your heart pull you apart like this.

But God, his touch is addictive. His possessive words ignite every part of you.

“Say it,” he growls, his fingers curling deeper, hitting that perfect spot that makes you see stars. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“Javier…” Your voice is barely a whisper, your resolve crumbling with each passing second as he drags you closer and closer to the edge.

“Say it baby,” he demands, his breath hot against your skin as his thumb presses against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. “Tell me I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.”

“No,” you gasp, using every ounce of willpower to bring your hand down, gripping his wrist, halting the delicious rhythm of his fingers inside you.

His fingers still, his breath heavy against your skin as you lock eyes with him, summoning every shred of confidence through the haze of lust clouding your mind. “You tell me that. Tell me I’m the only one who drives you this crazy.”

The tension crackles between you, thick and electric. Your chest heaves, heart racing as his dark eyes search yours.

He groans, leaning in, his lips brushing yours with a desperate hunger. “You are,” he breathes, but it’s not enough.

You can’t help but smirk, your pussy clenching around his fingers just to tease him, making him hiss through clenched teeth. “Say it like you mean it, Javier,” you demand, fueled by the fire burning between your thighs. “You broke my fucking heart, and if you think you’re going to fuck me tonight, you’re going to admit it. Tell me I did everything right. That you are the one who’s hurting. Tell me how much you miss this pussy. How you crave her on your tongue, how you miss fucking her in your bed.”

His eyes drown in lust at your command. His fingers twitch inside you, but he doesn’t move yet. Instead, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze head-on, staring straight into your soul, his breath ragged and uneven.

It’s a battle of wills, and for a second, you think you’ve won.

“I’m sorry, pretty girl,” he purrs, and finally, his fingers begin to move again, slow and deliberate, a tantalizing rhythm that sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. “Sorry for hurting you so bad you felt the need to find another dick to hop on.” His thumb presses against your clit, making your hips buck involuntarily as you gasp at the sensation. “I fucked up. You deserve better.”

His words are laced with apology, but his actions? Pure, selfish desire. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your toes curl. Your head falls back against the brick wall, eyes fluttering closed as a ragged moan escapes your lips.

“But I’m too selfish to let you go,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and husky. “I need you, baby. Miss how sweet you taste, how tight you feel.”

Javier’s mouth is on your neck then, his tongue darting out to lick at the damp skin, tasting the salt of your sweat as his fingers continue their relentless assault. Each stroke brings you closer to the edge, and it’s intoxicating— how easily he can unravel you, how effortlessly he pulls you apart.

Your body feels weightless, high on him, and with each praise, each filthy promise that falls from his lips, you’re hurtling toward your release. His thumb circles your clit faster now, his fingers curling deeper, and you can’t hold it back any longer.

“Javier!” you cry out, your walls clenching around his fingers as the orgasm crashes through you, making your body tremble. Your moans fill the alleyway, breathless and raw, and as you come undone, his mouth crashes into yours in a sloppy, desperate kiss.

He swallows your moans as he undoes his belt with one hand, his fingers never leaving you until the last possible second. Before you even have time to catch your breath, he’s lifting you off the ground, and instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist.

You barely have time to gasp before he’s thrusting inside you, burying himself to the hilt in one swift, brutal motion.

“Oh fuck!” you exclaim, your arms flying around his neck as he starts to pound into you, his thrusts deep and punishing. The sound of your bodies colliding, skin slapping against skin, echoes in the narrow alley. Every thrust pushes you further up the wall, and you clutch onto him for dear life as he fucks you hard, like a man possessed.

“Feels so good, baby,” he growls into your ear, his hands gripping your hips as he drives into you relentlessly. “Only I can fuck you like this. Only I can make you scream.”

And you do scream, pleasure and frustration mixing together as you meet his punishing thrusts, your body moving on instinct, chasing the high that only Javier can give you.

“You feel that, pretty girl?” His voice is a low rasp in your ear, thick with need, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through your core. “This—this is how I fuck what’s mine. No one else can make you feel like this. Admit it.”

His grip tightens on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he drives into you, deeper, rougher. It’s brutal how good he feels, how perfectly his cock stretches and fills you, like your body was made for him.

You hate him, hate that he can still make you feel this fucking good, but your body betrays you, responding to his every touch, clenching around him as if to hold him there forever.

“I—” you stutter, breathless, eyes crossing as the sensations drown out your thoughts. His cock is relentless, pushing you toward the edge again, and you can’t hold back the moan that escapes your lips. “I—God, I hate you…”

But it sounds hollow, even to your own ears. The truth is you can’t resist him, never could. He knows exactly how to break you apart, and you despise how much you crave him, how much you need this despite the pain he’s brought you.

Javier chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your neck. “No, you don’t. You love this. You love the way I make you feel.” His lips brush the shell of your ear, biting down on your lobe. “And I love the way you fall apart for me. Just me.”

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans that threaten to spill out as he thrusts harder, faster. You can feel the pressure building inside you again, tightening with every stroke, every whispered promise of what he’ll do to you.

It’s almost too much, the way he claims you, body and soul. And the worst part? You’re letting him. You want him to.

“Say it,” he demands, his pace quickening, hips slamming into you so hard you’re sure you’ll feel it for days. His lips find yours again, his kiss angry and claiming. “Say you’re mine.”

You shake your head, gasping, fighting against the overwhelming pleasure threatening to consume you. “Javier—”

“Say it,” he growls, his voice rough and insistent as he reaches between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. He circles it with precision, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through your body, pushing you closer to the brink.

“Fuck!” You cry out, the intensity of his touch stealing the breath from your lungs. Your body is on fire, trembling, and you know you’re about to shatter beneath him. “I—I’m yours…”

The words tumble from your lips in a desperate whisper, and the moment they do, it’s like something snaps inside him. His thrusts become brutal, animalistic, and your world narrows down to the feel of him— his cock, his hands, his lips, all of it overwhelming you, driving you toward that final, devastating release.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Now come for me.”

And with that, you do. The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, crashing through your body with a force that leaves you breathless. Your walls clench tight around him, your moans loud and unrestrained as you come undone in his arms, shaking and trembling.

Javier groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he follows you over the edge, spilling himself inside you with a low, primal grunt. His body shudders against yours, his grip on you tightening as he rides out his release.

The world is still. All you can hear is the sound of your ragged breaths and the pounding of your heart as you both come down from the high. You’re pressed against him, his forehead resting against yours, the intensity of the moment hanging in the air between you.

But as the haze of pleasure fades, reality starts creeping back in.

You push him away, your palms flat against his chest, but he doesn’t move, if anything, he tightens his hold on you.

His brown eyes still linger on yours, filled with the same possessiveness that’s always been there.

“I told you,” he murmurs, voice low, as if this moment has proven everything he wanted to. “You’re mine.”

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @bitchesuntitled . @angiewatson .

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

[slayfics]

Idk if you do drabble requests but I wanna ask. Katsuki getting resder pads. I can imagine two scenarios for him. Either he was too focused on hero stuff that he gets pads in all sizes, in the brand which reader asked to get. Or, total domestic househusband material. Straught away gets the pad and some snacks and comes home w a proud lil smile saying like how he knows everything about reader 🤩🤩

(Yeah I'm on my period :D)

Katsuki tends to you on your period

500 words~

You scrolled through your phone while watching mindless TV, waiting for Katsuki to return home. He had taken off to the store to grab a few things. Before leaving he had asked you if you needed anything.

To your surprise, he didn’t scrunch his nose up at you or make any snide comments when you asked him to pick up pads. Instead, he just grunted in acknowledgment and made his way out the door.

You half expected a text or call soon from a lost Katsuki in the feminine hygiene aisle completely overwhelmed with which ones to pick out. However- a call never came.

The door creaked open, and you heard the sound of his boots stomping accompanied by the rustling of what sounded to be several grocery bags. Katsuki poked his head into the living room- a devious look on his face.

“Welcome back,” you greeted him apprehensively.

Katsuki made his way to you- grocery bags in hands, “Will this do it for ya’?” he asked, spilling the contents of a few of the bags onto your lap. Multiple packs of pads in all sizes and shapes rained out.

You looked up at his teasing expression and couldn’t help but laugh, “Kats what did you do?!?”

“You didn’t specify so- I got every kind they had,” he explained a harsh laugh escaping him. “Oh wait- I also read some dumb ass article that said to get you snacks too,” he said grabbing another bag and dumping it out once more onto your lap.

Many snacks flopped out, from chocolates, and chips, to sour gummy worms. 

“Wait- got these too,” he said emptying another bag on top of you and various stuffed toys flew out. “Need anything else for your period, hm?” He asked and smiled as you proceeded to laugh until your eyes misted.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” You stated.

“Yeah, well- told ya I’m the best at everything. Including this.” He said mockingly before his features turned soft, “Seriously though- do you need anything else?” He asked.

“Just you,” you said motioning for him to sit with you. Katsuki made a scene of pushing the stuffed toys, snacks, and pads to the side to make room for himself.

“I love you,” you said kissing his cheek.

“Course you do,” he replied, causing you to slap his arm playfully. “Kidding brat- you know I love you. Wouldn’t do this dumb shit for anyone else,” he said pulling you closer to him and placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Thanks for the request! I hope this is what you were looking for! Just wanted to let everyone else know too incase you haven’t seen- I’ve opened up my requests again but only for some of the MHA boys. You can read more in my pinned post~

Tags: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a

[explosionkatsu]

AGE DOESN'T MATTER 23

Dad!Bakugo x Teacher!Babysitter!Reader

22

7 p.m. is what it says to the clock and Katsuki hasn't arrived yet. It seems like Eijiro is quite busy as well for Kazui is still with her.

You were starting to feel uneasy since something must've come up that caused them to be this late. After checking your watch once again, you've decided to just drop Kazui yourself. The thing is, you don't know where Katsuki's parents live and you doubt you'll get a detailed answer from him.

'Well, no harm in trying.' You thought to yourself and poked Kazui who was busy watching some cartoons on your phone.

"Kazui-chan." You called out making Kazui look up at you confused.

"Hai?" He responded.

"Do you know where your bachan lives?" You asked.

You were surprised when Kazui told you the complete address, including the lot number.

"H-how?" You were amazed.

"Papa told me if I got lost, I can state Bachan's address so that someone can take me there safely!" Kazui beamed.

"That's very smart of you, Kazui-chan." You praised and gently patted his head smiling.

"Thank you!" Kazui answered.

"What do you say I drop you instead to your bachan?" You suggested. "I don't think Uncle Eiji will be here anytime soon. Something must've come up."

Kazui just nodded when you noticed him yawning. Of course, he's exhausted.

"Alright. Let's pack our stuff and head out." You said.

Y/n began fixing her things as well as Kazui. Once finished, she checked everything and left the school taking Kazui's hand to hers. She plans on buying something to consume on their way as well since it's been hours since Kazui ate anything.

Y/n took Kazui to a ramen house where Kazui finished his meal almost immediately and ate his yogurt on the bus. You intentionally made him sit at the window seat so that he'd be able to point out the place.

"We're here!" He suddenly exclaimed while pointing to a certain house.

Y/n pressed the stop button resulting in the bus halting a few blocks away from where Kazui's pointing. Carefully, Y/n guided Kazui out of the bus and headed to where he was pointing.

'If this is the wrong house, she could just apologize and say it's the wrong house.' Y/n thought while internally praying, as well as readying herself for the excuse.

When they reached the porch, Y/n shakingly pressed the doorbell twice. She was ready to make an excuse, chanting it over and over in her head. Her dread vanished when a woman who looked exactly like a female version of Katsuki opened the door.

"Can I- Kazui!?" Mitsuki shrieked. "Where the hell is your father?!"

"Bachaaan!!" Kazui beamed hugging Mitsuki.

"That brat," Mitsuki mumbled. "Masaru! Your brat left Kazui to some- wait." She blinked, finally looking at you. "Who are you?"

"O-oh!" Y/n stuttered. "I am Y/n L/n." She said and bowed down. "I am Kazui-chan's homeroom teacher, as well as his babysitter."

"Did Kat-, Bakugo leave Kazui to you?" Mitsuki asked and let Kazui in the house.

"Oh, not entirely." Y/n sweat dropped. "Kazui has been waiting for Kirishima to pick him up. But it seems like something came up. I realized it was getting a bit late so I decided to drop Kazui myself, which I am a bit thankful he knew the whole address." She explained, chuckling in the end.

"Oh what am I doing, come in!"

---

"Glad we were able to catch that villain. Man, I thought I'd leave patrol early today." Eijiro said while sitting on the stretcher and letting someone treat his wounds. "Sorry, I couldn't pick up Kazui today."

"Shit!" Katsuki cussed.

"What is it?" Eijiro asked looking at Katsuki in panic.

"I have a fucking date today!"

"What?! With who!?" Eijiro exclaimed. "Bro. You realized it's 8:30 in the evening already, right?"

"I'm supposed to fucking pick her up at the daycare."

Without hesitating, Katsuki told the medic to stop treating him.

"Who!? Where- Dynamight!!!" Eijiro called out. "Awe man."

Katsuki darted away from the scene focusing on getting to the daycare fast, hoping Y/n and Kazui were still there. But as soon as he reached the establishment, he saw that the lights were out and the portico was locked.

"Fuck!" He cussed loudly.

'She must've taken Kazui her. But where? At her home? Yeah. Probably it.' Katsuki thought to himself and blasted himself towards Y/n's apartment.

It took him a few minutes to get there only to notice that her lights were off as well.

"What the hell?" He mumbled. "Where the hell are they.." Katsuki said. He went to the window to check closer but saw no one.

The only place he hasn't gone yet is his own house and his parents.

"Damn it." He cussed once again and blasted away.

---

"So, you've been spending time with Katsuki." Mitsuki was surprised after learning this. It irritates her that Katsuki never tells him anything. "So, how's he?"

Y/n, who was sitting in the dining with Mitsuki smiled. "He's very-"

"Difficult?"

"A-ah. No..." Y/n sweat dropped. "He's really sweet." She giggled. "Whenever I come over to take care of Kazui, I usually cook dinner for 3 people. He'll get mad at me for cooking instead of ordering takeout since he always leaves enough cash for takeouts."

"What do you do to the money he leaves?" Mitsuki asked before sipping her cup of tea.

'Ah.' Y/n thought. It seems like she knew what Mitsuki was doing.

"I bought groceries." Y/n looked down as she said this. "I noticed that there aren't any greens in the fridge. It's usually meat, cereal, a bunch of juices, and a few spices."

"What happened to Katsuki." Mitsuki facepalmed. "That kid is always passionate about his cooking."

"He always complains whenever I cook for him, but he'll eat it anyway." Y/n giggled and took a sip of her tea.

"Why do you do it?" Mitsuki's getting interested in Y/n.

"I can see how tired and exhausted he is whenever he gets home from work."

As Y/n went on to explain, she didn't know that Mitsuki was watching her facial features. Her expression changes whenever she mentions something about Katsuki.

'He'll be so lucky to have this woman.' Mitsuki thought smiling to herself. "Ah. I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself." She smiled. "I'm Mitsuki Bakugo, and here my husband, Masaru Bakugo. You can just call me Mitsuki."

"Oh. It is a pleasure, Mitsuki." Y/n stood up and bowed as a sign of respect.

---

Reaching his own house, Katsuki can see the lights are as well off.

"What the hell?"

He's starting to get worried. Did someone kidnap them? Did they know who Y/n is?

"Fuck!" The only thing he can think of now is to call. But as he tries to reach for his phone, he realizes he left it in his office which frustrates him more.

The only place he hasn't checked is his parents where he doubts, they will be there, but he was hoping they are.

---

"Masaru," Mitsuki called out for her husband signaling him to come over.

Y/n was with Kazui in the living room, obviously spending time with him.

"Yes, dear?" Masaru responded.

"We haven't fully known Y/n right here but I'm liking her for Katsuki right now." She was grinning ear to ear while murmuring what she said.

"What makes you say that?" Masaru said placing a palm on Mitsuki's shoulder.

"I heard the things she did for him. She's the woman I want for our son." Mitsuki smiled.

"You know we just can't-"

"Set them up," Mitsuki answered mischievously.

"Katsuki's smart, dear."

"Not with us." She snickered. "Y/n dear! Come here!"

Y/n blinked curiously but stood up anyway and went to Mitsuki and Masaru.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Eh?

This question made you blink again. "Huh?"

"Oh! We apologize for snooping around. You are a very lovely woman so we're guessing you have a man in your life." Mitsuki's a great actor alright.

"U-um. I don't have a boyfriend." You stuttered but confused. "It's been years since I last had one."

"Why's that, sweetie?" She was curious, okay?

"I just don't have enough time to look for someone..." You answered truthfully. "If someone came into my life, then I'll accept them wholeheartedly."

"I swear to god if they aren't here-"

Just as Y/n finished her sentence, Katsuki came barging in. Everyone was jolted by his entrance, making them all look at him, and Kazui, well, ran to Y/n in fear.

Mitsuki though, after seeing it was only her son, stomped her way to Katsuki and gave him a hard smack on his head which made Y/n gasp.

"That's normal, Y/n," Masaru says assuring her.

"Ooh.." Y/n said in response.

"Why the hell are you barging in here like that!? You gave us a heart attack you idiot!"

"I was looking for Y/n and Kazui!"

"That doesn't change the fact that you almost killed us all!"

"How the hell would I do that woman!?"

"Who are you calling woman, hah!?"

Then Mitsuki gave Katsuki another smack whilst Masaru just sighed in the background, smiling.

"A-ano.." Y/n's voice halted both the blonde-haired.

Both blonde-haired paused in bickering when they heard Y/n's voice making them look at her.

"Kazui!" Katsuki called out as he reached for Kazui, embracing him tightly. "I was so worried." He breathes out what after seeing Kazui safe.

"Papaaaaa." Kazui groaned, squirming a little while being embraced by his father. "I'm okay!"

Mitsuki just slightly shook her head while witnessing the scene.

"How did they get here?" Katsuki asked as he stood up looking at his mother.

"They knock at the door, genius," Mitsuki answered crossing her arms.

"I- whatever." Katsuki facepalmed.

"A-ano.." You stuttered. "Kazui-chan gave me the address."

He was so focused on Kazui that he almost forgot that you were also here in his parent's house. So when his eyes gaze upon you, he can't help but blush a little which goes unnoticed by Mitsuki who smirks seeing this.

"Tsch." Katsuki tched. "Thanks for keeping Kazui safe."

"It's my responsibility as his teacher and babysitter." You smiled.

"I'm guessing you've met my old hag here," Katsuki mumbles as he scratches his cheeks.

Y/n was a bit distraught. She never focuses on what he is saying because Katsuki is covered in bruises, scratches, wounds, and dirt. She was tempted to heal him.

"Katsuki.." Y/n called out softly.

Katsuki stopped talking and looked at her raising an eyebrow.

"I apologize for cutting you, but I hope you don't mind if I take a look at your bruises. It might get infected... Especially those open wounds.." Y/n said staring at Katsuki worriedly.

"Now that you mentioned it," Mitsuki spoke up. "You look terrible! I was just watching you and Eijiro defeat that villain! Why aren't you patched up!?"

Katsuki only rolled his eyes hearing his mother yell at him, but deep inside he kinda missed it. "Eijiro was getting patched up." Katsuki started. "I was going to as well when he fu-, mentioned Kazui. Since I made plans with Y/n as well, I thought of picking him up instead. But I realized it was a bit late, and looked around for them."

"Be glad that your son knows our address." Mitsuki sighed.

"Son, why don't you use your old bedroom and stay here for tonight?" Masaru walked towards them, smiling. "Your mother can help you with those while I prepare dinner. I'm sure Miss Y/n and Kazui are starving as well."

"A-ah! You don't have to-"

"That would be lovely!" Mitsuki beamed.

"Tsch." Well, it was not a bad idea. "Fine. Only because I'm exhausted."

"Alright then! I'll bring the aid kit while your father-

"Give it to Y/n," Katsuki said finally removing his combat boots.

"Ha?" Mitsuki was confused.

"She's a healer." Katsuki simply said making Y/n's eyes wide open.

"How did y-you know?.." Y/n stuttered.

"Doesn't matter," Katsuki said.

"Oh? That's very interesting, Y/n." Mitsuki smiled. "You can patch Katsuki in his room. I can finally spend time with my grandson!"

---

Katsuki went to his old bedroom along with Y/n following him. He didn't expect his night to turn this way but he was a bit glad to have some a little privacy with Y/n.

"This is my old room," Katsuki said stopping in front of a door.

He slowly pushed the door open and switched the lights on revealing a tidy room with a bunch of Almight stuff around the room.

"I see a fan." Y/n giggled while they both walked into the room.

"Whatever," Katsuki answered. "Be thankful it's not like Izuku's." He mumbled.

"Hm?"

"I'll go shower." He said. "You can wait here. Just sit on the bed, I guess."

"Oh. I'll prepare the med kit while waiting for you." Y/n smiled.

"Alright. I'll be quick." Katsuki said and left.

A few minutes passed, and Katsuki got out of the shower fully clothed. He decided to just change in the bathroom so that it wouldn't create any awkwardness between him and Y/n. He also wore something that might help Y/n while she heals him.

"Would these clothes be a bother?" He asked slowly approaching Y/n who was comfortably sitting on the bed.

Hearing his voice shook her a little bit. Luckily she managed to hide it.

As she looked at Katsuki, her eyes widened on seeing what he was wearing. A loose black tank top along with what seems like sleepwear shorts stops a few inches above his knee.

"Oi."

Y/n blinked when he called out. "I-it's okay."

Katsuki sat across from her, not too close but not too far either. He watched how she took a bunch of stuff out of the kit as if she was familiar with what she was doing. Like a muscle memory almost.

"I have a question." Katsuki suddenly blurts out.

"Oh, uh. What is it?" Y/n asked while focusing on the liquid disinfectant.

"Why didn't you take the medical field?" As if hitting a sensitive spot, Katsuki noticed how her movements turned slow. "You don't have to answer if it's something sensitive." He quickly added.

"No, no. It's fine." Y/n smiled at him. "It's not sensitive as well." She said. "I just dont like seeing people die. Especially under my care." She sighed as the smile never left her lips. "I get attached easily which is not a good thing as a doctor, or so I was told. Haha."

While reading the formula of the disinfectant, Y/n managed to answer Katsuki. "I wanted to be a doctor. But since I am a very emotional person, I decided to just teach."

"Why didn't you tell me your quirk is healing?"

Y/n giggled remembering her reason.

"The hell is so funny about it, hah?" Katsuki was confused as to why she found his question amusing.

"Sorry!" Y/n apologized immediately. "I just think that you might find my reason foolish."

"I won't if you tell me." Katsuki tsked. 

"Well. I watched you a lot on the television. All your interviews." Y/n started.

"Right," Katsuki smirked. "I forgot that you're a fan of Dynamight."

"S-shut it.." Y/n blushed. "Anyway," after clearing her throat, she continues, "Dynamight is a very protective person and doesn't want to cause any harm to anyone. Since my quirk causes self-harm, I know you'd be against it if I used it on you or Kazui when I started working for you."

She does have a point.

"So, the day you got home injured, I told Kirishima to not say a word when I both mended you two," Y/n explained while dabbing the liquid on a cotton ball.

"You think I'll let you use it on me, huh?" Katsuki said looking at her.

"H-huh?"

"Of course fucking not." He added and looked away. "You're precious to me. I don't want you getting hurt." He said while his face was turning red.

Y/n's face was worse though, hers was redder than tomato. "U-um.. Your a-arm, please.."

"Wha t do you even like about Dynamight, huh," Katsuki asked out of nowhere while he raised his arm and felt her gentle grasp on his skin. For some reason, it feels very comforting.

"What do I like about him?" Y/n smiled. "He was very passionate about saving people. I admire how bold he is in every situation. No matter what kind of villain he faces, he assures people that he'll defeat them. I just hate it when people misunderstand him just by judging him. They didn't know that without his hero suit, Dynamight was a very different person."

---

"Hey, Masaru." Mistuki called out while preparing the food with her husband.

"Yes, dear?" Masaru answered.

"Did you notice what Katsuki said earlier?" Mitsuki said pausing on washing the vegetables.

"Hm.." Masaru thinks for a second before answering, "Which part?"

"Katsuki said he has plans with Y/n." Mitsuki looked at Masaru as she said this. "I think Katsuki doesn't need our help."

Masaru just smiled at his wife. "Like I said, our son is smart."

24

---

Happy New year, everyone!! I am back!!! I hope you like this part!

Thank you for all your patience! 🥺🥺

[franki-lew-yo]

Wendell and Wild and Kat

Not a headcanon or a sequel pic, just a soft redesign of Wendell and Wild.

This movie is super SUPER flawed, but endearing in one way while also highly maddening in that same way it's endearing. The pacing and storytelling is really very bad. I mean, it'd be good for a four ep miniseries but not an under 2-hour film. Sorry. If their minds were set on an hour and thirty minute film than they really out to have worked out some of the bugs and cleared over some story problems a bit. As with Book of Life, this is a movie with characters I kind of really like but whom the story is too packed and busy to let me love them like it wants me too. The biggest victim, in my book, is Kat's relationship with Wendell and Wild, which I think could have been done better. They had exactly one good scene together as partners in crime. I really wish the film was more about that and the human girl/incompetent demon brothers trying and failing to double cross the other but in the end becoming their own found family. I think, in the end, that's what they WANTED the film to be but that's not how it came off, sadly.

I really like Kat. Ya'll are weird to give her so much hate. For her circumstances it makes total sense why she's so angry at things, in fact I'd argue she doesn't go hard enough with making her bitter and angry at the world. This is where though I think you could have had a cute moment- after first meeting the brothers, Kat actually yuks it up at them like the teenager she is for the first time in years, which is how she'd know the brothers are alright and how Wendell and Wild would 'know' they could use her better.

GIVE ME A DAMAGED GIRL AND HER FAILTASTIC DEMON FRENEMIES, NETFLIX! No, that's NOT the same thing as Cartoon!Lydia or Billy and Mandy and even if it were it's a great trope for a reason. Give me fail Key and Peele demons!!

[jujutsukatsuki]

11 Minutes || Katsuki x Reader || ANGST

{inspired by 11 minutes by Yungblud, Halsey and Travis Barker}

“Hey, I’m eleven minutes away.” Her voice chimed through his phone once he clicked accept.

“Yeah, I’m just waiting for you, I got 45 minutes of my break left.” He said as he checked the clock that hung on the wall of the coffee shop. They said their goodbyes and hung up. He bounced his leg nervously.

His ear piece started to ring, he pressed it and took the call.

“Dynamite.” His voice was gruff as he spoke, annoyed they bothered him during his break.

“We need you on Hiroshi street, there’s been a car accident and you’re the closest person.” One of his many assistants in his agency said.

He growled “On it.” He sent Y/n a text.

‘Got a call, only 11 minutes from here, I’ll be back asap!’

He took off out the coffee shop and used his quirk to propel himself faster. He could see the smoke from where he was.

~

Her head laid on his chest, the room smelt like sex and vanilla scented candles. Her hand was warm as it brushed over his tattoos that lay on his ribs. Y/n’s hair tickled his skin whenever her head would lightly move.

“You’re so pretty.” She whispered and kissed one of the tattoos gently.

“Oh, shut up.” His face flushed a light pink as he looked away, one hand tickled behind his head while the other laid on the small of her back. Their legs were entangled together as the quiet Saturday afternoon felt calming.

~

He arrived on the scene and as he dashed to the car that was on fire and flipped upside down, a man unconscious against the wheel, a women with her head against the dashboard and a baby in his back seat.

He got the three out just in time as the car had lightly exploded. Bakugou made his way to the second car and froze when he saw her, thrown from the windshield, laying on the ground.

“No.. no..” he whispered and rushed to her.

~

“I’m sorry Y/n.” His voice was cold, callus and calm. He packed up his duffel bag of stuff and was about to leave her for good.

“Please.” She sobbed and reached for him. He took a step back and stared off, eyes watering.

“I’m sorry. Being a pro hero is my dream and I can’t do that if I have distractions.” His heart felt like it was snapping. The sounds of her sobs got louder as she sat on the couch, hands in her hair. Katsuki took one last look at her before he left her apartment for the last time.

~

“Please.” He whispered as he held her body in his arms, her chest wasn’t moving. She was bleeding from various places.

“I’m sorry, please, wake up.” He nearly yelled as he rocked her in his arms lightly.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry, wake up!” He screamed as more tears fell.

“Please!” He sobbed and held her tight. He shielded her lifeless body as the cars exploded once again. Paramedics came over and tried to take her and he wouldn’t let them.

~

“Run the simulation again.” He barked to the tech in the room.

“Running Simulation 214.” The robotic voice spoke.

Bakugou was once again back in the coffee shop getting the call. The simulation broke when the door opened.

“Dude..” Kirishima sighed quietly

“You couldn’t have changed the outcome.” He walked over to his best friend and partner at the agency.

“Yes I could!” Bakugou barked at him. “Get out!”

Kirishima sighed and left as he shook his head.

“He’s right you know.” Bakugou froze and turned to see her. She looked as beautiful as she did the day he met her.

“There was nothing you could have done.” She walked over and put her warm hand on his cheek.

“Please Kat, don’t forget me but don’t torture yourself.” Bakugou leaned into her touch before it disappeared as quick as it came.

“No.. please..” he whimpered and dropped to his knees.

~

“Katsuki.. katsuki~” a gentle voice spike in his ear, he jolted awake with a scream.

“Y/n!” She jumped at the yell before grabbing his face in her warm hands.

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay, what’s wrong? Bad dream?” She hummed softly. Bakugou panted as he looked at the girl of his dreams. He gulped air down a few times as he stared at her eyes.

“Yeah..” he nodded before pulling her into a tight hug. He felt her hands rub his back as she hugged back.

“You’re okay, I got you,” she whispered softly.

[tinytennisskirt]

i really really really need more mark rebellato patrick and art head canons like i haven’t been able to stop thinking about the ears scenario pls!!! something about their rooms, how they became friends, the whole shebang please and thank you

(sorry it just makes me SOB)

Mark Rebellato Era Headcanons: Misc and Out of Order

First off, the hc that started this-

little Art worried about the boys at school making fun of his ears, his mom walking him into his room at Mark Rebellato tennis academy, her hand on his back, pointing at Patrick saying, “look at that boy’s ears. just like yours. you have nothing to worry about.”

Art's mom packs him a ton of candy every year and Art swears to her he eats it over the course of a month or two, but the truth is he and Patrick usually sit down and eat it all in one go, the first night back to school. It's ritual.

Patrick has gotten into a fight three times over Art-related incidents. Someone makes fun of his swing more than once? Someone says some shit about the shape of his head or his ears? Anyone decides to say anything negative about his best friend?He's not just going to let them talk like that about him in any shape or form. He's used his racket, his fist, his elbows, he has gotten detention over it, but it's always been worth it.

They are partners for every project. Every single project. And if they aren't? Best believe they go behind the teacher's back and switch out partners to be each other's. they're called on to present and they get up together every time without fail, to every teacher's dismay.

They also are every teacher's dismay. When the boys aren't in a class together or in the same tennis group, they do all they can in their power to fix that. Forget their dorm room, they had their parents pay to secure the fact they'd stay bunkmates. The poor teacher in the staffroom conversing with the other teachers being consoled by other teachers of the boy's past, saying, "Hopefully they've matured over the summer." But they're always a little rowdy. A little too talkative.

Art is fairly studious. He gets things done in time, he gets good grades. Patrick too, but Patrick swore off studying when he first got there. He'll review his notes, but he relies a lot on his memories and note-taking, which is why his grades are mediocre. But not bad.

The day after the Kat Zimmerman thing, Patrick holds it over him to get Art to do stupid things like call him 'sir'. It lasts only a day because Art reminds Patrick that he caught HIM doing the same thing first and soon Patrick is calling Art 'sir'.

When Patrick gets a little homesick, he never outwardly displays it. It happens, it's normal. Art can tell, but never says anything about it. When he knows Patrick is getting that way- he puts on some 80s rock CD that Patrick really likes- it reminds him of the stuff he heard growing up.

They are each other's ultimate wingman. School dance? Needing to ask someone to it? The other is setting things up like a mastermind. They pull strings, they do what they need to do behind the scenes and almost always, they end up with the date to the dance they wanted.

They fight over who can have what celebrity crush. They're watching a movie and an insanely hot woman pops up on screen, they both shout 'mine' over the other. It's happened a few times in movie theatres, nearly getting kicked out for both the yelling and the slight shoving that goes on afterward.

Little itty bitty Patrick Zweig who has a poster he wants to put up. He's not a super shy kid but he doesn't know Art yet. Itty bitty Art Donaldson with the very same poster, putting it up on the wall and it's their first real conversation. It's when they know they're going to be best friends. The poster gets moved from Art's side of the room to the middle after that. And the poster gets put in the same spot in the room every year until they graduate. The colour is faded, but it's still there. Technically it's Art's, but when they graduate Patrick is the one to take it. After everything that went down later in their life, Patrick still has it. It's in the glovebox of his car.

The boys put on trashy white girl music when they're hanging out alone in their room. Late 90s, early 2000s pop. Patrick will be playing some stupid video game and Art in his bed reading over some tennis book. They know all the words and it's completely of their own volition. They won't tell anyone about it and they keep it low enough that other rooms can't hear. It surprises Tashi later in life when Art is humming along to the songs she listened to when she was younger.

Their moms make them take back-to-school pictures every year. The first photo was taken at Christmas break when the boy's parents came to pick them up to find they'd become best friends and the tradition picks up from there. Their parents each have their own copies of the boys every year standing in the same position. Patrick with double thumbs up and a big grin and Art with one hand up like he's waving, a small smile on his face. The copies that the boys possess are drawn all over with devil horns and mustaches.

And speaking of that, Patrick for sure is the guy who doodles over almost everyone in the yearbook he dislikes. Pictures of jerks, he's got their faces all ugly and marked up and hot girls get a few hearts and some words written on it. When he wants to remember how a person actually looked, he just looks at Art's yearbook.

Art knowing Patrick likes boys too, but they never talk about it. Patrick is never into Art and Art never has it in his head that Patrick likes him- you know that awful thing that happens when you find out someone is a little gay and you start worrying they like you? They never have that. It's written off so easily, they both hardly ever think about it, but it's known.

They are so serious about board games never play monopoly with them in the time between class and lunch because they will get really loud about it.

Thinking maybe Patrick's parents divorce sometime around grade ten and yeah, he's a teenager and he's not really wanting to show emotion, but it's really hard. And Art, without centering Patrick out too much about it, really helps him through it. Listens to him without any judgment and they know that they are the only people in the world who can be vulnerable with each other and be completely understood. Without having to worry about their masculinities. They can tease each other all they want over petty little things of the sort, but in times like this they just listen and talk.

April Fool's day is a biggg day for them. Everyone at school is worried about what they might have in store when Patrick and Art are around. They first go all-out on each other. Shaving cream while the other is sleeping, air horn wake-ups. Rigged sinks that spray water. And on the outside, plastic wrap on the doors, party snaps under toilet seats, fake mice, fake snakes, fake money planted. It's a little bit of chaos, but it all gets done early enough to all be done by noon.

The boys talk like girls about their crushes. When Art has his first kiss, Patrick demands details. The taste of the girl's lip gloss, when, where, did they make out? Did he get to touch her boobs? Immature little questions.

[juana-the-iguana]

Sometimes I just think of fan interpretations of the cut-away between Zuko telling Katara that he knows where the man who killed her mother is and her packing things and getting ready to leave, and Aang and Katara having their last in-person interactions on screen (when they are lone together in EIP and when they are in a group in the finale) be fights to them kissing at the end.

People who support Kat-aang and do not like Zutara (and specifically comment in the Zutara tag about this) often say that Zuko had to convince Katara to go after her mother's killer. A lot of those people also assume that Aang must have apologized to Katara off-screen for the EIP kiss.

I have had a lot of people who share these interpretations accuse me and other people of not having "media literacy" because we can't clearly understand he must have apologized off screen. The irony is that is the exact opposite of the truth.

The cut away between Zuko telling Katara he knew how to find her mother's killer and her getting ready to leave signifies swiftness. Her response to this knowledge is so clear that showing her reaction would actually take away from conveying it. Things are moving fast, her mind was made up right away and she kept moving so the scene did too. And because she is moving so quickly, the audience can fill in the fact that any conversation she may have had with Zuko about this (How do you know this? When did you find out? etc.) did not play a role in her decision to find her mother's killer.

We know from both her past actions (being haunted by her mother's death, her righteous fury) and her future ones (trying to take Appa without talking to Aang or anyone else, telling Sokka that he didn't love their mother like she did, bloodbending) there is nothing Zuko could have said in a period of time that would have been a few hours, tops, that could have made her that angry or driven if those emotions were not already there. Zuko telling Katara he knows where her mother is isn't actually the completion of that narrative moment: her affirming that she needs to confront said killer when her actions are questions is. (I should note that part of the cut away could have been to leave room for a commercial break - I can't remember if that was the case when this aired on television - which would break up the viewing, but does not take away from the fact that Katara's shown response to this knowledge is to leave as quickly as possible).

Now compare that with the EIP kiss. We see the full moment play out, from Aang meeting Katara on the balcony to pressuring her to commit to him to kissing her when her eyes are close to her getting upset to her running away to him reflecting on what happened... Set up, action, response, reflection. This is an emotional scene, Katara is clearly distressed and this is one of the few times we actually see her mad at Aang. Their kiss at the end is another emotional moment, as it marks the culmination of Aang's journey as an Avatar. There needs to be a bridge between these intense scenes for them to make sense. Kat-aangers will argue that the EIP kiss is A and the ending kiss is C, so B must be the implied apology. But if A and C both matter a lot, and there needs to be a connection between the two things, then B should matter a lot too. C is the last scene in the show! This bridge should be shown, or at the very least referenced!

Unlike the TSR scenes, there is so much time between EIP and the finale that there is no clear flow between these moments. To the contrary, there are moments that break up this romantic sub-subplot, from them playing at the beach together again to them fighting again over how to deal with the Fire Lord and Aang running away (something worth noting is that Katara is the last person who is talking when he runs away - he literally left her - and she lets him go after a light touch on the shoulder from Zuko). Fight, friends, fight, love.

Since that B scene, the thing that bridges together Katara and Aang's relationship, is not there, then it either isn't important or did not happen.

Now let's get into media literacy. Media literacy isn't filling in gaps to make things make sense. Media literacy is understanding the messages that a piece of media is sending, intentionally or unintentionally. Even, in theory, if Zuko did have some conversation with Katara convincing her to seek out Yon Ra, it isn't shown and it isn't alluded to, so it doesn't matter. What we are supposed to take away from that episode is that Katara was ready to hunt down Yon Ra, she needed closure and got it, and that Zuko helped her. The same can be said for an apology after EIP. It doesn't matter if one happened off-screen, if it wasn't shown or referenced to, so it isn't important to the narrative. And if Aang making amends for hurting Katara isn't important to the narrative, but her kissing him after he fulfills his duty as the Avatar is, that is a huge statement about their relationship. Katara only rejected Aang because he wasn't an Avatar yet, so the only thing that matters in their relationship is him being the Avatar.

But the thing about media literacy is it isn't just about what is shown on the screen itself. It is about the bigger picture, what this is trying to convey as a message to the viewers.

So what does the gap in time in TSR tell us? Katara is this caring, nurturing friend who, in her brother's words, doesn't hate anyone except the people who took her mother. If she doesn't hate anyone except for the people who took her mother away from her, and she was immediately able to act on that hate when she got the chance to seek closure, then that hurt must have been closer to the surface than anyone thought. She acted fine, but her trauma was still there.

So what does this mean? She was able to address the anger conveyed in the scene in the episode and by the end of it, even though she was still conflicted about Yon Ra, she made peace with Zuko. Zuko whose mere presence caused her distress for weeks, not only because of his betrayal, but because he reminded her of her mother's death. Zuko who became her good friend and saved her life later on. Confronting her demons not only brought her peace, it improved her life tremendously.

So what is the "media literate" message from the lack of apology? The absence conveys is that the most important thing needed for Katara to like Aang was for him to fulfill his role as the Avatar, because that is the only thing that changed in between those two scenes. He didn't treat her any differently, he didn't apologize for hurting her, in fact its vague that he even acknowledged that what he did was wrong because it hurt her (the "I'm so stupid!" could easily mean he blew his chance, not that he cared). And Katara never went through the process of forgiving him or making peace with him wronging her. She never even acknowledged that he underwent a significant change as a person in the last episode either (Aang, who ran away from his duties at the start of the series, faces them head on in the last episode. YMMV on how good that was developed) - if it's not shown, it doesn't matter.

So what does this mean? It doesn't matter when Katara is hurt, conflict resolution doesn't matter, and apparently Aang's personality doesn't matter either. Their interpersonal relationship and emotional connection mean very little. Men do great things and women love them for it, how they act or are treated does not matter.

And before anyone comments "they're kids, it's not a big deal," this is a direct response to accusations about media literacy which, by definition, is a big deal - it's about the messages being made to viewers and its commentary on how society works and how things should be.

[deeversuswords]

a/n: no inspiration? take a shower (joking, or maybe not?). ended up drafting a 3.6k words oneshot that'll probably end up not as one, but two chapters, and I'm so excited about it.

so, here's a small peek at this bakugou katsuki x reader, exes to lovers (there'll be two smut scenes too 👀). hoping my words flow 'cause damn are they letting me down with my wip long fic...

When Katsuki had lost you, he had lost and never felt like he won anymore. When you had walked out through the door, belongings packed, you took a fundamental part of himself with you. Two years later, and his ability to love another was nowhere to be found. He functioned. Crawled through life and achieved. But not once did he stop looking for the traces of you. Still, his efforts were in vain. He never found you again.

The universe refused to answer that one burning wish he had for reasons he no longer understood. Was he bound to feel like this forever? Empty in your absence? Cold when another warmed his bed? Incomplete, despite being almost certain that someone out there had to fit with him? A torment. Every single fucking day. From morning to night, night to morning. Awake or lost in dreams—better yet, nightmares. He dreamed of you so often, his subconscious rubbing the what-ifs in his face. He should’ve kicked his fear of losing you to the curb and showed you off to the whole world instead. Like you deserved. Years and years, he had boasted of being strong, as being the best. Yet when it came to you, he was weak. Weak because life taught him early on how fleeting it could be. One moment here, gone in the next. That thought was rooted in his subconscious, and while it wasn’t an excuse, it made him act out more times than he could count. “I don’t understand. Why can’t we be seen together without all this stupid disguise?” you would ask and his response would always be the same pathetic excuse, “You wanna paint a target on your back that bad?” And you would give him this confused look that never failed to feel like a gut punch before saying, “…I can take care of myself, Kat. You made sure of it. Besides, you’d never let anything happen to me.” "What if I'm not there? What if I am and you end up getting hurt because I didn't see it coming?" would be his argument that rang true to both of you. But it was those what-ifs that bred insecurities, and before he knew it, with tear-stained cheeks and in a small voice, you had said, “I’m just not enough for you, Katsuki. I tried and I failed. I’m tired.” He, too, had tried to stop you, to express his fear. You refused to listen, too fed up with him, too sick of being his “dirty little secret” as you so bluntly put it. His “dirty little secret” you remained for he never talked about you with anyone. Not his parents, not his friends. His heartbreak was his and his only, and Katsuki gladly succumbed to it. He deserved the punishment—to drown in regrets and shame. Katsuki hurt you, his missing half, his person who loved him for him. So, when whatever the hell aligned so that behind the door where his hookup for the night was supposed to be stood you, the last two years flashed before his very eyes. And then, he could swear his whole fucking world exploded in color and light; though, that might’ve just been his heart finally, finally beating in the now.

[yourhighness6]

NATLA Episode 1 Debrief (by yours truly)

Hello my lovlies! There are so many opinions swirling around right now in the fandom and I wanted to give my own opinions a quick (this is not going to be quick but whatever) post of their own. I'm probably going to do this with all of the episodes, just an fyi

First of all, Sozin can fuck all the way off. I don't think I really have to explain that one but goddammit they really made me hate him (and I love to hate the villain)

I LOVE the detail of seeing the flames reflected in his eyes whenever he kills someone, as a symbol of fire's natural brutality consuming him from within. Kudos to whoever added that detail because it is absolutely perfect. I look forward to seeing more of this monster in future flashbacks.

The firebending itself was absolutely brutal. Watching the cartoon, you don't really think about how painful and horrific being burned alive is, and the live action explored that element in a way the previous show could not.

I know this is controversial, but actually really like how they devoted a good ten minutes to establishing some background with the Air Nomads before we dove in. In my opinion, it gave more depth to the Air Nomads besides just what we see through Aang's eyes, which I think helps the viewer connect with him more and sympathize in ways the cartoon didn't. One detail from this part that was absolutely heartbreaking was the Comet Festival.

Something about the way a time of joy was turned into a time of pain and misery was absolutely awful (this was the first time I cried [I cried three times]). The fact that all of the Air Nomads were in one place kind of filled in why there was no evidence of the FN ever having been to the Western Air Temple in s3 of the cartoon. It also adds another layer of awfulness to the whole thing. I can't really put into words why I feel that way, it's just a sort of vibe.

I also liked the way they established Aang's character flaws right off the bat:

The episode was named after him, so it only makes sense to show all aspects of his character almost immediately. This also gives me hope that they might address these flaws later a little more than the cartoon did.

Super glad they included a female Airbender on the counsel (or whatever that was). She was also fighting later and she looked super badass.

Now, onto the Water Tribe.

I can't express how glad I am that they included both boys and girls in Sokka's little warrior pack. People have talked about this before, but the gender roles in the SWT didn't make a lot of sense. Perfect little detail to fill a plot hole.

I am also over the moon that they decided to expand on the differences between the Water Tribe sibling's outlooks on the world. Katara was raised as both a beacon of hope and a liability, whereas Sokka was raised as a warrior and a protector. It gives insight into their characters and also symbolizes the way the war shaped them. The pressure within a society to adapt to the times even as traditional values are abandoned and culture is devastated is something that the original show laid the groundwork for, so I really hope we see the live action build on it further. There's also this:

Gives the perfect insight into the ways their parents leaving affected them both differently and expands on their different mindsets. 10/10 for the sibling dynamic.

I'm not sure if I liked the changes to this scene. Katara was characterized pretty well, in my opinion, and it does make sense with the "toning down" of Sokka's sexism that she didn't explode on him, but it's still an iconic moment I would have liked to see translated to the live action. I also found the fact that Appa wasn't included at all just plain weird. He should have been there, and even if he was established differently later, again, I'm not sure I liked the way Aang was introduced to the siblings. (At least they didn't include any romantic Kat@ang moments. Platonic besties for the win)

Zuko's introduction was just kind of... there, in my opinion, but I did love the detail of the icons on the shelf glowing. There were several homages made to Zuko's search for the avatar that I really appreciated, from the early establishment of his antagonism towards Lieutenant Jee to his pages of research, which I really appreciated. There were also several moments that implied that Zuko had a more spiritual journey throughout his banishment to find the avatar, which was partially a little bit of worldbuilding and partially a play into the idea that he will legitimately try everything possible to find the avatar that was another nice detail. Sadly, Dallas didn't really make a huge impression on me. This might be because of lack of screentime or the fact that this is THE Zuko, but I was kind of expecting more. Still, I don't think it was an irredeemable portrayal by any means, and I look forward to seeing more.

This is sort of random, but I just need to say that I'm glad they included more evidence of Katara's PTSD. It was already pretty established in the cartoon that she did have PTSD, but the live action allows exploration of that in a more mature way, which I appreciate. It made the kat@ang conversation hit that much harder, and gives more depth to Katara's character.

The fight at the gates was also just perfect. Zuko acting on impulse out of a need to prove himself:

Katara's speech and Sokka's change of heart:

And this line:

Sokka kind of fell flat to me a bit in this episode, and I feel like Katara was the MVP in all of their interactions, but I loved this line. I just have a feeling he really needed to hear this.

There's also this moment that I thought was really significant where it looked like Zuko was actually going to kill Sokka:

My heart legit stopped at this part. Like, I knew it made no logical sense for it to happen, but I still got scared for a moment. I know it was just another one of those moments to show how Zuko's anger gets the best of him, ect, ect. but this was overkill. I don't think they took it too far by any means, but it was still just so unexpected.

I also noticed they removed the zukka parallel of the two of them getting ready for battle at the same time, which I really disliked. It plays more into the warrior mindset for the both of them, and even though we had that established in other ways, I would have still liked to see it.

Aang's sacrifice is the same, but I appreciated his little conversation with Iroh. When Iroh showed up, I half expected him to just let Aang go, but I guess that wouldn't really be in character for season 1 Iroh. Either way, that was some good stuff.

The framing also sort of reminds me of the season 3 conversation between Zuko and Iroh when Iroh is in prison back in the FN. Both shots give the impression that it is not actually the one behind bars who is in prison. This makes me think that they might give Iroh more of an arc in season 1, which I would kind of like to see, but at the same time, I'm not sure about. I think it was important in the cartoon that Iroh had already completed his journey and was doing his best to guide Zuko through a similar one.

I am disappointed that they removed the fight scene between Zuko and Aang inside the ship, but there was another huge moment this allowed for that I REALLY LOVED:

I LOVE that they let Katara have her hero moment I LOVE that they let her discover her bending a bit more in this episode I LOVE that Aang helped her I LOVE IT ALL. Katara gaining more confidence in her abilities is the season 1 Katara arc I want to see and they legit made me fangirl over this moment so much I squealed. There's also something about her blocking a fire blast from Zuko after being powerless to stop him from killing/seriously hurting her brother in the earlier fight that's just... chefs kiss. (also maybe establishing that ZK yin and yang concept early... I'm reading way too much into this but the way Katara's arms are positioned kind of looks like the yin symbol a little bit...)

And finally, we have the air temple scene. The whole thing was so incredibly sad, and I actually didn't mind that it was part of the first episode. It makes everything go full circle, in my opinion.

I also thought that Gyatso's voice instead of Katara's being the one to calm Aang down was a really good choice. Aang coming to terms with his death should be about his memories with his past mentor, not about Katara comforting him. I loved the hug though. Perfectly devastating:

Also, the last parallel at the end was just SO perfect:

Something about how tradgedies in their lives forced them both to become dedicated and adapt to a new world beyond their control. Aang and Zuko parallels always wonderful.

Overall, I really enjoyed it! I would give this episode an 8.5/10. Not perfect, but definitely not bad. It surpassed my expectations and I'm so excited to see more!

[bellisima-writes]

August Fanfic Roundup

Good morning fandom readers,

I was able to read a bit more this month than last, but still not much. Quality over quantity, right? Here is a round up of the goodies I was able to gobble up in between the craziness that is my life:

Lesser known fiction (a shout out to some of the newer writers in our community!):

A Place for the End of the World by @kitty-kat-undercover - E - 77k

Three weeks after Aziraphale left for Heaven the Second Coming is fast approaching. A heartbroken Crowley decides to return to an old friend's home in Canada to live out the last few days before the end of the world

This was a beautifully written and original take on how Crowley and Aziraphale's story could end. The author has an incredible ability to paint a robust picture with their words, really dropping you into the landscape and feel of the story. There is a tenderness and a joy to the characters and the prose that paint the whole thing in a hopeful light; something I don't think we see too much in our angsty post season 2 world (my works included).

The story includes characters from the show as well as some wonderful original ones, all of them bursting with love and fondness for the world and each other that really shines through on the page. If you want a romantic character study of Crowley's journey through his grief and Aziraphale's discovery of his own bravery, then this is a great choice.

Apus by @notalostcausejustyet - E - 3.6K

A beautifully written one shot about the power of love, both of another but also of yourself, and the discoveries that can be born from that love.

It's a soft and sexy snapshot of the ways in which Aziraphale and Crowley continue to teach each other things about themselves, how their adoration of the other enables self discovery in both, and the power of love throughout it all.

@notalostcausejustyet is not just an amazing author, but an incredible human being. Definitely check out this and their other work!

Well known Post S2 fiction (stuff most of you have read but I am still catching up on):

scherzo in f-sharp minor, for orchestra by @astrhae - M - 23K

Two years after leaving, Aziraphale turns up at Crowley's doorstep without his memories.

Told entirely through Crowley's POV, this story packs a LOT into relatively few words. The prose are poetic and the reader is taken on a journey through a selection of vignettes and snippets that are weaved together to tell a complete Second Coming story.

The historical references stand out here, as well as the almost cinematic way I felt as though I was being pulled along through a montage of images and scenes, never lingering too long but fully feeling the weight of each of as they pulled together to tell the story.

The focus here is entirely on Aziraphale and Crowley and their journey to save the world and get back to each other. Not sure if there's anyone left who hasn't read this, but if you want a beautifully written but relatively short Season 3 what if story with a laser sharp focus, this is for you.

Classic fiction (reserved for older pre and post season 1 works only):

Married at First Sight by @aracloptia - T - 147k

A little young to be a classic but it was started before season 2 so I think it counts.

Human AU in which Aziraphale and Crowley join a reality TV series where they meet one another at their own wedding and have to stay married for six weeks before deciding whether or not to break up or stay together. Things start off rocky for the pair, and after a while they decide on an arrangement of their own to help them survive the remaining length of their marriage while also minimizing their own humiliation.

This one was a joy to read: sweet, funny, beautifully written, with wonderful (and sometimes tragic) characterizations and depth that likely doesn't belong in an AU about a reality TV show. Not to mention how brilliantly crafted it was - I actually had to message the author at the end of one chapter to ask them HOW they made it all work so well!

I was at the point this month between all of the heavy post season 2 canon stuff I had been reading as well as writing my own darker AU, I needed a palate cleanser to lighten the mood. And this was PERFECT.

I am partial to human AU's, and this one joins some of my favorites alongside Slow Show, Old Vines, What We Make It (Shotgun Wedding) and For His Eyes Only. I know this one has been making the rounds on my side of tumblr (it's how I found it myself) but if you've still not read it, you definitely should! You won't be disappointed.

I am also reading a few awesome WIPs by some of my mutuals that I hope to include next time! I'm just a wee bit bogged down with the start of the school year as well as trying to pull together my own WIP.

Til next month!