#you can go ahead and practice by blocking me

[woodlaflababab]

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- Sincerely, A Zukaang Shipper

Every time I get recommended a Zuko x Aang post, I get severely upset

And then I check the comments to see if anyone will point out how Aang’s 12 and Zuko’s 16, only for NOBODY to be doing it and instead all the comments are like “OMG SO CUTE!!!!! 🥰🥰🥰🤭🤭🤭🤭😍😍😍😍”

YK what I think is cute? You being on a governmental watchlist 😜

[kateschi]

get them fangirls away!

synopsis: katsuki’s greatest battle isn’t on the field—it’s surviving relentless fangirls. good thing he has you to shield him

pairing: secondyear!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

katsuki doesn’t run away from fights. he’s a fighter—loud, explosive, and always ready for a challenge.

but this?

this is different. this is a nightmare of his own making, and no amount of explosions is going to fix it.

“dynamight-senpai!” the shrill voices echo down the hallway like a siren’s call, and katsuki’s eye twitches.

his palms spark with irritation as he quickens his pace, trying to lose them in the maze of ua corridors.

but they’re relentless, chasing after him like their lives depend on it. why the hell don’t these brats know when to quit?

“dynamight-senpai! wait for us!”

he clenches his jaw. they’re like a pack of wolves, except these wolves ask for autographs and selfies instead of sinking their teeth in. still, they’re dangerous.

his eyes dart around, scanning the hallway for any possible escape route, when he spots you up ahead.

you’re leaning casually against your locker, completely unaware of the chaos barrelling toward you.

a plan clicks into place immediately.

he pushes off the ground, sprinting towards you with quick, desperate steps.

the frantic pounding of his footsteps catches your attention just as he skids to a stop behind you, ducking down to use you as a human shield.

“katsuki—what the hell are you doing?” you ask, eyes wide with confusion as you turn to face him.

“fangirls!” he hisses, crouching even lower behind you, his breath slightly ragged. his red eyes flicker toward the hallway entrance where the fangirls are rounding the corner, their faces lighting up the moment they spot him.

before you can ask any more questions, the first-years come to a screeching halt in front of you, out of breath but still buzzing with excitement.

they don’t even seem to notice you, their eyes locked onto katsuki who is half-hidden behind you like a kid caught in trouble.

“dynamight-senpai!” the leader squeals, pushing her way to the front of the group. “we’ve been looking all over for you!”

katsuki grits his teeth and curses under his breath, barely peeking over your shoulder. his hand grips your shoulder a little tighter, holding onto you for dear life.

“go away,” he growls, but his usual explosive tone is muffled by your presence, sounding more irritated than intimidating.

the fangirls, however, are undeterred. in fact, they seem even more excited by the sight of their idol so close—and apparently, within reach.

“we just want a picture, dynamight-senpai!” one of them pleads, her eyes sparkling with admiration. “just one, please?”

“no,” he snaps, but it’s lacking the usual bite. his eyes dart to yours, desperation flashing across his face for a split second. “damn it, why won’t they leave?”

you bite back a laugh. the mighty katsuki, hiding behind his girlfriend from a group of over-eager first-years. this is too good.

taking a step forward, you square your shoulders and block katsuki from view even more. “I think you heard him. he said no.”

the leader of the fangirls blinks, her enthusiasm faltering just a bit as she finally acknowledges your presence. “wait... are you...?”

you raise an eyebrow, your lips curling into a knowing smirk. “yeah, I’m his girlfriend.”

the words hang in the air for a moment, and you can practically see the wave of shock that ripples through the group.

the girls exchange stunned looks, their expressions ranging from disbelief to awe.

“dynamight-senpai has a girlfriend?!” one of them whispers, her eyes going wide.

katsuki smirks as he straightens up a little behind you. “yeah, you heard her. my girlfriend. and if you don’t back off, she’ll beat your asses into the ground.”

you glance back at him, giving him a pointed look. “seriously? that’s your plan?”

“damn right it is,” he mutters, crossing his arms as if he’s made the smartest move ever. “they’re annoyin’ the hell outta me. figured I’d let you handle it.”

one of the girls in the back gasps, clutching her hands to her chest.

“wait, we didn’t mean to upset him! we’re just...we’re such big fans of dynamight-senpai! he’s so amazing!”

“yeah!” another chimes in, her eyes wide and pleading. “we didn’t mean any harm!”

you sigh, looking them over. they’re not bad kids—just... overly enthusiastic.

but katsuki is your boyfriend, and while you’re used to his temper, you’re not about to let anyone, even a group of fangirls, mess with him.

“look, I get it,” you say, your tone softening slightly, though you still keep it firm.

“you’re excited and all, but katsuki isn’t some kind of photo op. he’s just trying to get through his day. how about you give him some space?”

the leader looks embarrassed now, her earlier excitement faltering. “we didn’t mean to bother him...”

katsuki huffs from behind you. “you did.”

you glance at him over your shoulder, shaking your head slightly. “so helpful.”

he grumbles under his breath but stays quiet, letting you handle it. you turn back to the girls, offering them a small smile. “just...be respectful, okay?”

the leader nods quickly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “y-yeah, we’ll leave him alone. sorry for bothering you, dynamight-senpai and h/n-senpai.”

katsuki grunts, obviously relieved they’re finally getting the hint. the group lingers for a moment longer before they start shuffling away down the hall, their chatter much quieter now.

once they are gone, you turn to katsuki, raising an eyebrow. “so... hiding behind your girlfriend now? that’s a new one.”

he scowls, though the faint blush creeping up his neck was hard to miss. “shut up. I wasn’t hiding.”

you can’t help but laugh, nudging him with your shoulder. “sure, ‘cause using me as a shield isn’t hiding.”

“tch. you handled it, didn’t you?” he shoves his hands into his pockets, avoiding your gaze. “better than blowin’ ‘em up.”

you smile, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “you’re lucky I’ve got your back.”

he grumbles something under his breath, clearly too stubborn to admit you were right, but he takes his hand out of his pocket to intertwine your fingers together.

of course, that isn’t without a side-eye when you grin.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[mostly-imagines]

At Least I’m Not Alone at the Wake

jason todd x fem!reader

aka how jason feels safe even when he feels like he’s dying

HEY today we’re going to play a game where we practice reblogging fics: if you read this and like it—reblog!! ie, if you like and dont reblog i might block bc im getting sick of the lack of decorum

warnings: angst w comfort throughout

It took less than thirty seconds for the silence of the night to drift into sounds of shrieks echoing off the buildings along the street. The sharp contrast had you and Jason bolting upright on the couch, ears on alert. It only took a few seconds more of listening for you to realize you’re not hearing shouting—it’s laughter. Maniacal, uncontrolled laughter. 

There’s a beat as you both freeze upon the implication, the unsettling realization dropping in on you. You barely have a moment to process it before Jason’s pushing up from the couch and heading towards the bathroom.

“Close the window,” he grumbles.

You blink as you register his words before jumping up to do as told, quickly sliding the frame shut and locking it. He returns soon with an armful of towels in hand, and you stand back as he stuffs a couple along the window sill with rough movements. He goes throughout the apartment, doing the same to the other windows. He rounds back to the living room window, looking down at the street with a heavy look on his face. 

You trust that the towels will do their job in preventing the laughing gas from getting in the apartment, but they’re unable to block out the bellows of hysteria.

He backs away from the window, letting the living room wall hold his weight. You both listen to the harrowing echoes with still bodies. 

You watch him, waiting for a reaction. You don’t mean to, but you know you’re looking at him like he’s a loaded spring. You try not to, you know how much he hates how his family does that to him, but fuck, it’s hard not to worry about him.

When Joker incidents have come up, they’ve usually been something you’re able to ignore or even get ahead of and drive out of the city. But this is raucous and chaotic, clearly enough to shut down the city from the inside. Besides, Jason would be booking it out of here if he thought there was any chance of a clean getaway in this.

But you know he’s got no interest in inserting himself in anything Joker related, especially something so destabilizing.

While you know Jason’s family cares about him, of course they do, but you’ve noticed they sometimes put Gotham’s needs first and his second. So the severity of this attack is concerning for you for two reasons.

“Will they…” you shuffle, “Will they need you?”

He’s quick to answer, voice firm. “No.” A long moment passes before he adds on, quieter, “They won’t want me out there.”

You nod to yourself, trying to relax your body. You being on edge isn’t going to help him.

You watch as his head thumps against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. He’s tough—you know he’s tough. He can withstand a hell of a lot more than you’ll probably ever even know. But even for Gotham, this is a lot. And even for someone who hasn’t been through what Jason has, the ringing repetitions of laughter are maddening. You wonder if this is what the Joker hears in his head. You wonder if this is what Jason heard.

The intensity of the laughing increases, more people likely becoming exposed to the gas. You think you can hear it in one of your neighbor’s apartments too.

He thumps his head against the drywall again, hands clenching at his sides. It takes one more forceful thud for you to move over to him, cradling your hand to the side of his head, holding him still. He lets you, though he still doesn’t open his eyes.

“Jay,” you say softly, stroking his hair. “Let’s take a shower, yeah?” Normally you’d try for a bath to calm him instead but you hope the waterfall from the shower might be enough to drown out the noise.

He takes a second to respond, letting your hand bear the weight of his head. “Yeah.”

His voice is splintered though, and his shoulders droop as he stands up fully. He waits to move until you start to lead him, flinching at every spike of laughter. You reach back and take his hand, giving it two squeezes. He squeezes your hand back but doesn’t loosen his grip.

As you enter the bathroom he wastes no time getting straight to the shower nozzle and turning it on. You press the door shut behind you, sealing out a decent portion of the chaos. You decide against turning the overhead light on, opting instead to let the small pink-shaded lamp provide a warm glow that you can easily maneuver throughout the shadows in. You figure he needs a more tranquil atmosphere than the harsh white light the bathroom ceiling can provide.

You turn to him in time to catch him pulling his shirt up harshly, movements jerked and impatient.

You place a gentle hand on his forearm, “Hey.”

He pauses his actions, eyes on the floor.

You don’t say anything else, but he understands your objection regardless. You remove your touch and he peels his shirt off slower, kinder to himself. 

You wait to make sure he continues this method with the rest of his clothes before you start to remove yours.

The downpour of water on the tiles does it’s intended job in creating your own little sanctum away from the noise. You climb into the shower after him, standing in the stray mist sprays that made their way past him. The bits of water that do manage their way to you are hot���not scalding, but hot enough that you know his chest is going to start getting numb very soon standing in front of the stream like this. 

You trace lines over the muscles of his back, outlining them and every little indent of a scar. When you run out of canvas on his back you move onto his arms, right then left.

It’s not until you trace down his wrist that you realize his head is angled down. You don’t need to be standing in front of him to know that his focus is zeroed in on his scar and you’re not sure how long it's been that way. Too long, in any case.

“Jay,” you say so softly that the water nearly drowns you out. “Will you look at me, please?”

He does turn to you, slowly, but he doesn’t look up.

You hold his face in your hands, nudging him to look up at you. He looks tired, drained. 

You know he has to hear that laughter in a different way than you do. It’s uncomfortable and frightening for you, but for him, it’s layers upon layers of the sound he heard while he was being beaten to death. And even beyond that horrible trauma, the reminder of it brings forth every memory of what happened afterwards, not to mention the heavy baggage you know he feels over being here at all. And you can see it all mulling behind his eyes.

“You know I love you,” you tell him with sincerity. His gaze stays heavy and you can tell it’s a struggle for him to hold the eye contact.

You lean up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, catching his bottom lip slightly. Your next kiss meets his lips fully. You have to push up on your toes a little bit but he does the work of meeting you halfway. It’s a slow, intimate exchange, as fluid and serene as breathing.

“I love all of you,” you murmur against his lips. You let your hands fall to his chest, resting as gently as they can over his pecs. “Everything about you.”

You kiss the top of his Y scar, trailing down soft pecks to where it forks off. You feel his shoulders sag a bit, tension forcing its way out of him. You lean down to continue your kisses down the vertical line marking his abdomen, your hands lightly following in your wake.

He says your name painfully, like he’s begging you to stop. You’ll give him partial reprieve, taking his hands in yours and kissing his scarred knuckles. It’s his instinct to push affection away, you know that, but you also know that he needs it. That’s why he doesn’t stop you now—he knows he needs it—it’s just a lot for him all at once, emotionally. Which is why he gives no warning before he picks you up by your thighs and pulls you close. 

He’s got you a full head higher than him and he uses the difference to hide his face in your neck. Sometimes he feels like that’s the only place he can go. He maneuvers you around so your back is pressed up against the wall as you hold each other tight.

You stay in there like that until the water runs cold, and then some. You have to nudge him a bit into setting you back down then, but he does, letting you collect and wrap the both of you in towels. The second the water turns off you can hear the cackling through the walls. 

As you return to the bedroom, he only bothers to pull on a pair of boxers before collapsing his weight onto the mattress. The lack of layers won’t help him any, but you know why he did it.

He can’t always look after himself the way he should—he disregards his own needs and has trouble even thinking of what could help him. You’ve developed a mind for it though—for him—and you know that being exposed and vulnerable like this isn’t going to help him calm down. He prefers being covered up when he’s stressed, it gives him more security, you think.

You open up the dresser and dig through for his most comfortable hoodie and sweatpants. He takes them from you, but he looks remiss at the thought of exerting anymore energy right now, so you help him tug on the clothes, successfully blocking out the now icy air from the AC. 

Once he’s fully clothed he pulls you forward to sit on his lap. You stumble a bit on the way but he compensates by holding you very tight, not giving your body any option to fall. His grip on you tells you that he’s not concerned with you getting dressed too, which you’re perfectly willing to oblige.

You have to force him to let you break away a little bit so you can reach over to the nightstand and grab your phone and earbuds.

“Movie or music?”

He doesn’t say anything, only nods his head once at the end of your sentence. You take that to mean music and open up your playlist on your phone, handing him the headphones.

There’s a harsh spike in the hysterics outside, mixed with what sounds like screams, and it has Jason flinching hard. You think you can see tears welled in his eyes as he fumbles to get the headphones in his ears. He takes the phone from you and picks the first song he sees and turns the volume up, up, up.

You shift yourself around so that you’re laying back against the pillows, giving him room to lay down over your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist with a firm grip. You pull the hood up over his head, but keep your hands woven underneath, threading through his hair. 

His cheek mushes against your bare stomach, and with the way he’s laying, you’re sure the earbuds are digging uncomfortably into his ear. He makes no effort to move in any case. You can hear the song playing word for word, and while the noise exposure concerns you, if there was ever a time to let it go, it would be now.

You’re both wrapped up nicely in the blankets and you can only see the tip of his nose and a few strands of ivory hair strewn past his forehead. Despite all the snug layers, he shakes a bit under your touch.

He falls asleep before the problem outside gets wrapped up, and you turn down the music. Not all the way, just enough that he can rest in peace. 

After a while the giggles die down and aside from a few first responder sirens, things get quiet again. About twenty minutes later, Nightwing ducks in through your window and scares the hell out of you. The interaction does not, however, wake Jason up, which is how you know tonight took a very heavy toll on him.

Even though the lights aren’t on in your bedroom you slide down from the pillows a bit more and let the blanket and Jason drown your chest out from visibility.

Nightwing gives you a silent, if not awkward, wave and scans over Jason. Even in the dark can see the worry in his eyes. He looks back up at you and throws up a questioning thumbs up with a tilt of his head.

You nod and he nods back slowly as he takes one more look at his brother before hopping out the window.

You peer down at Jason and brush his curls back gently. His hold on you tightens just a bit as he turns in his sleep.

reblog things or get out seriously

[notyourjaem]

5% tint ☆ c. yeonjun

☆ PAIRING: sugardaddy!yeonjun x collegestudent!reader (f)

☆ GENRE: smut (18+ readers only! dont make me block you)

☆ SUMMARY: you didn't think that doing well on an exam would mean that you would be fucked in the front seat of a porsche; good thing your sugar daddy has 5% tint.

☆ WORD COUNT: 1.2K

☆ WARNINGS: gendered terms are used (girl), semi public sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, lots of praise from yeonjun, yeonjun drives a porsche (I think its a valid warning), yeonjun is wearing rings, making out, creampie kink perhaps?, dirty talk, obviously car sex!! lmk if i forgot anything its almost 1am and im an old lady.

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: so heres part of the concept that I literally could not stop yapping about if I tried. combining my interests here: a hot man taking care of me and a porsche of my dreams. I am actually considering making this a series, with a backstory and everythingg so lmk your thots :)

a big thank you to @silvergyus @nightlyawnzz @hearts4huening for being my beta readers for this, and I may use your services in the future.

CLICK HERE TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST!

walking to the front of your lecture hall, you collected the results from your latest exam. After finding your name in the pile of papers, you could barely contain your excitement when you saw the boldly printed 100% on the front.

Yeonjun would be so happy.

You quickly walked back to collect your things, before pulling out your phone to text him since he was picking you up from class.

you: going to be walking out in a few. I have good results!!

yeonjun: ahh my smart girl. I'm waiting for you out front.

Soon after you walked out through the double doors of the building that you were in, spotting Yeonjun’s gray Porsche parked up front.

Yeonjun had a pretty dark window tint, so you couldn’t see inside that well. You opened the door, and slid into the passenger seat; Yeonjun beaming.

“There’s my girl.” He had the biggest smile on his face. “Look at you, dressed all cute.” He was referencing your plaid skirt and big crewneck sweatshirt that was actually his.

“Did you just come from the office or something?” You asked him, leaning in to kiss him. “You look so nice.” You smoothed your hand over his button down dress shirt, making him smirk.

“Now let me see this test, huh?”

“Okay.” You quickly dug the scantron out of your folder that you had. Handing it over to Yeonjun, leaning over his center console as he examined it.

He was smirking.

“Yeah, one hundred percent.” You spoke with a huge smile on your face.

“Ah, see I knew you’d do well.” Yeonjun put his hand onto your jaw to kiss you.

You hummed against his mouth, pulling him closer by his shirt. “I missed you last night, daddy.” You kissed him again.

Yeonjun smirked against your lips before pulling away slightly. “Yeah? You know I want you to focus on your school too.”

“I know, but sometimes it’s easier to study when I’m sitting on your lap. You know?” You reached down to feel Yeonjun’s cock, which to your surprise was half erect.

“With my cock inside of you? Princess, you know you can’t focus.”

You remembered the time you swore that you would sit still and study on Yeonjun’s lap while he worked. You didn’t last five minutes before you were fucking yourself on his cock.

You pouted as Yeonjun moved to kiss you towards your neck. “But I’m such a good girl for you, Daddy.”

Yeonjun practically choked back a moan; if his cock wasn’t hard before, it definitely was now. “And I always reward you, don’t I?”

He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt, then went to unbuckle his belt to lower his pants. You let out an audible noise when he finally lowered his underwear, leaky, pretty cock out on full display.

“Go ahead and sit on it, pretty girl.” Yeonjun spoke, shuddering slightly when he swiped the tip with his thumb.

You felt a sudden tinge of shyness when you took off your shoes. Yeonjun could practically read your mind.

“The tints are too dark; no one can see you.”

“Okay, help me.” You answered, slightly laughing at the fact that you were going to climb over the console of a car that cost as much as your parents' house.

“I got you.” Yeonjun held onto you. Before you sat down on him, he pulled the fabric of your underwear out of the way.

“Oh my- fuck, you’re so wet.” Yeonjun gasped. “I’ll slip right fucking in.”

You lowered yourself onto him, and it was painfully slow; making you feel every inch of his cock.

Yeonjun was seconds away from ruining his leather with his fingernails with the way that he was gripping onto the passenger seat.

“Daddy…your cock. Fuck.” You sighed, dropping your head into his neck; taking a breath of his sweet cologne. He was fully inside of you, nuzzled up into that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Yeah, baby I know.” His hands were roaming your thighs and ass. Your underwear was cutting into you, but you couldn’t care less.

You slowly started to grind onto him, trying to find a rhythm in the limited space that you had. Yeonjun looked ahead, subtly watching if anyone walked by his car.

“You look so pretty, you know.” He spoke into your ear. “My dick inside of you in the front seat of my Porsche.” He suddenly gripped onto your hips, fucking you onto his cock.

“You’re my good girl, you know that?”

You couldn’t even answer, just let out a whimper of a moan.

“Repeat it back to me, baby.” His grip was so tight you thought his rings were going to make marks in your skin.

“I’m your…good girl.” You nearly choked on your words. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Yeonjun could already tell by the way that you were clenching around him, and he probably wasn’t going to last much longer himself.

Yeonjun turned your face to look at him in one quick movement. “Yeah? I’m so fucking deep in you aren’t I?” His voice was low; you knew what he was doing.

The sounds of your cunt were obscene; Yeonjun loved every second of it. He studied your face as he angled your hips differently, cockhead hitting so deep that your jaw fell slack.

You’ve never looked so pretty to him. Honors student studying biology. Probably going to end up being a doctor. He knew you’d be decorated in cords at your graduation. But now, he was hitting so deep you couldn’t form a coherent sentence if you tried.

Letting out a rather loud whine when your orgasm finally hit you, Yeonjun kissed you, shushing you. After all, his car only had a tint; not soundproofing.

“Cum in me. Please, daddy.” You were nearly delirious, whimpering expletives. Yeonjun knew you were actually being serious, because you always begged him to. “That’s my reward, right?”

And how could he say no? Not when you were whining, begging as you pulled on his necklace to kiss him.

“You can take it all?” He asked. Stupid question. You always could, even if he had to fuck it back into you.

You eagerly nodded, lips jutting out to a pout before you kissed him again.

“God you drive me fucking insane.” Yeonjun’s last words before letting go of his orgasm that he was trying to hang onto. “You feel so fucking good.”

The fact that he was probably making a mess out of his seat was sent to the back of his mind. He’d deal with that later, because the moan that you let out made it all worth it.

“Fuck.” He was panting. “You have to be quiet.” Grinding his hips with yours; his cock was still inside of you making you slightly wince at how messy everything felt.

“Shit.” You muttered, looking down at where the two of your bodies connected.

“Yeah, I made a fuckin mess.” Yeonjun jokes, his hands roaming your thighs. “We should probably go back to my place….” His voice trailed off like it was a question.

“Hmm?” You were confused. “I thought you texted me earlier that you wanted to go to the Prada store, no?”

“Yes…” Yeonjun bit down on his bottom lip, smirking. “But I don’t think I'm finished with you yet.”

☆ TAGS: @mhasimp666 @yunsbby @sikkkko

(strike through indicates I am unable to tag, please make sure your tagging feature is turned on!)

[wonderjanga]

Was wondering about for your post 'captain is a terrible dad' if junior somehow convinces the league through the power of misunderstanding that 'billy' is the newest actual baby of the family? Like maybe tim is talking to junior about his younger siblings(damian stabbing him or smth), and Junior tells him about Billy and since they never heard about him before they think marvel just had another baby? Even worse if you also include the au where people think Marvel and Adam are exes and they think Marvel got close to him again?

Ever since Tim learned about Marvel having a new kid, he’s been thinking about it nonstop. It’s been bugging him and he really wants to ask about it. The only problem? Every time he’s tried to approach Marvel to ask about it, something has question-blocked him.

Robin!Tim: “Marvel, can we talk?”

Marvel: “Sure, what’s up?” *smiles*

Robin!Tim: “Well-”

Marvel: *comm rings and he realizes it’s an emergency* “Sorry, I gotta go. We’ll talk later right?” *flies off*

Eventually, after a week of this, Tim finally got his chance in one of the watchtower’s kitchens.

Robin!Tim: “Marvel , can I ask you something?”

Marvel: “Sure, go ahead.” *stirring something in a bowl*

Tim had spent the past week practicing how the conversation would go, yet didn’t even think about how he would start it.

Robin!Tim: *just decides to rip off the band-aid* “Uh… Why do you keep having kids if you hate them?”

Marvel: *slowly stops stirring his bowl so he stop and stare incredulously*

Robin!Tim: “It’s- It’s the little things. Like the little looks of disgust when they say something a kid their age would say. Or like the blatant disregard you have for their safety. Or the threats of violence.”

Marvel: *puts the bowl down* “What-”

Robin!Tim: “Like isn’t it parenting 101 that you don’t tell your kid they should’ve been lobotomized??”

Marvel: *forgot he said that to Mary the other day* “Uh-”

Robin!Tim: “And then there’s the fact that if I asked, you wouldn’t even be able to tell me where even one of them are at this moment, would you? They could be kidnapped, or lost, or in some other deep shit and you wouldn’t even notice! I haven’t seen this level of negligence in anything other than my own parents, and they didn’t even notice their own child sneaking out at night to take pictures of Batman!”

Marvel: *sounds concerned* “You were neglected-”

Robin!Tim: *grabs a nearby stool, hops on, then stands on his tippy toes so he can look Marvel straight in the face* “And don’t get me started on Black Adam! Why in the world would you even want to get back with him??”

Marvel: *sounds horrified because that inplies they were together at some point* “Who told you that?”

Robin!Tim: “What do you mean who told me that?? It’s obvious to literally everyone!”

Marvel: *looks around as if looking for hidden cameras* “Is it though-”

Robin!Tim: “YES! It is. What on earth could you possibly see in him? There are literally multiple videos of him throwing both you and your kids through buildings.”

Marvel: *goes back to looking for the hidden cameras*

Robin!Tim: *continues his rant* “And then you decided to do the worse possible thing you could do in this situation which was bring in another kid?? What is wrong with you???”

Marvel: *a little speechless but finally gets something out without being cut off for the 50 millionth time* “What do you mean bring in another kid?”

Robin!Tim: “Billy!”

Marvel: “Billy??” *sounds more confused now*

Robin!Tim: “The baby!”

Marvel: “Wha…? Billy isn’t the baby, Darla is??”

Robin!Tim: “Who is Darla???”

Marvel: *realizes he said her actual name* “The purple one.”

Robin!Tim: “She has a name??” *just completely confused now* “Then who’s Billy??”

Marvel: “He’s just some kid that doesn’t have powers.”

Robin!Tim: “He’s not one of your kids…?”

Marvel: “No? I don’t have kids?”

Robin!Tim: “Then how are you related to Junior and Mary and all the other kids??”

Marvel: “We’re siblings? They have a mom and a dad, Robin.”

Robin!Tim: *pauses* “That still doesn’t excuse the fact that you let a bunch of preteens run around fighting crime on their own, unsupervised. Also why are you so much older than them if you’re siblings?”

Solomon: “Say they’re several thousands of years old.”

Marvel: “They’re all several thousands of years old. They’re not idiots. They can fight on their own. As for me? I’m several tens of thousands of years old.”

Robin!Tim: *dumbfounded*

Marvel: “Now what was this about being neglected by your parents?”

Marvel then proceeded to get Tim to trauma dump about his parents, about his vigilante life, and about everything else.

Robin!Tim: “I just can’t believe they didn’t notice!”

Marvel: “That’s terrible.” *hands him the bowl from earlier*

Robin!Tim: “I know!” *absent-minded, stirring of bowl*

By the way, I almost finished this and then lost all the progress so I had to redo all of this. If I hadn’t lost all the progress, it would’ve came out yesterday night. So unfortunately, you’re stuck with the shittier version of this post as I continue to ride off the waves of anger that I still feel boiling inside of me. Rewriting this post made me almost crash out at 12:35 in the morning.

[moonstruckme]

Hi, I love the emt!marauders you post, I was wondering if u could write one that the reader has a chronic disease that involves getting sore when it's cold? Idk how to explain, I have lupus, and when it's cold, my joints tend to get sensitive and sore...so something with fluff/comfort, pls?

Thank you for requesting my love <3

cw: reader has unspecified chronic pain that flares up in the cold, I relied on the internet to write this so if anything seems wrong/inaccurate please let me know

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 887 words

Sirius is furious with himself for not checking the weather report. It’s so rare that you all have time off work on the same day, it’s possible you’d gotten ahead of yourselves in the excitement, but the sudden onset of winter wasn’t part of anyone’s plan. Even in Remus’ coat and tucked under James’ arm, you’ve gone quiet and withdrawn. Sirius can practically see you cringing with every step you take down the sidewalk. 

The other boys are similarly concerned.

“Let’s pop in here,” James suggests, maneuvering you all towards a bookstore. 

“Jamie,” you say, voice all sweetness even when it’s threaded through with exhaustion, “don’t go in somewhere you don’t want to just for me.” 

“Doll, I know how it might seem that way,” says Sirius, “but despite popular misconception, James actually can read.” 

You crack a smile, though it looks like it costs you. “Right, thanks, but we’re supposed to be out doing things we all like. If we went into a bookstore, you two would just end up sitting somewhere while Remus and I looked around.” 

“I like seeing you comfortable,” James says, somewhat poutily, “and I like buying you things. A bookstore is sounding rather enjoyable right now.” 

“Don’t you want to go inside?” Remus touches his knuckles gently underneath the butterfly-shaped rash on your cheeks that’s worsening due to the sun and cold. It’s not a terribly frigid day but the wind makes it worse, and however you try to act your boyfriends can see the toll it’s taking on you. “Even if it’s just for a while, it’ll be good to give yourself a break.” 

“Rem’s cold too,” Sirius says, noting the tension in the other boy’s posture now that he’s given up his coat, “aren’t you, lovely? C’mon, I know where we can go.” 

You don’t seem to have it in you to protest as Sirius leads you all down the block to the coffee shop around the corner. The heat is blasting inside. He finds you a table away from the door, where the cold breeze coming in can’t reach you and the whirring of the coffee grinders is less deafening. James insists on buying you each a warm beverage and a sweet (only you and Remus protest this; Sirius doesn’t know why you bother). 

“My poor girl,” Sirius murmurs, holding your frozen hands carefully in his. Remus’ coat pockets have done an insufficient job protecting them. Sirius devotes himself to rubbing warmth into each finger. 

“I think my drink would do as good a job of warming them up,” you say amusedly. 

“As good? I’m insulted.” 

“You know she really should be stretching her joints herself, love,” says Remus. 

“I do know,” Sirius replies primly, “thank you very much. It’s only that I’m very selfish.” 

Remus hums into his tea. “Selfish enough to let her drink go cold.” 

Sirius relents and lets you pick up your mug. You squeeze his hands thankfully before letting go. 

The windows at the front of the shop are foggy. It’s not cold enough yet for frost around the edges, but the mist gives the bustling street a blurred, wintry look, like the four of you are encapsulated in a warm snow globe scene, unmoving and separate from the outside world. Sirius finds it rather peaceful. 

“Did anyone bring ibuprofen?” James asks. 

You cringe sheepishly. “No, sorry. I forgot it at home.” 

“Don’t be sorry, lovie.” James palms the back of your neck, thumb rubbing soothingly. “Any of us could’ve thought of it. We’ll stop somewhere and grab a bottle.” 

“It never hurts to have extra,” Remus agrees before you can argue. 

“Okay,” you say, voice gone soft as it often does when you feel your boyfriends are taking too much notice of you. Sirius doesn’t understand your aversion to this in the slightest. “Thanks.” 

“It’s ungodly freezing out,” Sirius complains. “I move that we make a coffee shop stop every two blocks.” 

James’ face lights. “It could be like appetizer hopping—”

“But with pastries,” Sirius finishes. 

You don’t immediately argue, a promising sign. Remus appears to be warming to the idea as well. “We’d have to pace ourselves a bit more,” he points out, looking at your table cramped with plates and saucers. “Maybe at each place we pick one thing to share.” 

Sirius scoffs. “Suit yourself. I’m not splitting a muffin into four pieces and eating only one.” 

James looks as though he agrees, but he only says cheerily, “We’ll figure it out as we go. Does that sound good?” 

He poses the question to everyone, but they all know he’s really only asking you. Remus and Sirius give their assent quickly and you shrink a bit in your seat, embarrassed. 

“If it really doesn’t sound too inconvenient for you guys.” You lift one shoulder in a shrug. Sirius thinks with satisfaction that the motion looks easier than it might have when you first came in from the cold. “Then yeah, I’m alright with it.” 

“Oh, yes,” Sirius teases, “an afternoon spent enjoying coffee and pastries with the three most fetching people on the continent. I should really rethink this, it may be too inconvenient.” 

“Prick.” James elbows him and leans over to wrap an arm around you protectively, but your smile blooms, and that’s all Sirius wanted in the end.

[lixiesfreckless]

Sugar & Spice | h. j.

A Sugar Across The Hall bonus scene

➸ synopsis: in reality, Joshua Hong can never say no to you.

➸ starring: joshua hong x reader

➸ word count: 1.9k words

➸ general content: boyfriend!joshua, kissing, slightly more than kissing lmao

➸ warnings: suggestive content, brief mention of alcohol

➸ rating: TV 16+

➸ author’s note: this can be read as a stand-alone BUT…happy one year anniversary to my magnum opus, sath. I love it to death, and I’m still not done writing for these characters, but for now, you get a much needed not-quite-hallmark-channel-approved scene. and before you get it twisted, this is and will always be dedicated to my beloved @ashonheavenscloud , but I’d like to give special thanks to @catboyieejeno for always encouraging me to stir the pot <3 love you guys a ton mwah

♫ this fic has a soundtrack! touch by keshi uhhhhhh somebody by keshi aahhhhhhh

Oh, he's really done it now.

Walking around some lively street corner a few blocks away from your shared apartment building, Joshua leads the two of you through downtown NYC at the height of spring. Strangers pass by your lovestruck duo without a second glance, not bothering to watch you look back at him with a borderline absurd amount of fondness in your irises. It's funny; usually Joshua wouldn't give spring a chance when it came to stating his favorite season, but since you waltzed into his life, he can confidently say that any of them are worthwhile—as long as you're with him. He squeezes your hand for what feels like the millionth time this evening, an action that makes you giggle happily to yourself.

Because you find it cute.

Oh, how you have no idea at all.

How tortuous this night has been for Joshua. How he regrets the day that he walked into that fateful department store, not looking for anything in particular but coming to a full stop in front of a specific mannequin. How he mentally patted himself on the back for remembering your size when you opened the gift bag a few hours earlier, eyes alight in excitement as you pulled out the present, letting the fabric unroll in your fingertips. How his face heated up as you opened your apartment door, and he quickly noted how the mannequin did the dress no justice.

Truthfully, if the dress looked as good on the mannequin as it did on you, he would have never taken it off the rack. He'd know better.

Because all through dinner he had to stop himself from staring at you and the slope of your neck, broken up by the thin straps of the halter dress and abandoned by your hair that was conveniently(to his demise) in an updo, to show off the open back. Luckily, you were so delighted by the Greek restaurant that you'd picked out that you hardly noticed his deepening flush, or the way he nearly downed his white wine in one go the second the server left your table.

And now, as you swing his hand and practically run up the stairs(because the elevator is broken, again), he finds himself almost dreading the night ahead. It's a Thursday, which means self care and Grey’s Anatomy, and while he would never turn down spending time with you, being that close to you for a prolonged period of time after the night he's had would be borderline masochistic.

Of course he contemplates all of this, but in reality, Joshua Hong can never say no to you.

So you unlock the door to your home, blabbering on about something that had happened at work and completely oblivious to the way that your boyfriend is eyeing you, torn between running towards you and running across the hall to get a grip on himself.

“Johnny went off at a customer yesterday,” you chuckled, crossing the room to set your purse down on the kitchen table. “They were being so rude, and over spilled milk too—throwing a fit over where we get our coffee beans imported from–”

You yelp in surprise, followed by a giggle at the feeling of Joshua’s hands encircling your waist from behind. His head settles in the space on your shoulder, but not before leaving a light kiss to the exposed skin of your neck.

“Hi,” you greet him, hands coming up to hold onto his forearms as you try to decipher the reason for this sudden display of affection.

“Hi,” he sighs, nose nudging against your pulse point, “Did I ever tell you how stunning you look in that dress?”

“No, I must have misheard you the first fifty times.”

He laughs at your little jab, willing his hands to stay still despite his growing desire to let them wander. You make the terrible decision to turn just enough so you can look at him, and it's this position that puts Joshua at his most vulnerable.

“Ready to wrap up season five?”

Looking up at him the way that you are paired with your slightly parted lips and flushed demeanor, Joshua finds himself at a loss for words, instinctively leaning into your face as his restraint wears thin. And your unfazed and accepting disposition makes it that much worse for him, his breath shaking as you flutter your eyes shut and part your lips.

The first touch of his lips is familiar, his kiss walking the line between mind-numbingly sweet and devastatingly tender as one of his hands comes up to lift your jaw. But instead of pulling away like he had originally intended, he presses harder against your mouth with a small sigh, unable to find any logical objection to the change of plans.

Your giggly demeanor fizzles out under the heat of his mouth, and your breath escapes you once his hand slides down to your neck, fingers languidly tracing the curve and playing with the straps that rest there. In contrast to his slow hands, his kisses grow faster and almost desperate, not wanting to separate for even a second as he tilts his head and slants his mouth against yours.

You stumble backwards slightly in pleasant surprise, and the table hits just above the hem of your skirt before the arm around your waist tightens, pulling you further into Joshua’s chest.

He takes this opportunity to lean forward slightly, clearing the table with a sweep of the arm that was holding you before hoisting you up onto it, hands firm on your thighs and then sliding down to your knees so he can part them.

“Josh,” you whisper breathlessly, clutching onto his shoulders as your eyes dazedly flicker between his lips and his eyes. His lower lip gets trapped between his teeth as his strength falters, gaze hardly able to meet yours as his fingers dance along the scalloped hem of your dress.

“Oh God, don't do that baby,” he nearly moans, and the pet name turns your brain waves into radio static. You've never heard him sound so helpless, as if his very fate would be decided by whatever you choose to say next. “You make it so hard to just sit and watch TV with you sometimes. Especially when you look like this.”

Knowing now that you have the upper hand, you decide to humor yourself and tease him a bit, leaning forward with a slight smirk on your lips. “Like what?”

His eyes drink you in from head to toe, taking their time to memorize all of your body lines in the flattering dress. If the opportunity were to present itself tonight, he doesn't know whether he would even want to take it off of you.

He leans in close, hoping that his desire translates well as it's mumbled against the skin of your neck.

“So damn good.”

His confession against your sensitive skin has you muffling a whine, gripping the edge of the table as your rationale evaporates under his searing lips, traveling higher and higher with each press.

You can't take his teasing much longer, and frankly, this side of him doesn't come out often enough for you to pass up an opportunity such as this. Meredith Grey will have to wait.

“You know…” you whisper, head tilting back as you feel his hand slipping behind your neck to support it, “they play reruns on Friday nights too.”

“Thank God, ‘cause you in this dress has been driving me crazy since you put it on,” he chuckles against your lips before catching them with his again, taking his time now to fully taste you, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip to elicit that delightful shiver that runs up your spine. You respond in earnest with your hands, carding through his brown locks and nearly melting when he doesn't suppress the groan that tumbles from his throat.

He kisses you like you’re air itself, hands sliding up your skirt and body pressing against yours, and once your nails slide down his scalp he softly groans into your mouth, moving onto kissing across your jawline. You repeat the action while winding your legs around Joshua’s waist, and he whines quietly into your neck, “Please…tell me to stop before I can’t.”

So subtly you almost miss it, he rolls his hips into yours, his desires clouding his judgment as a foreign sound jumps to the top of your throat. Immediately your attention is drawn to the heat you feel in your abdomen, and while you have grown accustomed to bearing it in silence, you’re finding it increasingly hard to ignore with him like this, hands all over you.

Wanting you.

He does it again, with a little more pressure this time, and your head falls back as a whimper just barely tumbles out of your lips. He shivers slightly, nearly overcome with the exertion of fighting every urge to take you on this table this instant.

To temporarily solve this problem, his lips find yours again, but feeling your muffled moans against him proves to be no more effective than trying to put out a forest fire with a garden hose.

As his hips softly grind into yours and your kisses get more and more frantic, your voice of reason pushes through the heavy cloud of lust at the forefront of your brain. “Wait, I've never–”

“We don't have to baby,” he cuts you off, wanting to make his intentions clear despite being unable to put an inch of space between the two of you, “and I don't want to just yet, but I…”

His hand that was previously bunched in your dress comes up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing gently against the redness of your cheek as he calms himself down with a deep breath.

And as he gazes at you with nothing but adoration in his brown irises, you can almost feel the words coming before he says them out loud.

“I…I am so in love with you,” he begins, fighting a chuckle born out of the absurd location of this sudden confession, “that sometimes, when I look at you, I can’t even think straight, and I…” he trails off, struggling to find the right words the longer he stares at you.

You, on the other hand, are practically beaming, bottom lip trapped by your teeth in an attempt to fight the smile you’d be flashing him, so as to not distract him any further. But you soon realize; with him seated between your legs, there’s not much you can do to help him out here.

So you switch to offense, legs squeezing him tight around his waist to pull his hips back to yours. “You what?”

His chocolate eyes darken to a coffee color in seconds, and the hand that was on your hip tightens again, keeping you firm in place on the table as you bat your eyelashes at him.

“Sometimes I wish I could just show you how much you drive me crazy.”

You don’t hesitate, lifting your chin to meet his lips in a deceptively chaste kiss as your hands fall onto the buttons on his shirt, playing with them just to rile him up further.

You shrug, feigning indifference. “Maybe you can.”

And at that, before you can even register what’s happening, he’s sliding an arm around your waist and under your knees, picking you up and heading towards your bedroom with a chuckle.

“Maybe I should.”

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

click to read Sugar Across The Hall

[pucksandpower]

Achilles Come Down

Charles Leclerc x soft dom!Reader

Summary: sometimes you have to take control to get Charles out of his own head

Warnings: 18+ content

Based on this request with some little hints here and there that the reader is Charles’ race engineer (inspired by him getting a new race engineer all of a sudden in real life)

The garage is eerily quiet as you make your way towards Charles’ driver’s room, the usual buzz of activity muted in the wake of his DNF. His familiar red race suit is marred by streaks of oil and rubber, a physical reminder of the mechanical failure that ended his race prematurely.

Charles stalks ahead of you, his body taut with frustration. You can practically see the negative thoughts racing through his mind, the self-recrimination and second-guessing he’s so prone to despite the circumstances being completely out of his control.

“Charles, wait up,” you call out, struggling to match his clipped pace. He pauses with his hand on the door handle, jaw clenched.

“What is there to say, Y/N? My race is over before it could even properly begin.” The defeat in his voice cuts you deeply.

“This wasn’t your fault,” you insist, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “A rear brake malfunction is out of your hands.”

He shrugs you off, throat bobbing with repressed emotion. “I’m the one behind the wheel. I should have sensed something was wrong, made adjustments ...”

“You can’t control every little thing on that car, no matter how talented you are,” you interrupt firmly. “Sometimes factors outside your control are going to screw things up. Dwelling on it won’t change that.”

Charles lets out a harsh exhale, raking frustrated fingers through his sweat-dampened curls. “Easy for you to say. It’s not your championship hopes slipping away with every botched race.”

You resist the urge to snap back, knowing his irritability stems from disappointment rather than any real malice towards you. Taking a calming breath, you change tacks.

“Okay, let’s go inside and get you out of that suit at least,” you suggest in a gentler tone. “We can debrief the data after you’ve had a chance to reset.”

Charles hesitates, chewing on his full lower lip in an unconscious gesture of indecision. You frame his face with your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“Trust me, baby. Let me take care of you for once.”

The rigidity finally seeps from his stance as he gives a jerky nod of acquiescence. You push open the door and usher him inside, the familiar smells of his favorite Dior cologne and heat-weathered leather enveloping you both.

Once the door clicks shut, blocking out the distractions of the paddock, you move in close to begin unzipping Charles’ kinetic race suit. He stands stiffly as you peel away each layer until he’s stripped down to just his snug fireproof undershirt and shorts.

Running soothing hands over his tense shoulders and neck, you knead at the knots of muscles corded there. A low exhale shudders from Charles’ lips as some of the pent-up stress bleeds out of his frame.

“That’s it, let it all go,” you murmur. “Your only job now is to relax and let me take over for once.”

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbles, the barest ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You circle around to face him again, hands roaming over the lean muscles of his chest and abs through the thin fabric. Leaning in, you capture his lips in a deep, probing kiss, slanting your mouth over his again and again until his tension fully dissolves and he melts into your touch.

“Better?” You ask with a quirked brow as you finally pull back, taking in his dazed expression.

“Getting there,” Charles replies, pupils already blown wide with arousal. He surges forward to recapture your lips hungrily.

You allow him to control the heated kiss for a few indulgent moments before taking charge once more, pushing firmly against his chest until the backs of his thighs hit the edge of the sleek, ultra-modern sofa. He flops back with a breathless chuckle as you crawl over him, straddling his waist and rocking your hips against his in a pointed grind.

“Just relax and let me handle this,” you rasp against the hinge of his jaw, relishing the full-body shudder that wracks his frame.

Your hands deftly slip beneath the hem of his undershirt, pushing it up and over his head to expose his toned upper body before latching your lips to the hollow of his throat. Charles tips his head back in blissful surrender as you lavish hot, openmouthed kisses along the thunderous pulse point and down the sculpted grooves of his chest.

His hands struggle to find purchase as your mouth trails lower still, tracing nonsensical patterns through the trial of hair. Every swirl of your tongue is deliberate, thorough, a reminder to him to stay grounded in the present moment, focused solely on the exquisite sensations you’re lavishing upon his body.

You pause with your face hovering inches above the waistband of his shorts, reveling in the pure want burning in Charles’ lust-darkened gaze as he watches you through his veil of tousled chestnut curls. Hooking your fingers into the stretchy material, you ease it down, never breaking that heated eye contact.

Charles is already achingly hard, hips twitching upwards in search of some kind of delicious friction. You blow a teasing stream of air over his length, relishing the way he squirms and lets out a guttural moan. Only then do you take him fully into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the velvety crown before sinking down in one smooth glide.

“F-Fuck ...” Charles’ head thrashes against the armrest as his hands scrabble uselessly at the supple leather, trying and failing to find purchase. You hum in satisfaction around your mouthful, the vibrations jolting through him with dizzying intensity.

Knowing he’s dangerously close already, you ease off with one last lingering lick. Charles whines in protest, hips canting upwards to chase that incredible heat and suction. But rather than continuing with your talented mouth, you throw one lean leg over his body to straddle his hips once more.

Charles swallows hard as you reach behind to unclasp your lacy bra, shrugging it off your shoulders and allowing it to puddle onto the floor. He tracks the motion with rapt attention, fingers twitching with the overwhelming need to touch.

Before he can make a move, you halt him with a stern look and guiding hand wrapped around his wrist. “Nuh-uh, I’m in charge here, remember?”

Charles makes a thin, desperate sound but complies, allowing you to pin both wrists above his head. His chest heaves with each shuddering inhale as he watches you shimmy out of your skin tight jeans with your core hovering just above his straining length.

Then, maintaining that heated eye contact, you sink down unbearably slowly until he’s sheathed fully inside you. Charles’ mouth drops open in a low keen as you begin to move in an unhurried grind, savoring each delicious inch.

“You feel that?” You rasp, leaning down to capture his plush bottom lip between your teeth. “You’re not alone in this, baby. I’ve got you.”

Charles nods frantically, hips jerking upwards in a broken rhythm to chase that incredible friction. You release his wrists in favor of framing his face, anchoring him to this intense connection amid the swirling sensations.

“Don’t think about the race or the championship,” you order in a low murmur. “There’s only you and me, here and now. Got it?”

“Yes ...” Charles moans in affirmation as your pace picks up the tiniest bit, guiding him closer and closer to that blissful edge.

Perspiration sheens over both your bodies, slick skin sliding together in an intoxicating glide. His hands roam hungrily over every inch of you, mapping each sculpted curve and plane like a long-cherished map. You snake one hand between your joined bodies to stroke him in counterpoint to your rolling undulations, determined to shatter him into a million ecstatic pieces.

Charles’ breath grows increasingly ragged, each strangled cry of pleasure driving you higher towards your own shattering peak. “Look at me,” you demand, cupping his stubbled jaw. His glassy emerald eyes lock onto yours obediently. “I’m all that matters right now.”

He shudders beneath you, mouth dropping open in a choked groan as his orgasm slams into him with full force. You bear down harder, chasing your own release to the soundtrack of his gasping whimpers. White-hot pleasure detonates through your nerve endings, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake.

Collapsing bonelessly atop him, you nuzzle against the slick hollow of his throat, placing a tender kiss over his pulse as you both struggle to catch your breath. Charles’ arms envelop you, his frame still quivering with aftershocks.

“Better?” You murmur against his salted skin, unable to resist a teasing smirk.

A breathless laugh huffs from his lips. “So much better. I ...” He pauses, seeming to search for the right words. “Thank you, mon ange. For not letting me spiral.”

“Always,” you vow simply, tilting your head to capture his lips in a deep, searing kiss. When you finally break apart, his eyes are warm and clear, no longer clouded by that self-destructive darkness.

A tender smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you brush back the damp chestnut curls from his forehead. In this quiet moment, with his body and soul laid bare before you, you know the roles have switched once more. He’s gone from race driver to simply Charles — your Charles — and you’ll protect that brilliant light within him with everything you have.

“We can debrief the data later,” he murmurs, mirroring your earlier words with a contented grin. “For now, I just want to stay right here with you.”

[obaex]

four - hockey player!ex!rafe cameron (pt. 1)

summary: rafe knows he's screwed up, but when he offers you a way to make amends, you can't resist. the catch? he'll have to do the impossible.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: rafe is slightly toxic in this ngl! i am in love with this. hockey romance is very near and dear to me (this is v loosely based on a real life experience). *mwah*

You saw your phone light up out of the corner of your eye and lowered your mascara wand as you leaned over to glance at the screen and let out a shaky sigh.

A part of you knew the right thing to do by now was to block his number. You hadn't responded to a single message he'd sent for over two weeks. And the messages had been relentless.

I'm thinking about you in the afternoons.

Hi beautiful in the mornings.

I'm sorry.

You're still my girl.

And on and on, escalating to paragraphs at night, as he typed out things he'd never once said out loud to you before; about how he felt the first time he met you, the things his teammates said, about how Wheezie was asking about you and Sarah spent an hour on the phone lecturing him, about how he'd do anything to get you back.

Reading his messages was like drinking a honied poison that went down sweet, warming every inch of you, only to make you sick in the end. But you couldn't stop. You couldn't block him. And even though you'd made him think you were ignoring him, you craved every message, every word he said something you had ached to hear when he had the chance.

Now it was two hours before the biggest game of the season, arguably one of the biggest of his career. He should be focusing on his pregame routine, on his way to the rink, if he wasn't there already and instead here he was texting you. You were the one on his mind and you drank that poison down, allowing yourself to feel special, even if the text had made no sense to you.

How many?

How many what?

His last message before that was from a couple of hours ago, before his pregame nap, the one you often took together as he had reminded you, in excruciating detail.

Your fingers twitched with the urge to reply. You knew he was baiting you into responding, but you swallowed down the urge and took a deep breath to still your beating heart and went back to applying your makeup, dragging up the same memory you did every time you were tempted by him.

It was just after 2AM, and you were sitting in your car that you had driven to his apartment, unable to sleep, desperate to talk to him. He lounged in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead at the windshield, tracking the rain that was falling steadily.

"Can you please talk to me?" you whispered, trying so hard not to come across as needy or desperate.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, shrugging, avoiding your eye contact.

"I don't know, just tell me what's going on with you? You barely talk to me anymore, you won't even look at me. Did I do something?"

He shrugged again and you felt physically sick. Maybe it was because you couldn't remember the last thing you'd eaten, the last time you'd slept more than a few fitful hours, all consumed with the feeling that your five-year relationship was running off the rails. Rumors were flying that there was another girl... or girls... And when you had asked him about it, he brushed it off, not strongly enough to give you even an ounce of comfort. You were falling apart. And he was letting it happen. He was forcing you to end this, too cowardly to do it himself.

"Do you even want to be with me anymore?" you whispered, barely audible over the pounding rain, like maybe if he didn't hear you, he couldn't answer.

He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed loudly, frustrated, like you were just so annoying to him, and you wished you could suck your words back into your mouth.

"I have practice in like four hours, I can't be doing this with you right now" he said, aptly avoiding the conversation again.

Your chin was wobbling and you bit back everything you wanted to say, not wanting to be needy, or nagging, hoping if you were on your very best behavior he would have a change of heart, change his mind.

You pursed your lips and nodded, averting your gaze to look out at the rain and gathering the strength you needed to say the words that felt like nails in your mouth.

"I can't do this anymore" you whimpered, as tears fell that matched the droplets on your windshield. "I can't keep giving 100% and getting nothing in return. I'm sitting here spilling my heart out to you and you won't even look at me. After everything we've been through... You won't even deny that you hooked up with her."

Silence.

You could see him grimace, the tic in his jaw as he pushed his tongue into his cheek. You wanted to grab the front of his sweatshirt, shake him and scream 'SAY SOMETHING!'. But you didn't. And his silence persisted a moment longer.

"So that's it then?" he said finally, like you had any other choice.

You wiped futilely at the tears that were now pouring down your face, even as you tried to hold them back, sniffling with a shaky breath to avoid outright sobbing in front of him.

He opened the car door, got out, slamming it forcefully behind him without so much as a glance your way and you broke down. You didn't make it one block before you had to pull over. You couldn't see, you couldn't breath, and you couldn't hold your hands steady on the wheel you were shaking so badly. You threw your car in park, lay your head on the steering wheel and cried.

Two days passed before the first text came in.

"I'm sorry" is all it said.

You could see the bubbles at the bottom of the screen, indicating that he was still typing before more messages appeared.

At this point you were grasping your phone with both hands, like a lifeline, eyes glued to the screen, heart hammering so hard in your chest you felt nauseous and your hands were shaking. There was a chance, a glimmer, a hope and you were clinging to it.

Your fingers hovered over your phone, ready to forgive him, to forget, to run right back to the way things had been, to have him looking for you at the end of every game, for stolen kisses in the parking lot at the arena, to whispered I love yous as you fell asleep in his arms. And then more messages came flooding in.

More messages were coming now but you couldn't read any further. Your heart was battering around your ribcage like a pinball machine with the whiplash of information: your boyfriend of five years had been actively texting another girl... because she was easygoing, and fun to talk to and didn't stress him out… like you did.

Your tears were back like no time had passed from the night you broke up, heavy sobs coming from your mouth at how stupid you felt, at all the rumors being true. And did you really believe that nothing more had happened between them? He was Rafe fucking Cameron of the Carolina Eagles.

Your eyes skimmed over the second half of his message, about how you were it for him, about how much he loved you, how he wanted to marry you and for you to have his babies?? The ache of wanting that so desperately to be true and knowing it couldn't be was too much for you as you turned and cried into your pillow.

You recalled all of those messages now as a new one came in. You shoved your finger into the bruise on your heart, forcing yourself to feel that pain again, to imagine him laying in bed, in the bed you had slept in with him, while he texted another girl, maybe even texted both of you at the same time, and you refocused on your makeup.

You had faithfully followed the Eagles for five years, his teammates were some of your best friends, like brothers to you. Despite everything that had happened with Rafe, you weren't going to miss their game tonight. Rafe's best friend and linemate Nick had texted you earlier in the week to let you know he had a ticket for you.

Fine. It was hard to say no to that. Everyone you knew would be there anyway and you didn't need Rafe thinking he had power over you if you weren't there. So, you were going. And you decided if you were going to go you were going to look stunning, and as you put the finishing touches on your makeup, there was no doubt in your mind that you were.

You had spent more time on your hair and makeup than potentially every other game that season combined. You may have gotten a little comfy towards the end, wearing Rafe's team-issued sweatshirt with his name and number on it and a pair of leggings. He claimed that he loved you in that, but that wouldn't cut it tonight. You wore skintight jeans that accentuated every perfect curve of your body, heeled booties and a tight-fitting long sleeve shirt. Your hair was immaculate and your makeup was admittedly a little extra for an AHL game, but effortless nonetheless as it amplified your natural beauty. The pain in your heart had been ebbing its way into anger: you were going to make him regret every single thing he'd done, the thought nagging at you as your phone lit up again.

You huffed. You had been strong for weeks, and now he was throwing that at you?

Your perfectly manicured fingers hovered over your phone as you nibbled your glossed bottom lip, and finally relented.

What the hell? you thought, confused.

Feeling pretty good about your level of engagement, you sent another question mark before his response came in.

You scoffed before laughing out loud. He was truly unbelievable. You weren't on some sort of barter system here. This wasn't a deal you had ever discussed nor agreed to. This isn't how the world worked, this isn't how relationships worked. It was stupid. So so stupid. And Rafe wasn't the team's lead goal scorer anyway. Sure he was good for a flashy goal every few games, maybe two, but this was the semi-finals of the league championship, everything was on the line here, it was not the time to be playing games...

...But damn if you didn't love the semblance of power he'd given you over the situation, and you desperately wanted to fuck with him.

Four goals in one game. Essentially impossible. A joke. Sidney Crosby, arguably the best player in the NHL at the moment hadn't even achieved that. But not a second passed before his reply came through, simple, straightforward, no arguing or complaining:

"Done"

And then:

"I love you!"

"I'll be looking for you 😍"

You rolled your eyes, throwing your phone down on your bed, annoyed at yourself for even answering him.

And yet you couldn't fight the smallest bit of excitement you felt.

It was impossible. It was never going to happen, but Rafe Cameron was going to try to win you back.

(part two)

taglist: @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @ihe4rttwd, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer, @jjsbank444

[starflirts]

HOW MUCH IS WEED with percy and the prompt “i couldn’t stop missing you even if i tried” <33 requesting for a bit angst hurt/comfort with a happy ending..congrats on a 100!!

here you go anon!! <3

percy jackson x reader

You didn’t think it’d go this far. A simple disagreement about something mundane led to an almost screaming match as you stood in front of your boyfriend, arms crossed.

“No, this isn’t how it works Percy and you know it !”

he scoffs. “Yeah right, because you know me so well don’t you ?”

It takes you a couple of seconds to retaliate. Without another word, you pick up your bag and your coat laying on the back of Percy’s couch.

“I’m out. I don’t want to deal with this anymore.”

As you storm through his hallway, your boyfriend is still in his living room, rubbing his temples. “go ahead!” he bites

With your hand on the knob, you turn back one last time.

“Don’t call me for a while. I think we need some space.”

Still blinded by his own anger, Percy snaps. “Fine by me!”

The last thing he hears is the slam of his front door. Falling back on the couch, Percy holds his head into his hands, his harsh words running through his mind.

You’re no better, angrily wiping tears as you head home.

You kept your word and stubbornly avoided any contact with Percy, yet a small part of you still looked for him in your notifications.

After a couple weeks without seeing the two of you hanging out, your friends started to plan something to get the two of you in the same room again. “You used to be practically joined at the hip! This can’t go on!” was what they all said.

And unbeknownst to you, they did plan to get the two of you together again. You were all supposed to meet up at the cafe on the corner of your street but no one was there when you arrived. Guessing they were late, you pulled out your phone when you suddenly heard a voice you haven’t heard in what felt like ages.

“Sorry I’m la- Y/N ?” snapping your head up, you’re face to face with a disheveled Percy, cheeks red from the probable run from his block to yours.

“Hi. I don’t think the others are coming.” you tell him blankly, already gathering your stuff to leave.

“Wait!” Percy starts as he sits in the chair across from you, laying a hand on your wrist. “Can we… talk ?” his eyes are almost pleading and you nod.

“Listen, I- I can't stop thinking about our argument, and about us. I messed up. I know you said you didn’t want me to call you so I didn’t but it was so hard trying not to look through all my notifications thinking about you.”

You smile at that, glad he felt the same way you did. Shaking your head, your hand reaches for his.

“It’s okay. I’m at fault here too. I shouldn’t have stormed off like that. I should’ve talked it out,” you pause “we both should’ve talked it out.”

“This won’t happen again.” he answers earnestly.

You laugh, “I hope so! It was so hard trying not to miss you.”

His hand squeezes yours. “I couldn’t stop missing you even if I tried.”

[caroldantops]

baby, it's cold outside

ship: dark!agatha harkness x female!reader

summary/request:  darkfic; you're invited to agatha's christmas party, but you're afraid to make a move. lucky for you, agatha is more than willing to take things into her own hands.

word count: 3396

dead dove do not eat - this fic contains dark elements including rape/non-con, drugging, hints of victim blaming. proceed at your own discretion.

other warnings: non-magic au, smut (18+), top!agatha, praise, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), light pain play (agatha slaps reader's body once), i think this qualifies as whump, pet names (darling, good girl, baby, and a couple more)

(I genuinely feel like I'm missing some important warnings so let me know if you think there's something i should add here)

masterlist | ao3 link

The wind practically knocks you over as you try to climb up the few stairs up Agatha’s porch. Christmas lights twinkle in the darkness, illuminating the snow that’s gently falling. Your mittens do little to block the cold, hands shaking as you reach up to knock on the door. 

The fog from your breath hangs in the air as the door swings open. Alice greets you with a sweet smile. “Hey, you! You made it! Come in, come in, it’s freezing out here.” 

“Thanks,” you smile, stepping in and sighing with relief as warmth envelops you. “I like your sweater.” 

“Fun, right?” Alice closes the door behind you, posing so you can see her sweater in full. It has a cute silhouette of a witch on a broomstick, being pulled by a group of reindeer. “Kind of a mash-up of holidays. Speaking of outfits, you look amazing tonight.” 

“I think I’m overdressed, to be honest,” you laugh as you shed your coat. You definitely regretted asking Jen of all people for outfit comparisons - she always overdressed for any occasion, and it made you lean towards a velvety black dress. Like Alice, it seems like the other guests milling around are dressed more casual. “Maybe I should just grab my sweatshirt from my car or something.” 

“Don’t you dare,” Jen says as she approaches you. Seeing the sparkly, emerald green dress she’s wearing gives you a bit of relief. At least you don’t stand out the most here. Flying under the radar was usually your go-to. The only reason you even dared come to a party hosted by someone you barely know was from Jen and Alice convincing you that it would be fun. 

Jen soon gets distracted by gossiping with Lilia, but Alice is kind enough not to abandon you. The party is actually pretty nice, despite your initial hesitance to even show up. There’s not very many people crammed into the house - just enough that it feels cozy and chatter fills the space. 

The weather outside starts getting worse through the night, unbeknownst to you as you’re tucked into the cozy library with a few others who prefer the quieter atmosphere. 

Though the night is still young, people have started slowly leaving, claiming that they want to get ahead of the inclement weather. You start to wonder if maybe you should leave a bit early as well, but Alice assures you that if it gets particularly bad, you can stay at her place since she’s much closer. So, you put that thought aside and just enjoy your evening. 

While you’re telling Alice about a weird customer that keeps showing up at the coffee shop you work at, your eye catches a glimpse of the host for the first time tonight as she waltzes into the room. 

Agatha Harkness. The older woman is dressed in a blood-red sweater and simple dress pants, some elegant rings and necklaces sparkling under the light. She’s talking to Jen and Lillia, the former of whom being the reason you even knew Agatha. You’d only talked a couple of times when Jen would drag Agatha along on a coffee run, but you’d always been a bit enamored with her beauty. 

You weren’t even really sure what she did for work - and if your friends knew they’ve never filled you in. All you knew is that she was a very powerful woman, with very powerful connections. Even Jen, who was frankly unintimidated by most people, had to admit that Agatha was a bit scary. 

What Agatha wanted, she got. And if something tried to stop her, there would be hell to pay. 

Alice nudges you, giving you a knowing look. 

“What?” You roll your eyes at her. 

“You’re painfully obvious, you know that right?” Alice raises an eyebrow, a playful smile on her face. “Go say hi.” 

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt their conversation…” The end of your sentence trails off as piercing blue eyes meet your gaze. Instincts tell you to look away, but some unknown feeling overrides that. 

Time seems to stand still as you mull over how little you know Agatha and how much you’d like to know. She regards you, blatantly ignoring the conversation she’s supposed to be participating in. Eyes scanning you, calculating. 

Maybe even hungry. 

With that thought, you’re the first one to break, pulling out your phone to fake distraction. With your gaze now averted, you miss Agatha’s lips quirk up in a smirk. She watches as you turn back to Alice, clearly flustered, and clearly not intending on making any sort of move. 

Lucky for you, she’s more than happy to take things into her own hands. 

“Alice,” Agatha’s booming voice cuts through the noise of the party. Alice looks up as Agatha struts over, boots thumping on the floor with determined purpose. “Would you be a dear and keep those two from starting a karaoke session? They’re both about one glass of red away from breaking into Mariah Carey, and frankly I’d rather risk walking across a frozen lake right now.” 

Alice rolls her eyes, but gets up to go make sure the others behave. Agatha sighs, plopping into the now empty seat next to you. Her nimble fingers trace the rim of the wine glass she’s been nursing. “Jen said you’d be coming.” 

“Oh, she did?” 

Stupid. Of course she did, she told you she would. In your nervous fumble, you reach for the drink Alice got you earlier. It’s remained almost untouched so far, but you’re desperate for an excuse to not talk. 

And, in a true feat of spectacular coordination, you manage to knock it into your lap. 

“Shit!” You groan. 

“Oh, dear,” Agatha juts her lip out in sympathy. “On such a pretty dress too! Come on, I’ll help you clean up.” 

You take a couple of napkins and blot ineffectively at the stain. “It’s okay, this is enough to dry it at least…” 

“Nonsense,” Agatha scoffs, putting her own glass down and standing up. You look at her, puzzled as she just stands there, before you realize she’s expecting you to follow. She starts leading you through the house, down the halls that no guests were allowed in. “We don’t want that to leave a stain, I have a couple of things that should help.” 

“Thank you, Agatha, really,” you say, trying not to analyze all the decor and photos that you pass as she leads you. 

You end up being led down to the basement, carefully descending the creaky wooden stairs. The dwindling party can be heard above you, muffled music and footsteps reminding you that you’re not completely alone with Agatha. 

Agatha shuffles some stuff around, looking through the bins near her washing machine. “Dear, do you have your phone on you? My eyes aren’t great in this darned dim basement light.” 

You turn on the flashlight on your phone and pass it to her, waiting patiently as she rummages around. “Aha!” 

Her grin is illuminated by the light of your phone, and you can’t help but smile - it’s infectious. She motions for you to come closer, turning on the nearby sink. 

“Alright, give me your dress for a second.” 

“What?” Your smile fades, and you recoil back in surprise. 

“Your dress, it’ll be easier for me to clean if you just take it off,” Agatha says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She analyzes your face, and you practically see the thoughts turning in her head as your own brain fumbles for what to do. “Here, one second.” 

She grabs a couple of things from a laundry basket - a t-shirt and some sweatpants - and hands them to you. “Switch these out, and then I’ll clean your dress off.” 

You nod, taking the clothing and changing as fast as you possibly can. Your head gets stuck in the shirt for a moment, and you miss the way Agatha’s eyes rake over your bare torso and lacy bra. As your head pops out, she quickly turns her attention to your dress, rinsing it and applying some cleaning product, rubbing the fabric gently in her hands. 

“Ugh,” Agatha groans suddenly. 

“What’s wrong? Not coming out?” 

“No, the stain came out fine, but I think I wet it too much. It’s soaking, you can’t go out in this. I’ll hang it up to dry, but it’s gonna take a while,” Agatha ponders as she grabs a hanger. “You’re more than welcome to just keep those clothes for now.” 

“Oh, okay,” you say, playing with the end of the shirt. You’re resisting the urge to rub your nose against the fabric - even after having been washed it seems to smell like Agatha. “Thanks again.” 

“Of course, sweetheart, I’m happy to help,” Agatha beams. “I’m going to get this dress set up to dry, you go back upstairs and enjoy yourself. I’ll be right behind you.” 

When you get back upstairs, you realize that most of the guests have left. In fact, it seems like it’s just your friends left. Even the neighbors who live just down the street have retired for the night.

Alice spots you approaching and sighs with relief. “There you are! I was trying to find you. I’m going to need to take Jen and Lilia home. They’re in no state to drive. What are you wearing?” 

“Oh, I spilled my drink, Agatha’s hanging up my dress to dry,” you say, clearly embarrassed. Alice, the saint that she is, does not take the opportunity to tease you for being in Agatha’s clothes. 

“Gotcha.” A loud thump comes from the other side of the room, and you both look over to see Jen picking Lilia up off the floor, both of them drunkenly giggling. Alice sighs, “You’re good to drive, right? They live on the opposite side of town from my place, so if you do need me to pick you up on my way back, just call me okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” you assure her. “I didn’t get a chance to drink anything before I spilled it on myself. I’m just going to thank Agatha for helping me out and then probably head out.” 

“Okay, be safe. And seriously, call me if you need anything.” 

“I will, I will,” you instinctively reach for your phone to see that it’s charged enough, but you realize you must have left it downstairs. The trio leaves in a whirlwind, and suddenly you’re left alone. 

Well, not completely alone. 

“Good grief, did everyone decide to do an Irish goodbye?” Agatha returns from the basement and immediately makes her way to the kitchen to make herself a drink. She sees you standing awkwardly and nods at the sofa. “Take a load off, honey. Your dress will probably at least be dry enough to wear comfortably in a little while. Might as well enjoy the fireplace while you wait.” 

You hear her humming to herself from the other room, and you gaze contentedly at the crackling fire, curling your legs under you. The wind outside rattles the windows. You gasp as you look outside for the first time in a while. It’s started snowing so hard that it’s hard to see, and you can tell that it’s piling up on the streets. 

“Shit, I should really try to get home,” you start to stand up, but a firm hand is placed on your shoulder, and a warm mug is shoved in your hand. You give Agatha a confused look as she sits next to you, a steaming mug in her own hand. 

“Honey, it’s getting real bad out there. Alice said you live across town, yeah?” Agatha says, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I think it’s a bit too late to try to start driving. Good thing is, the other ladies probably made it at least back to Lilia’s place by now. They’ll probably huddle up there for the night.” 

“Yeah…How am I going to get home though?” You look at the drink Agatha handed you, realizing it’s not alcohol but hot chocolate, the top foamy with already melting whipped cream. You take a sip, sighing as the warmth fills your body. 

As you ponder your options, you take a few more sips. Agatha wipes the whipped cream that catches on your upper lip with a napkin, and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how close she is. You kind of want to shift away, but your body feels heavy, and the way she’s looking at you has you paralyzed. 

“Stay here,” Agatha whispers, breath dancing against your skin. “You can drive home in the morning once they clear the streets.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” you shake your head, taking another big sip of your drink, frowning as you realize you’ve almost hit the bottom. “I can figure something out…” 

“Doubt any cabs are out tonight.” 

“Seriously, Agatha, I appreciate the offer, but I should probably go,” you start to stand up, but are hit with a sudden dizziness, and immediately sit back down. “Woah…”

“You okay, baby?” Agatha asks, but her voice doesn’t sound concerned. Or surprised. 

Your stomach churns a bit. The room feels like it’s spinning, and the lights all suddenly feel way too bright. “I don’t know. Was there alcohol in this drink?” 

“Not a drop,” Agatha answers. 

“I dunno what’s wrong then,” you mumble, your words are slurred. Desperately, you try to put the pieces together and figure out what’s wrong, but everything feels muddled now. 

“Maybe you ate something bad earlier? Here, lay down on the couch, baby.” 

When did she start calling you that? You try to respond, but the words come out too muddled to understand. Agatha guides you onto your back, your head resting on a throw pillow. All of your muscles feel simultaneously heavy and weak, and you need Agatha to guide you down so you don’t just flop like a fish. 

“Agatha,” your word comes out as a strangled whine. “What’s happening?” 

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” Agatha says, her voice deep. She’s hovering over you, and you feel a shudder run through your body as she hits you with that hungry look again. 

Wait. 

The only thing you’ve drank tonight was what Agatha made you, but…she wouldn’t have. 

Right?

If your eyes didn’t feel so heavy, you’re sure they would’ve looked up at her wide in sudden realization. Nevertheless, it seems like she reads the change in expression on you, the shift from confusion to sudden fear. Agatha laughs, low and menacing. 

“So cute. I was almost worried that I wouldn’t even get the chance. But thank god for the others leaving early, hm?” The shirt Agatha gave you is tugged up, and her thumb catches your bra as well, pulling both articles of clothing over your chest in one motion. You try to wiggle away with what little strength you have, but Agatha shifts quickly, straddling your thighs and keeping you in place. 

“Pretty tits,” Agatha says, and you don’t know if she’s speaking to you or herself. 

“Ag’tha.” 

“Shh, darling. Just let it happen,” Agatha’s face hovers over yours, her pupils blown out and dark, and your stomach twists as you realize how much this is turning her on. Drugged and delirious, you’re at her complete mercy. And she couldn’t be happier. “I’m going to take such good care of you. I don’t break my toys. Not permanently, anyway.” 

Agatha’s lips press against yours, and she doesn’t even care that you’re too weak to reciprocate. She grips your chin with one hand to keep you in place, her soft lips peppering your face with kisses. It would be sweet, in any other context. You’re sure that her shiny red lipstick is all over your face, and that it’s leaving a red trail as she drags her lips down your neck. 

Her teeth sink in, and you give up your feeble attempts at fighting it. Agatha must feel you go completely limp (well, more limp than you already were), because she chuckles against your skin as she soothes the bite with her tongue. 

“Good girl. So good when you let me give you what you need.” 

The drugs in your system make it hard to register what’s happening. Agatha’s hands are on you, but you’re unable to keep up with every pinch and grope as she explores your body. A sharp tug of your nipples is enough to give you a jolt of awareness, and you moan pathetically in response, your body betraying you. 

“Oh, you like being hurt?” Agatha tugs again and gives your tit a sharp slap as well. You groan, drool starting to drip from your lips. “Dirty girl. Bet your pussy is fucking wet too.” 

She slips her hand under the waistband of your pants, nimble fingers finding your damp cunt. Her mouth opens in a dramatic gasp. “I was right! You like this, huh?” 

You babble nonsense in response, your no’s coming out incoherently. 

“What was that? You love it? Aw, baby, you flatter me,” Agatha kisses you again, not caring about the trail of drool on your cheek. She pushes her fingers into you, meeting some resistance as you’re not quite wet enough to take her so quickly. Your hips twist as the feeling of her fingers dragging against the walls of your cunt makes you flinch. “Take it, take it like a good girl for me. This is what you wanted, right? You were so obvious, with all that staring and how nervous you got around me. You were practically begging for this.” 

“Don’t…” 

“Found your voice again, it seems. Probably not for long.” Agatha clicks her tongue, shrugging as she shuffles down your body, tugging your pants down enough that your cunt is exposed. She kisses down your mound, groaning as she reaches her prize. Nose nudging your clit, she inhales your scent and moans, the vibrations close enough that your clit throbs in response. “Fuck.” 

All the sensations are reduced to vague feelings as Agatha starts to lick you in earnest. Warm. Wet. Feels good. Darkness clouds your vision as you start slipping in and out of consciousness. Fingers again, prodding at your hole. Thrusting in, curling, working you better than anyone ever has. When did she slip a third finger in? 

“Come on, baby, want you to cum all over my fingers,” She mumbles against your clit before flattening her tongue against it, fingers curling against your sensitive walls again. 

Your body shudders, but you can’t even tell if it was an orgasm. The woman you’ve been lusting after is fucking you through climax, and you’re not even going to remember it. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll forget this whole thing. Or at least enough to deny it. 

Because as fucked up as it is, some pathetic, yearning part of you still wants Agatha. She’s drugged and taken advantage of you, yet there’s a part of you hoping that this isn’t a one time situation, that she’ll still want you when you’re fully awake and able to enjoy yourself. 

God, there’s not enough therapy in the world to even start to tackle that, you think.

Suddenly you realize you’re crying, salty tears hitting your tongue as you breathe heavily. Agatha crawls back up your body, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Baby, it’s okay, it’s okay. We’re done. You did so, so good for me.” 

“Good?” 

“Yes, very good,” Agatha kisses the tears from your cheeks. She rearranges your clothes so that you won’t get cold, and pulls a blanket off the back of the couch to drape over both of you. The position is awkward, since you can’t really move much, but she manages to squeeze herself into a space where she can hold you. “C’mere, darling. You took that so well. Let me hold you, pretty.” 

“Aggie,” you mumble against her skin when she pulls you against her chest, unable to conjure her full name. 

“Yes?” Agatha hums, stroking your hair. 

“Why?” 

Silence falls over the two of you for a moment as Agatha lets the question hang in the air. You can feel her heart thumping, feel the way her hands stroke soothing circles into your skin. The last thing you hear before you finally fall into a deep sleep is her voice. 

“Darling, I always get what I want.”

[belokhvostikova]

𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | In the simplest terms, Dustin Henderson has essentially become Eddie Munson's biggest cock block.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, brief alcohol consumption, jealousy, mentions of a rough childhood, and explicit sexual content: humping, clit rubbing, pussy slapping, spitting, handjob, oral (male receiving), and ball play.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Couple uses of "Y/N," sorry. And for maximum enjoyment, please picture Eddie's whiny tantrums from the boat scene for this piece, lol. If there are any necessary warnings that were accidently left out, please feel free to let me know!

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

It started off minor, as most issue occur.

Eddie rather quickly took notice of the particular interest Dustin Henderson took in you.

It was lunch. Though they were essentially just a myriad of—let's be honest here—losers, the judgmental stares of high school boys as you approached and sat at their table was quite worry inducing. Getting through Eddie's hardening exterior was a journey in of itself, and now as his proclaimed girlfriend, you had to experience the journey yet again with his friends, who profoundly expressed their distaste for “your people.” Who knew such popularity within yourself would have caused them to initially despise you this much.

Not Dustin Henderson, though.

At an attempt to ease some of the awkward tension—made only worse when Eddie snapped at everyone to be nice—at the lunch table, you caught sight of Dustin's Weird Al t-shirt, one which he wore proudly, that in all honesty made you giggle. Ever since then, Dustin Henderson hasn’t been able to let go of the fact that he made a pretty girl laugh.

He clung onto you like a lifeline.

Eddie had a temper. He was always revved up. And seeing how often Dustin was conjuring a conversation with you, seeking your attention, truly made him ballistic. He didn't like sharing. Even if it was harmless. Ever since the officially introduction at lunch, it has been nothing but:

"Hey, check out my new comic book! It's limited edition!"

"Wanna help me with my science project? You're just so smart, it would really help. Maybe we can meet at the library?"

"Do you wanna see Alien with me? Lucas is going with Max, and you can join me." The fuck?! That was practically a double-date to Eddie.

The one that truly hurt him the most was two weeks ago, when you congratulated the stupid, little shit—Eddie's words, not yours—with one of your loving, sweet hugs for getting an A+ on said science project.

You used to always hug Eddie when he made good grades.

But, hey, maybe Eddie was just overreacting, right? But what the hell constitutes overreacting and not rightful-reacting, when some noisy freshman, who can't seem to grasp the simple concept of boundaries, once again oversteps, making him have blue balls, because all he wanted was to cum in his girlfriend's mouth, but apparently that's too much to ask!

Eddie huffed.

You stared incredulous.

"'Rightful-reacting.'" You tried to suppress the giggle, you really did, but you couldn't help but laugh at his dramatic wording, when he had dragged you away into his bedroom to vitalize this reoccurring issue.

Eddie moved close, right to your face, gripping tightly on your shoulders, looking like a crazed man. Hell, it was Dustin's fault. "Sweetheart, you're focusing on the wrong thing here." He heaved. "That little dingus has been ruining my life for the past week; only speaking to you, interrupting date nights, calling twenty-four seven, and now impeding our sexy time!"

"'Impeding our sexy time.'" Biting your lip did nothing to stop the emerging smile and laugh on your face. God, you loved the hell out of him.

"Would you quit that!" He whined with a theatric shake to your shoulders to get back to the point.

"Sorry, sorry," you placed on your best serious expression, "go ahead, explain."

"Explain?! Do you not remember what happened Saturday?"

Ah, Saturday. It was 11:42 p.m. Eddie—more so his insatiable appetite—had the bright idea of heading to Benny's Diner for the greasiest food to fill his stomach. It was late, and the diner had been empty with the exception of the older waitress smoking near the coffee pot, and he pulled you closely against his side, arm wrapped around waist, and toying with the soft cotton of your pajama shorts that rested against your thigh.

You moaned at the sweetness of the cold milkshake savoring your mouth. "Mm, you want some?" You offered to Eddie.

He was captivated, totally entranced by the pucker of your lips that held the creamy residue, "Mhm, yeah, I do." He whispered.

When you attempted to hand him the cold glass, he gently pushed your hand away, and consumed your mouth in a matter of seconds. The grease from his burger softened his lips, letting the pillowy feeling encapsulate you. Your hands naturally found solace on his jaw, prompting him to continue his movements, hands gripping your smooth thighs to keep you in place. As you parted your lips, Eddie's tongue snaked its way inside, officially getting a taste of that sweet vanilla that you had just swallowed.

"God, baby, you taste so good." He mewled against your lips.

His hand traveled up to your neck, securing your face in his palm, and you let your will fall in his control. His tongue prodded against yours, and the wet sounds of your spit exchanging grew entirely too inappropriate for Benny's establishment, though he didn't care. It was late, he wanted you, and no one was around.

Or so he thought.

"Gross, your gonna suffocate her!" Mike's grimacing voice broke your make out session.

While your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, Eddie scoffed, unbothered. He rolled his eyes, glaring back at Mike, who justly looked appalled, and then there was Dustin, who had that bright, big smile on his face that Eddie was starting to grow annoyed with.

"Well, hey guys!" Dustin greeted with joy. "Funny seeing you here!"

"Isn't it past your bedtimes?" Eddie jumped straight into it.

"Nice to see you, too, Eddie." Dustin smiled. Eddie watched as the kid turned to you, eyes lighting up and everything. "Hi, Y/N!"

"Hey, Dustin." You politely greeted. Unlike Eddie, you didn't have it in you to be so blunt with disdain. "Um, what are you guys doing here so late?"

Dustin jumped with delight, quickly taking your question as an invitation to sit on the dingy booth across from you and Eddie. "Well, since you asked, Mike and I just spent the last five hours completing all twenty-seven games of Combat on my Atari!"

"Wow, that's incredible," Eddie feigned amazement, his sarcasm oozing out obviously, "now that you've told us, go." He gritted.

"Yeah, man, we have to get our food before my mom finds out we left and kills me." Mike extended, still waiting at the end of the table.

But not for long, as Dustin held a tight grip on his agile wrist, pulling him to the seating. "Nonsense, we just got here."

Eddie laughed. Not a good laugh. One of those scary laughs he pulls when he's on the precipice of enragement. "Oh, absolutely not!" His fist slammed on the table. Everyone flinched.

Dustin sneeringly dismissed Eddie, turning to you. "You don't mind if we stay, right? You always said you would welcome us."

Eddie couldn't believe his eyes. Your kindness was actively being exploited, and he watched in disbelief as you opened and closed your mouth to speak, but only an awkward laugh escaped. You peered at Dustin, back at Eddie, then to Dustin again. "Um, s-sure, I guess..."

Dustin whooped with excitement.

"Great." Eddie mumbled to himself.

You shot him an apologetic look that just exuded the words "I'm really sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you." Eddie's anger wasn’t directed at you, and he made sure you understood with a shake to his head to acknowledge, "I'm not mad at you."

He may not have been mad at you, but he was fucking furious with Dustin Henderson.

"You remember?" Eddie's words snapped you from the memory of Saturday night’s diner incident, suddenly brining you back to the setting of Eddie’s room.

You quickly nodded your head.

"Yeah, see." He proved. "And what about Sunday morning?"

Following the events of Saturday, Eddie had slept over yours, letting the resided angry dissolve as he held you in his embrace. He'd been awoken by the succulent smell of your scent, urging his morning hard-on to spring to life against your plushy ass. He tiredly nosed the hair away from the junction of your neck and shoulders to place languid kisses against your skin. His hand snaked over your hip, toying with the cute bow that was situated on the front of your lacy underwear. With a hand on your pelvis, he pushed you back against his boner, letting his wet kisses and pressuring cock stir you awake.

A sleepy whine left your pouting lips, and Eddie nearly busted at the sound of it. "Fuck, baby, you gonna let me use you?" He kissed your neck. "So fucking hard for you, princess, got me dreaming about that pussy in my sleep."

You turned your head, letting both of your lips meet in the middle, as Eddie increased the speed of his hips to hump the globes of your ass. His fingertips soon gathered a firmhold of the front of your panties, pulling upward harshly. You choked on your breath as the fabric of your underwear wedge between your puffy pussy lips, igniting the friction against your pulsating clit. You quickly began to feel the icky sensation of his precum dampening your ass, while your slick soaked your underwear, making you a wet mess all around.

"Let me have your pussy, please, baby." He groaned.

You nodded your head with permission, "Fuck, yes, please."

Eddie was quick to pull your panties from your legs, discarding the piece haphazardly across your room. Your foot hooked behind his leg to keep you nice and open, and just as his fingers were about to pleasure you seeping pussy, the phone rang.

The phone fucking rang.

You flinched at the abrupt noise that was blaring on your bedside table, and Eddie's head dropped against your shoulder in disappointment, a groan muffled by your shirt. "Just fucking ignore it, sweetheart."

"Real quick, I promise, just to make sure everything's good." You swore, as you reached for the phone.

That wasn't going to stop Eddie Munson, though. Right as you picked up, the tips of his finger pressed against your clit, eliciting a shaky "Hello" to escape your mouth. He grinned with satisfaction as he watched your eyes screw shut and your teeth sunk into your plump bottom lip.

But then the next words you uttered truly set him off.

"Oh, h-hi, Dustin."

"What?!" Eddie screamed into your ear. "Hang up the phone right now."

He was stern with his words, and stern with his movements. The pace of fingers quickened, along with your breaths and his patience.

You held up a finger to signal Eddie to hold on, as you tried your absolute best to comprehend the conversation that Dustin was attempting to have with you. "So, yeah, would you like to go to the arcade this afternoon?"

"I- Dustin, now's, uh, now is not r-really a good time- fuck." You gasped softly.

"Yeah, so fucking hang up." Eddie whispered against your cheek, as his hand slide between your wet folds, gathering all of your arousal and coming back to rubbing your pretty clit.

"Why not? Everything alright?" If it wasn’t for the current situation, you would have appreciated the kid’s concern.

"Yeah, yeah- yes!" That response was definitely not to Dustin. "Um, yes, j-just busy with Eds." You breathed out in order to filter out your moans.

"That's right, so fucking hang up!" Eddie yelled loud enough for Dustin to hear, as it was intended towards him, and his hand pulled back, slapping your cunt, the stinging vibrations traveling through your sensitive clit.

"Fuck! Gotta go." The second you slammed the phone back to the receive, Eddie rushed to climb on top of you, swallowing your wails with his hungry lips.

Meanwhile, Dustin was just left dumbfounded, staring at the deadline of his phone.

"Do you see what I'm talking about, baby?" Eddie emphasized, hands cupping your face, pleading that you'd understand.

Snapping back to reality from the memory, you were quick to nod your head again. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry about that."

"No, it's not you." He stressed. "That little shit just knows how to work his way around you. That's why he fucking came here today."

Now, today was Eddie's last straw. At least Sunday morning, he was able to get rid of Dustin and have you all to himself, but today? Today, Dustin ruined one of Eddie's favorite moment with you. A blowjob.

It was late into the evening, as Eddie splayed himself on the worn couch of his living room. His legs lazily rested over the armrest, as he nursed down a beer that was keeping him sane from having to listen the Happy Days theme song that he grew profoundly annoyed with, but he was too lazy to move and grab the remote. It'd been quite a long day for him. During third period, Mrs. Lineker shoved a pop quiz in his face, which he knew he flunked. To top it off, you had missed lunch under the guise that Chrissy Cunningham stole you away to “work on cheer routines.” As if that's not what practice is for, Eddie rolled his eyes at your kidnapping, which he proclaimed it was.

And now you actually were at practice, gone and away from Eddie when he really needed you. That was until he heard the gentle knocking coming from his front door, which he had learned was you. You entered with a bright smile that washed all of Eddie's irritations away. He truly did have a soft spot for you, and only you.

"Hi!" You happily greeted, as you situated yourself on his lap, arms snaking around his neck.

"Hi, baby." He tiredly smiled, as he caressed your sides. "You're back early."

"Yeah, coach cut practice, so I was able to get home and shower to come see you." A shy grin flushed his face as you pecked his nose with a cute kiss.

Who knew this mean guy could crack under nose kisses?

"Good," he huffed, bringing you impossibly close, "been a shit day barely being able to see you. People always stealing you away." He grumbled.

In truth, behind his domineering demeanor that seemed untouchable to anyone, Eddie was quite sensitive when it came to his feelings for you. His biggest fears lied dormant under his tough exterior, only exposing itself in the presence of a safe environment, and it became evident as he hugged you tight, because he truly feared someone would steal you away. Whether it was as superficial as Dustin Henderson seeking your attention, or potentially serious as Chrissy Cunningham who still remained unsure of your relationship after the bullshit Jason Carver fed her. He was terrified that one day you'd listen to your friends and leave. How the hell was Eddie Munson, "Freak" of Hawkins High, suppose to provide you with all the things you deserved?

He did, though. Eddie Munson gave you everything.

"I know, I'm sorry." You whispered, as you kissed his pouty lips.

But he simply shook his head, rejecting your apology. "Don't apologize." He insisted. "It's not your fault you're so lovable."

A smile emerged on his face as he made you giggle. You cupped his cheeks, and gently brushed a couple strands of his bangs to fully capture his eyes that just captivated you.

"You're so lovable, too, Eddie." He deserved to know. "I love loving you."

You gave him a firm, long kiss to solidify your words as fact, because it was. No matter how much he denied it in his overthinking head.

"I love loving you, too, princess."

Your hand traveled down his chest, exposing the bareness, as he only laid in an unbuttoned plaid shirt. "Can I show you how much I love loving you?" He immediately recognized that look in your eyes that always paired so beautifully with your salacious smile.

He blushed under your insinuation, dick twitching and goosebumps rising as your fingertips brushed his happy trail. "I don't want you to think that you have to make it up to me."

"Oh, I know." You kissed his cheek. "But I just really want to. So can I, Eddie? Can I suck your cock?"

"Fuck." His groaned, as you grabbed his semi through his sweatpants. "If I ever answer "no" to that, sweetheart, I want you to take one of Wayne's hunting guns and shoot me with it."

You laughed as you settled between his legs, and he relaxed himself on the armrest of the couch. You opened his shirt further, and ran your hands against his chest and belly before grabbing his sweatpants and shimmying them down his hips. You rubbed his hardening length, planting a quick kiss, before pulling it out of his boxers.

"Fuck, yeah, baby." He cooed, watching your small, delicate hand wrap around his cock to languidly jerk it.

You peered up at him, and quickly crawled up close to his face. "Spit in my mouth, Eddie."

He cursed under his breath, as you felt his dick jump at the request. Unable to formulate words, he quickly nodded. Grabbing your chin, he pulled you into a messy, open-mouthed make out, where his tongue lavished against yours. Soon, his grip stiffened, preventing you from closing your tingling lips. You mewled at the sensation of Eddie's spit invading your mouth, a warm globe situated on your tongue.

You pulled back from his hold, aiming down to his cock, where you parted your lips to let his spit coat himself. “Oh, my fuck- just looking at you is gonna make me cum.”

His abs contracted as you held a firm grip to his cock, jerking the spit to his base and up and around his blistering red head. You suctioned on his frenulum, eliciting the sweet moans he desperately tried to hold back. "Shit, baby, oh my god." He muttered.

You kissed down his shaft, eventually nosing the fuzzy skin of his balls, that tensed at your arrival. Peering up with your large doe eyes, Eddie swore under his breath, meeting your contact, and raking his hand through your hair.

"Yes, princess, suck on my balls." He moaned, as your tongue ravished his taste. "Fuck, get 'em all messy for me, baby, please."

As your left hand jerked him, your right held a tight grip between his thigh and balls to secure all access from his opened legs. Soon enough, you popped one of his large balls into your mouth, his musky scent invading your senses.

"Shit, shit- fuck, make me feel good, sweetheart. God, I'm gonna give you everything I got, baby, just keep sucking." He whimpered.

His hand was yanking the roots of your hair, shoving your nose against the curls of his pubic hair, as your hand circled around his oozing tip. Dating Eddie had led you onto the beautiful journey of learning all his sweet spots, so you knew to massage the area beneath his balls, which quickly proved right, as his body twitched at the mere sensation.

"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

With a wet pop, you switched to his other throbbing ball, enjoying the sight of his sticky bangs framing his face and eyes fluttering shut. It was pure fucking heaven for Eddie Munson.

Until it turned into straight hell.

*Knock, knock, knock,* "Hey, guys!"

Dustin. Fucking. Henderson.

Now, Eddie knew he was an asshole; every insult, shove, push, punch, and crime he's ever committed flooded his mind as to what might be the cause of his bad karma. He knew he made bad decisions in his life that very much came to an inconvenience to everyone else in Hawkins, but he never claimed to be virtuous man. But did he really deserve this? This punishment? This torment? This torture?

"Hello? You guys in there?" God, the kid's voice came out like nails on a chalk board to Eddie.

He watched the front door, praying to a god that he sure as hell didn't believe in, that Dustin would leave. But his attention quickly snapped to you, when you dropped one of his balls from his mouth.

You heaved, "We should sto-"

"No, no, no, no, no!" Eddie whined, quickly shoving your head down his cock, quietly moaning at the gag you urged from the forceful intrusion to your throat. "S-sorry, I really need this. Ignore him."

So, you did.

Your tongue swiveled around his shaft, lips dragging the wetness of spit, slobber, drool, and precum up and down his length, as you hollowed in your cheeks to speed along his impending orgasm.

But the knocking was insistent.

"Hey! I know you're in there! I see both your cars out here!" Dustin yelled.

God, this wasn't happening, Eddie thought. It can't be! By far, one of the messiest and best blowjobs he's ever received was being interrupted at this very moment. Not to mention, every time Dustin knocked or spoke, all he got was a mental image of the curly-haired kid that hurdled his orgasm back from release.

Just focus on your beautiful girlfriend sucking on your cock, your beautiful girlfriend sucking on your cock, your beautiful girlfriend sucking on your co-

"Come on, guys! Eddie?! Y/N?!"

You pulled off. Eddie wanted to cry. "Maybe we should stop?" You suggested sympathetically.

Letting go of your head, Eddie dropped his face into his hands in defeat. You felt bad, you honestly did. But there was no way you could continue sucking his dick as Dustin's presence loomed right outside. You sat back on your heels as you watched Eddie huff. There was no longer sadness. Just pure fucking rage.

He stood from the couch, pulling his sweats up, and grabbing a throw pillow to cover his throbbing cock that bulged through the material. He footsteps echoed loudly, each stomp shaking the weak foundation of the trailer. You feared for Dustin's fate.

Throwing the door open, Eddie didn't let Dustin mutter single word of salutations. "What?! What, in the absolute fuck do you want?! What the fuck?!"

Dustin flinched back at Eddie's screams, agitation consuming the kid's face, as every ounce of spit had doused his head from the yelling. Though clearly frightened from Eddie's killing looks, Dustin knew he wouldn't hurt him, especially not in front of you. He was smart. Brushing away the spurts of spit, Dustin merely sauntered past Eddie and into the trailer.

Completely disregarding Eddie, Dustin spoke, "God, who pissed in his cornflakes, am I right?" With a loud giggle, as he sat next to you.

You, who could only awkwardly laugh and rub an remaining drool from your chin that didn't reveal what you were just doing.

Eddie's mouth dropped at Dustin's actions, watching the young boy get comfortable right on the spot that he was just receiving head. If this was a cartoon, steam would be blowing from Eddie's ears. Honestly, if you squinted hard enough, you could probably see it.

"Are you fucking insane?!" Eddie shouted. "Did I say you could fucking come in?! Get out!”

Eddie truly was getting scary at this point, you'd never seen him so angry, it was jarring. Dustin curled into your side, knowing any potential harm wouldn't be done with you by his side. So, he crossed his arms, "No, I just got here."

"Why?!" Eddie threw the couch pillow he was holding—boner long gone—at Dustin's head.

"Because I wanna hang out!" Dustin yelled back. "We're friends, remember." Eddie didn't appreciate the rhetorical question that Dustin implied with stupidity.

"You have other fucking friends!"

God, it was times like these you wished you had the guts to be confrontation.

"No." Dustin pointed out matter of factly. "Mike is on the phone with El, and Lucas went to the comic book store with Max. They're all with their girlfriends."

Eddie pulled his hair as if he was going insane. You'd never seen his eyes so wide. "I'm with my girlfriend, you little shit!" He pointed to you.

Dustin turned to look at you. Oh, no. You knew what was coming.

"Well, Y/N, do you want me to stay?"

"U-um-"

"No!" Eddie quickly interjected. "You don't get to fucking talk to her! She's my girlfriend!"

"Well, she's my friend!"

Eddie breathed out a couple times to catch his breath. His adrenaline was pulsating like crazy, and he was doing everything in his will power to not choke the kid out. "Alright." He panted. "You wanna stay. Stay." Eddie reached for your hand and pulled you from the couch. "But we're not staying with you."

He began guiding you to his room, as Dustin scoffed. "Eddie." You attempted to plead.

"Nope." He was stern with his stance. "Not fucking staying with him."

Eddie had dragged you into his room with a loud slam to his door. And that's where you were right now, in the low light of his bedroom as he reiterated all the interrupted moments caused by Dustin.

"That little shit just knows how to work his way around you. That's why he fucking came here today." Eddie groaned, as he finished his stressing tirade.

"Well, I don't know what to do." You gently spoke to calm his aggravated nerves.

“You gotta give it to him straight, sweetheart." Eddie urged. "He won't fucking leave until you tell him to."

"But I can't do that to him." You pouted. "That's mean."

God, you were so fucking cute. But cute isn't what he needs right now. "Baby, you've been dating me long enough that some of me has had to rub off on you."

You groaned, entirely out of your comfort zone. "Fine, but you have to calm down." You pointed, the best austere look you could muster, discipling him like a kid.

Eddie giggled at you. "Sure, anything for you." He kissed your tense forehead. "Sorry for the yelling."

After a couple more kisses and breaths, you both made your way back to the living room, Dustin still sitting at the same spot, smug look to his face. "Well, that was pretty fast. Miss me already?" Was it wrong that Eddie wanted to punch him right then and there?

"Actually, she needs to tell you something." Eddie sneered back, placing you right on the spot. He sat you right on the coffee table in front of Dustin, standing behind and massaging your shoulders, keeping his hands busy from connecting with Dustin's face. "Go on, babe. Tell him."

"Um, well, Dustin, w-we were thinking that maybe it's best if we have a-a little... alone time." You were walking on eggshells trying to keep both heavily opinionated boys at bay. God, they were more alike than they realized.

"What?" Dustin looked shocked at your revelation.

"What she means is, get out." Eddie smiled with glee.

Dustin scoffed, "What did you do to her?! I know you just made her say that!"

"What?!" So much for being calm. "I didn't make her do anything! She's tired of you always butting in, just too nice to say it! But I'll say it, you're driving us crazy, get out!"

"Shut up! Both of you!" Dustin and Eddie instantaneously quieted down at your newfound voice that they never once heard above its usual soft-spoken octave. "You're both driving me crazy!"

"Well, he started it. Always trying to take your attention." Eddie grumbled.

"Attention?! Are you jealous? Of me? I’m fourteen, you’re like old as shit!"

That snapped Eddie.

He tried to lunge at Dustin, "Okay! Okay!" But you were quick to hug his waist and pull him back. Dustin, of course, dramatically shrieked and fell back onto the couch as if he got hit.

Too much yelling, and too much hair was flying around for your liking. You were going to explode with stress.

"Look, Dustin, we love spending time with you, really, but there are times when Eddie and I just want to be alone together!"

"Yeah!" Eddie laughed at the young boy's sullen face.

But you were quick to turn back to Eddie. "And you! You have got to stop being so mean!" You got close and whispered to him directly. "I know this is rooted deeper for you, but I'm not leaving you, Eddie. Ever. For anyone. Get that through your head. You have every right to be annoyed, but don't so callous towards him or anyone, in general."

Eddie sighed, nodding his head, and understanding your words. Finally, a moment of clarity. He rubbed the wrinkles of your furrowed brows, clearly stressed from having to be placed in the middle of their quarrel. "Yeah, yeah, sorry, baby, you're right."

He leaned down, placing a loving kiss to your lips that denoted all his admiration for you. You both understood his underlying insecurities, and how they transcribed from his shitty childhood. Eddie Munson so undeservingly got dealt a bad hand at life that his pure heart shouldn't have had to endure. But the beauty of Eddie Munson was that his pure heart still remained, even if it was picky with the people it opened up to. You were beyond please you were one of them. Because you loved loving Eddie Munson. And Eddie knew you were worth fixing said issues; anger, insecurity, jealousy. Even if it took a lot of time and a lot of risk. But your heart and face eased his worries. He'd do anything for you.

"Hey, uh," Shit, you almost forgot Dustin was still there, "I'm really sorry, too." Dustin appeared guilty as can be. "I didn't mean to be so annoying."

"No, you're not annoying-"

"Well..."

"Eddie." You swatted his chest.

"Kidding, kidding." He threw his hands up, a chuckle leaving his mouth. "I'm kidding, Dustin."

"Look, it's just nice to know someone like you actually wants to be my friend." Dustin smiled.

"Like me?" You questioned.

"Yeah, you know, funny, popular, and sweet." He nervously played with his hands.

"Aw, Dustin." You hugged him, Eddie playfully scoffed at the melting look blushing over Dustin's face, clearly loving your affection. "You're so cute, but you don't have to prioritize my friendship over the others."

"Yeah, what the hell does she got that I don't?" Eddie smiled, as you rolled your eyes and Dustin at least laughed. He marched over and ruffled Dustin's curls. "Seriously, you getting tired of us in Hellfire?" Eddie teased.

"No, never." Dustin smiled.

"Good, we need you at Hellfire. Who else are we gonna sacrifice during our DnD campaign next week?"

"What?!" Eddie barked out a laugh, as Dustin eventually caught on and eased his heart from the potential worry. "Don't scare me like that."

"But it's so fun." Eddie chuckled.

"Okay, so are we good here? No more yelling?" You assured, pointing at both with your chastising demeanor.

"Yeah, yeah, we're good." Eddie soothed your arm. "Sorry for the stress, baby."

"Yeah, sorry." Dustin added. "But do you really want me to leave?" he peered between both of you.

"Look, kid, how about this," Eddie began, "I'll take you to the comic store, where I'm sure Lucas and Max are still there. Can spend the day with them, while we have our time," he proffered, "and in return, you can stop by tomorrow when Y/N is staying over and work on one segment of our upcoming campaign."

You'd never seen Dustin's face light up so brightly before. "Really? I can help you with DnD?"

"Only one segment." Eddie clarified. "Don't need your mouth blabbin' to the others."

"Deal!"

You could physically feel the weight on your shoulders release as all tension was gone. While Eddie briefly left to change, you made sure to place in an order for pizza, as you both felt deserving of a nice meal after the ensemble that had just occurred. Eddie returned with his jacket in hand and his shoes untied, too unbothered to care.

"I'll be back soon, sweetheart, I'll be sure to be quick," He leaned in planting a wet smooch on your cheek and whispered in your ear, "because my dick still kinda hurts from not cumming."

[sweetbans29]

Jersey - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: Caitlin likes her jersey better on you than she does on herself (based on THIS request)

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 3.1k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: What any of us would do for this...

When you met Caitlin sophomore year of high school, you would have never imagined your friendship and relationship to get you where you are today. The two of you played on Iowa Attack and that is when you learned just how amazing she was.

It would be a lie to say that the two of you connected right away - you actually butted heads at the beginning. When the two of you first started playing - she wasn't the best teammate. And that was a knock to her, it was a learning curve that everyone had to navigate. She was just that good.

But once the team got more practice together and began to learn how Caitlin played and how everyone played a role, the team really began feeling like a team. It rubbed you the wrong way in the beginning but the more you got to know her and her game it made sense. She was so far ahead of everyone when it came to her knowledge of the game that you could understand where she was coming from.

It was your senior year of high school when the two of you started dating. You made the first move even though she was the one to be completely obvious when it came to her feelings for you. You wanted to make your first date memorable so you asked her mom to help.

You show up at Caitlin's house at 10AM on a Saturday morning and knock on her door. She opens the door and is surprised to see you standing there.

"What are you doing here?" Caitlin asks with a little blush.

"Why hello to you too," you say with a smile. You can Caitlin's nerves with your presence. She tries to keep it cool and play them off but you just stand there and watch her struggle. First, one of her arms comes up and leans against the door while she crosses her leg. When the door begins to move she realizes it is a bad idea and stops leaning on the door and decides to put her hands on her hips to keep her hands from fidgeting.

"You know you are cute when you are nervous," you say and she blushes even more.

"You didn't answer my question," she says trying to regain any part of this meeting.

"Well, if you must know," you say with a teasing tone and the biggest smile. "I am taking you on a date."

She looks at you with wide eyes, a smile immediately making its way to her face.

"Wait, what?" She says with a goofy grin - her heart beating faster now than it does in any game.

"Caitlin Clark, we are going on a date," you say again, your smile matching hers. Her smile fades as a realization hits her.

"Wait, my mom needs me to help her with some family stuff today," Cait says, now frowning.

"No, she doesn't, I sort of roped her into helping me block out your schedule today so I could take you out," you say proudly that your plan had worked.

"Mom!" Caitlin yells as she immediately goes to find her. When she walks away from the door, you step inside and wait for her to return.

"Mom! Aunt Ellie isn't coming over today?" Cait asks. Her mom laughs.

"Well, she is, but we don't need your help. You are going out today," her mom says as she hands Cait a bag.

"What is this?" Caitlin asks, looking at the zipped-up tote bag. She begins to unzip it.

"Nope! You can't look in there yet," Anne's hand comes and stops her daughter. "She will let you know when you can."

Caitlin turns back to look at you standing by the front door. She goes back to where you are.

"Are you ready?" You ask.

She nods with excitement and you guide her out to your car.

"So where are we going?" She asks as you begin the drive.

"You will just have to wait and see," you say with a smile.

It was almost a 3-hour car ride but you finally made it to your destination. Once you were near your final destination, you let Caitlin open the bag her mom handed her. Inside is her Chiefs jersey.

"We are not," Caitlin says as she pulls out her jersey. "There is no way."

You laugh.

"Ya, I actually just drove us out here to go watch it at some local restaurant." You say and she whips her head to look at you in disbelief.

"I kid," you say putting your hand up and telling her to look in the bag. Under the jerseys were two tickets to the game that afternoon.

The two of you spent the day cheering on the Chiefs, eating all of the stadium food you could hold, and enjoying each other's company. On the drive home, you both were riding the high of your team's win. It is only when you are pulling up to her house that she becomes quiet. You park your car and she doesn't make a move to get out.

"Why...how did you do this?" Caitlin asks looking down at her hands.

You give the girl a question look - not that she sees. When you don't answer right away she continues.

"Why me?" She asks fighting the urge inside her to remain looking at her hands and turns her head to look at you. You look at the girl with love-filled eyes and a gentle smile.

"Why not you Caitlin? We've been friends now for a few years and even though I may have had my reservations about you in the beginning, you let me in and showed me who you are. A girl who feels so deeply that she doesn't know what to do with it half the time. You may be reserved with the world, and rightfully so I might add, but you have welcomed me into your heart and have made sure I stick around a while. You never explicitly said you liked me but seeing how your actions have changed towards me the last few months - the protecting, the asking intentional questions, the nervousness, all of it never went unnoticed. You were just too busy caring for me to see that I have been trying to love you back." You say as Cait sits there in disbelief and trying to wrack her brain for any of your signs the last few months. You take her hand in yours.

"So I got tired of waiting - I felt like I knew you well enough to know at the rate you were going, you would have never asked me out before heading to Iowa and I took matters into my own hands. I got together with your mom and dad and they helped me plan this." You bring her hand up to kiss the back of it.

Caitlin is too stunned to speak - she has never had anyone who has loved her like you are. You bring your free hand to cup her face, your thumb brushing against her cheek.

"I am going to kiss you now," you say slowly leaning in. You can see the effect you are having on her as her chest begins to rise and fall twice as fast. You bring her into a gentle kiss - it is slow and innocent. Once you pull apart, you both smile.

Now the two of you have moved to Indiana together and are starting life outside of Iowa for the first time. It's both an exciting and challenging time as Cait navigates the transition to the W right out of college. After finding an apartment - you started learning about the city while Caitlin jumped right into training camp.

The beginning of the season is a rough start as the Fever navigates a fairly new team. You can tell it all takes a toll on Cait mentally as she is trying to figure out what playing in the W looks like. The transition is something both of you were expecting but not to this degree. Her game wasn't what had been affected (at least not to the degree she was worried about) - it was everything aside of the game that Caitlin (and you) had to learn how to deal with. You did your best to make sure Caitlin was talking to her parents and even her old teammates this season to help encourage her and keep her sane.

She is incredibly thankful that you are there with her because aside from her parents, there is no one who knows the girl better than you do.

Her first game of the season was thrilling. It wasn't unfamiliar as Caitlin was used to playing in front of a packed house - it always fueled her even more. You were lucky enough to tag along and planned on being at every game of hers as she had them write it into her contract that you would travel with them to any away game. You had already been looking into flights when she mentioned you would just be traveling with the team.

You would always be close behind her when she would arrive at the stadiums and would often get pulled into quick little interviews about Caitlin. You would always hype her up and match her in some way shape or form.

After every game, the two of you would walk hand in hand with her jersey draped over your shoulder - ready to turn in for the night.

It had become a thing in college where Caitlin would pass along her jersey to you after every game. It became such a known thing that the uniform team would need to provide Caitlin a new jersey every game. It wasn't super uncommon but soon became known that after she put her game jersey on, it would never come back to them.

The fans also started to notice how you would walk out with Caitlin after the game with her jersey draped over your shoulder. The fans that had followed her in college knew that her game jersey was reserved for you but the newer fans had a field day when they found out. It became what you were known for.

You didn't expect it to be the same in the pros with Caitlin's jersey as you saw other players signing and handing off their jersey to a fan after the game. But without fail, after every game, Cait would walk out to you, jersey in hand, ready to hang it over your shoulder for your collection at home. The world knew that all game jerseys were yours, but what they didn't know is that before she would give them to you she would write some sort of cute message on them just for you. They would all conclude with her CC signature and the date.

It's the 6th game in the season when the Fever plays the Sparks for the first time. You are sitting in a box with some of the other staff and visitors for this game. By the end of the fourth - the Fever takes their first win of the season and the crowd and the team go crazy.

You make your way down the court when there are 2 minutes remaining and wait close to the bench as the team celebrates their first victory together.

Cait is pulled into a quick post-game interview with Aliyah and then is told to go meet someone courtside. You wait patiently, talking to some of the other players and congratulating them on a much-deserved win. You are talking with Lexie and Jason Sudeikis (who you have surprisingly built a friendship with as became to many of Cait's games) when you are pulled from your spot and are being dragged across the court by your girlfriend.

"Caitlin, I was in the middle of a conversation," you say yelling over the people. She brings you to a group of people and you immediately gasp when you see Ashton Kutcher and Mila Kunis standing there with their kids.

She introduces you and you do your best to keep your cool.

"We are such big fans of yours," you say as you hug each of them.

"You are too sweet!" Mila says as she introduces her kids.

Their daughter looks up at Caitlin with tears in her eyes and asks if she would sign and give her jersey to her.

Both Caitlin and Mila speak at the same time.

"This jersey is already claimed but I can definitely get you a signed one!" Caitlin says.

"Sweetie, you know she always gives it to her girlfriend," Mila says at the same time.

You decide to jump in.

Looking at the girl you say, " I would love if you had this jersey." Your smile beams and Caitlin is about to protest.

"But you have to promise to keep it safe for us, okay?" You say and she proceeds to nod with excitement.

You look over at Cait, who is giving you a 'but no this is yours' look and you just wave her off.

"I'll make sure it gets to you once she changes out of it okay?" You say and Ashton and Mila are both incredibly thankful for you.

"It is crazy that you knew that all of my jerseys go to her," Cait says to Mila.

"Well, we have been following you for a little while now and have seen the interview when you mentioned she has all of your jerseys from college. That is super cute," Mila says.

Caitlin blushes and you laugh.

"You would think I have enough but 139 just isn't enough," you say jokingly and Cait gives you a look of hurt - you know it is all in light spirits.

"You love it when I give you my jersey," Caitlin fights back.

"I do, and I hope you never stop," you say leaning in to hug her side, patting her on the chest.

You part ways with the Kutcher family and tell them you will get their daughter CC's jersey but not before taking a photo.

When you get back to the locker room with Caitlin, she changes and your take the jersey.

Later that night you are scrolling through your social media feed and see Mila had tagged you in a post. You pull it up to see it is the group photo that was taken followed by a photo of her daughter in Caitlin's jersey. You smile and like it, leaving a comment - 'No one else I would rather share CC's game day jersey with 🫶🏽'.

You scroll through the comments and see how cute it is and how that is a one-in-a-million jersey. You turn over to Cait, who is lying next to you, and show her.

"I can't believe you gave away my first Fever win jersey," she mumbles. You laugh at her.

"I have your pre-season win jersey! And there was no way we were saying no to Ashton Kutcher and Mila Kunis," you say.

"Even she was saying that jersey belonged to you," Caitlin retorts.

"I think we will both live if I don't have a jersey from today," you say and kiss her shoulder.

"That's what you think, but lucky for you - I made sure you wouldn't go home empty-handed," she says as she gets out of bed and brings her over her warm-up shirt from the game.

"Caitlin, you did not." You say sitting up and taking the shirt from her.

You look down at it and see her message.

[My girl - This first win goes to you and the heart of gold you have. Here's to many more. I love you - CC 5.24.24]

She is still standing next to your bed when you reach up to hug her. Her arms wrap around you faster than yours can wrap around her.

"I love you, you know that?" You say squeezing your girl.

"I know and I love you even more," she says as she nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck.

BONUS - SOME OF THE MESSAGES CAITLIN WRITES ON HER JERSEYS FOR YOU

[My girl - To the first of many, a little thank you. I love you - CC 11.25.20]

[My girl - Let the fun begin - CC 3.23.21]

[My girl - I tried but 46 wasn't enough. Thank you for cheering me on no matter what. I love you - CC 2.6.22]

[My girl - Thank you for the pregame pep talk, it was needed more than you know. Michigan didn't stand a chance. Love you - CC 2.27.22]

[My girl - First double-double of the season, feeling good. Love hearing you in the crowd. Love you - CC 11.10.22]

[My girl - Not the way we wanted to ring in the new year but having you here made it better. We will get them next time. Love you - CC 1.1.23]

[My girl - A triple-double to take us to the final four, who would have thought...I mean you, you knew I could. I love you - CC 3.26.23]

[My girl - That one was rough, thank you for always cheering me on. I love you - CC 4.2.23]

[My girl - The beginning of the end. So glad you are here with me. Love you - CC 11.6.23]

[My girl - Thank you for loving me through my worst. You are the best - CC 2.11.24]

[My girl - I did it, babe! Most points in D1 women's basketball AND school high with career-high scoring for a game, easy. Hope you enjoy this birthday gift, love you - CC 2.15.24]

[My girl - Not to brag but your girl is the all-time leading scorer in the NCAA. - CC 3.3.24]

[My girl - No mercy, we have been working for this all year. Love you - CC 4.1.24]

[My girl - I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me, your support at every game fueled me. Thank you, baby. Yours forever - CC 4.7.24]

[My girl - Here's to a whole new adventure and jersey for your collection. I love you - CC 5.3.24]

[My girl - This first win goes to you and the heart of gold you have. Here's to many more. I love you - CC 5.24.24]

[My girl - Marry me? - CC 9.19.24]

AN: This is cute. I'm a fan but let me know what you think. And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[pinkmoontaco]

Melodies of Us || Lee Jihoon

Pairing: Producer-Idol Woozi x Pianist Reader Genre: Fluff, Idol romance, Childhood crush Summary: 'Melodies of Us' follows Woozi, a seventeen member, a music producer, and Y/N, a pianist, as they reconnect after years apart. Despite facing public scrutiny and the pressures of fame, their love grows stronger. After a brief separation to navigate the challenges of their careers, they reunite, learning to trust and support each other through the highs and lows, with music always being the backdrop of their shared journey. Authors note: Hi everyone! I’ve poured my heart into writing this story, inspired by the Woozi video one of you recommended. Your love and support mean the world to me, so please give it a lot of love and share your thoughts in the comments. Your feedback truly inspires me to keep creating and improving. I’d love to know what you think and hear your favorite moments from the story! Love you guys!!!

Shoutout to @am-injel for recommending the video

If you have any requests for any member or any other groups feel free to do so

The small music room at the edge of the middle school was a hidden corner where Jihoon often escaped. It wasn’t because he was shy—though he wasn’t the loudest kid in the class—but because he liked the calmness. Playing the piano, even just practicing scales, was his way of unwinding.

One afternoon, as he pushed the door open, he paused. Someone was already there.

It was Y/N.

She sat on the wobbly piano bench, poking at the keys in a rhythm that sounded more like an experiment than a song. Her uniform sleeves were rolled up, her bag on the floor, and her focus entirely on the instrument. Jihoon recognized her immediately—she was a year ahead, a popular "noona" everyone seemed to know.

“Noona?” Jihoon said hesitantly.

Y/N turned, surprised. “Oh! I didn’t know anyone else came here.”

Y/N tilted her head, “You know, I’ve seen you around. You’re Jihoon, right? The guy who’s always with his guitar.”

He nodded, surprised she even remembered his name. “Yeah… That’s me.”

Jihoon hesitated. “It’s usually empty.” He stepped inside, looking at her curiously. “Do you play?”

“Not really,” Y/N admitted with a small laugh. “I just wanted to try it. But…” She pressed a few keys randomly. “I don’t think I’m any good.”

Jihoon moved closer, his fingers twitching with the urge to correct her posture. “You’re pressing too hard,” he said. “Here.”

Without waiting for permission, he leaned down slightly, guiding her fingers to the correct placement. Y/N followed his instruction, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Like this?” she asked.

Jihoon nodded. “Yeah, noona. That’s better.”

She grinned at him. “You’re good at this, Jihoon. Do you come here often?”

“Almost every day,” he said quietly, still a bit shy under her bright gaze.

“Then maybe you can teach me?” she asked, her voice teasing but warm.

He blinked, caught off guard. “Uh... if you want.”

A few weeks later, Jihoon was standing on the baseball field, glove in hand.

Jihoon caught a glimpse of Y/N standing near the sidelines. She wasn’t supposed to be there—it was a middle school practice, after all—but she was watching him, waving with a wide smile.

“Noona’s here?” Jihoon muttered under his breath, feeling his heart skip a beat.

“Let’s go, Jihoon!” Y/N called, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Show them what you’ve got!”

The teasing tone in her voice made him blush, with her watching, he couldn’t afford to mess up.

The game was intense, and Jihoon did his best to focus, blocking out the awkward feeling of Y/N watching him. He managed to catch the ball each time, despite his initial hesitation.

When practice ended, Jihoon walked over to her, brushing dirt off his uniform. “What are you doing here, noona?”

“I was curious,” she said with a shrug. “And I wanted to see you play.”

“Me?” Jihoon asked, surprised.

“Well, yeah. I didn’t know you were this good at baseball too.” Her grin was wide and sincere.

Jihoon scratched the back of his neck, feeling warmth creep up his face. “I’m not that good...”

“You are,” Y/N said, leaning forward slightly. “You just don’t give yourself enough credit.”

That evening, as Jihoon walked home, he couldn’t stop replaying the sound of her laughter and the way she’d called his name from the sidelines. For a boy who kept most things to himself, her presence was like a bright light in his quiet world.

And though he wouldn’t say it out loud, he hoped Y/N would show up again—at the piano, at the field, or anywhere else he could catch her smile.

A few days after the baseball game, Jihoon returned to the music room after school. He expected the usual silence, but when he opened the door, Y/N was already there. She sat on the piano bench, her fingers lightly brushing the keys, as if she were waiting for him.

“Noona,” Jihoon said, surprised. “You’re here again?”

Y/N looked up, her smile brightening the room. “Of course! I figured my teacher might show up, so I didn’t want to miss the chance to learn.”

Jihoon flushed. “I’m not your teacher…”

“Sure you are,” she teased, patting the bench beside her. “Come on. Show me something new.”

He hesitated before sitting down, careful to leave a bit of space between them. “Did you practice what I showed you last time?”

Y/N nodded enthusiastically, though the sheepish look on her face told him otherwise. “Kind of? But I think I need a lot more practice. You’re way better at this.”

Jihoon chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Okay, noona. Let’s try again.”

As he guided her through the basics, he couldn’t help but notice how close they were. Her laughter filled the room whenever she hit the wrong key, and her determination to get it right made him smile. She wasn’t like anyone he’d met before—confident yet patient, teasing yet kind.

A week later, Y/N showed up at another one of Jihoon’s baseball practices.

“Are you going to be at every game now?” Jihoon asked as he approached her during a water break.

“Maybe,” she said with a playful shrug. “I like watching you play. It’s fun seeing you so focused.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “Noona, you’re embarrassing me.”

“That’s my job,” Y/N said, grinning.

Jihoon glanced at his teammates, who were watching the interaction with curious smirks. He could already hear the teasing they’d throw at him later, but for some reason, he didn’t mind.

“Fine,” Jihoon said, trying to sound nonchalant. “But don’t cheer too loud next time.”

“No promises,” she replied, sticking out her tongue.

As spring turned into summer, Y/N and Jihoon began spending more time together. She would wait for him after practice, chatting about her day as they walked home. Sometimes, they stopped by the corner store to share ice cream, sitting on the curb as the sun dipped below the horizon.

One evening, after a particularly long practice, Jihoon and Y/N sat on the school steps, watching the sky turn shades of orange and pink.

“Jihoon,” Y/N said suddenly, her voice softer than usual.

“Hmm?” he murmured, resting his chin on his knees.

“Do you ever think about what you want to do when you grow up?”

He thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe something with music. Or baseball. I haven’t really decided.”

She smiled, tilting her head to look at him. “I think you’ll be great at whatever you choose. You’re the kind of person who works hard for what they want.”

Jihoon turned his head, surprised by her words. “You really think so?”

“Of course,” she said, bumping his shoulder lightly with hers. “You’re pretty amazing, Jihoon.”

His face grew warm, and he looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “Thanks, noona.”

As they sat there in the fading light, Jihoon realized something: he didn’t just enjoy spending time with Y/N—he looked forward to it. Her presence made the quiet moments brighter and the loud ones more bearable.

Summer break had arrived, and with it came long, lazy days and the warmth of the sun. Jihoon thought it would mean fewer chances to see Y/N, but she surprised him one morning by showing up at the school baseball field during practice.

“Noona, don’t you have anything better to do?” Jihoon called out as she leaned against the fence, waving at him.

“Nope,” she said cheerfully. “I’m on summer break too, you know. And besides…” She grinned. “You’re the most entertaining thing around here.”

Jihoon shook his head, turning back to the field. He tried to focus on practice, but he could feel her eyes on him the whole time. When the coach finally called for a break, Jihoon jogged over to where she was sitting on the bleachers.

“Did you come all the way here just to watch me?” he asked, catching his breath.

“Maybe,” Y/N teased, holding up a bottle of water. “Here, you look like you need this.”

“Thanks,” Jihoon said, taking it. He hesitated before adding, “You didn’t have to come, though.”

“I wanted to,” she said simply, her tone sincere.

Jihoon didn’t know how to respond to that. He wasn’t used to people going out of their way for him.

Later that week, Y/N invited Jihoon to join her at the park. It was a warm afternoon, and they found a spot under the shade of a large tree. Y/N had brought a picnic blanket and snacks, and Jihoon had brought his baseball glove, just in case.

“Noona, you really don’t get tired of hanging out with me?” Jihoon asked as he tossed a baseball into the air and caught it.

“Nope,” she said, lying on her back and looking up at the sky. “Why? Are you tired of me?”

“No!” Jihoon blurted out, sitting up straighter. “I mean… no, I’m not.”

Y/N laughed, sitting up and leaning her chin on her knees. “You’re fun to be around, Jihoon. Even if you’re quiet.”

“I’m not that fun,” he muttered, looking down at the ball in his hands.

“You don’t see it, do you?” she said, her voice softer now. “You’re hardworking, talented, and you care about the things that matter to you. That’s why I like spending time with you.”

Jihoon’s heart skipped a beat. He glanced at her, her expression warm and sincere, and felt the familiar flutter in his chest.

“Thanks, noona,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied, smiling brightly.

As the summer days passed, Jihoon found himself growing more and more comfortable around Y/N. She became a constant presence in his life, showing up to his practices, sharing snacks at the park, and even challenging him to board games at her house.

But one evening, as they sat on the swings at the park, Jihoon couldn’t keep the question inside anymore.

“Noona,” he began, his voice hesitant.

“Yeah?” Y/N replied, gently swaying back and forth.

“Why do you spend so much time with me?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the ground.

She stopped swinging and looked at him, her expression thoughtful. “Because I like being around you, Jihoon. You’re different from everyone else. You’re honest, and you make me feel… calm.”

“Calm?” Jihoon repeated, finally looking up at her.

“Yeah,” she said with a soft laugh. “Like I can just be myself when I’m with you. No pretending, no pressure. Just… me.”

Jihoon didn’t know what to say to that. His chest felt tight, and his hands gripped the chains of the swing a little harder.

“You’re special to me, Jihoon,” Y/N added, her voice gentle.

Jihoon’s breath caught. He wanted to say something back, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he nodded, hoping she could see how much her words meant to him.

That night, as Jihoon lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he thought about Y/N’s smile, her laughter, and the way she made the world feel just a little bit brighter.

For the first time, he let himself admit what he’d been feeling all along.

He liked her.

The news came unexpectedly.

Jihoon had always been good at music and baseball, but he never thought those talents would lead to something bigger. So when a company scout came to his school after hearing about his musical abilities and offered him a chance to audition as a trainee, Jihoon was stunned.

“Seoul?” he repeated, sitting across from his parents at the dinner table. “They want me to move to Seoul?”

His mother nodded, her expression a mix of pride and worry. “It’s a big opportunity, Jihoon. But it’s also a big decision. Are you sure this is what you want?”

Jihoon hesitated. He thought about his small town, his school, his friends. And then, he thought about Y/N.

“I’ll think about it,” he said quietly, retreating to his room.

The next day, Jihoon found himself in the music room after school, nervously tapping his fingers against the piano keys. He had texted Y/N to meet him there, and now he was waiting, unsure of how to tell her.

When Y/N walked in, she immediately noticed his tense posture. “Jihoon, what’s wrong?”

He looked up, his heart sinking at the concern in her eyes. “Noona, I have something to tell you.”

“Okay,” she said, sitting down beside him on the bench. “What is it?”

“I got an offer,” Jihoon said, his voice barely above a whisper. “To go to Seoul. To become a trainee at a company.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “What? Jihoon, that’s amazing!”

He glanced at her, surprised. “You think so?”

“Of course!” she said, grabbing his hand without thinking. “This is huge, Jihoon. You’re so talented. They’d be lucky to have you.”

“But…” Jihoon hesitated, looking down at their joined hands. “It means I’d have to leave. I wouldn’t be here anymore.”

Y/N’s excitement faltered, and for a moment, there was silence.

“When would you leave?” she asked softly.

“Next month,” he admitted. “If I decide to go.”

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. “Jihoon, I won’t lie—it’ll be hard not having you here. But this is your dream, isn’t it?”

Jihoon nodded slowly. “I think so. But I don’t want to leave you, noona.”

Her heart ached at his words, but she forced a smile. “Jihoon, you can’t let that stop you. You’re going to do amazing things, and I’ll always be here cheering for you, no matter where you are.”

He looked up at her, his eyes glistening. “Promise?”

“Promise,” she said, holding out her pinky.

Jihoon hesitated before linking his pinky with hers. “I’ll miss you, noona.”

“I’ll miss you too,” she said softly.

The day Jihoon left for Seoul was bittersweet. His parents dropped him off at the train station, and Y/N was there, standing a little apart from the crowd.

Jihoon walked over to her, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Noona,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Jihoon,” she replied, her smile wavering.

For a moment, they just stood there, neither wanting to say goodbye. Finally, Y/N reached out and pulled him into a hug.

“Work hard,” she whispered. “And don’t forget to eat. You’re terrible at remembering that.”

Jihoon chuckled, though it sounded more like a sob. “I won’t forget.”

She pulled back, her hands resting on his shoulders. “You’re going to be great, Jihoon. I believe in you.”

“Thank you, noona,” he said, his voice steady despite the lump in his throat.

As the train pulled into the station, Jihoon reluctantly let go of her and stepped onto the platform. He turned back one last time, waving as the train doors closed.

Y/N waved back, her smile bright even as tears rolled down her cheeks.

In Seoul, Jihoon threw himself into training. The days were long, the competition fierce, and the pressure overwhelming. But every time he felt like giving up, he thought about Y/N’s smile, her encouragement, and the promise they had made.

He worked harder, knowing she was rooting for him from afar.

Years passed, and Jihoon’s dream of becoming a successful musician became a reality. After years of hard training, countless auditions, and endless performances, he had finally made it. As a member of the group that was taking the world by storm, his name was now known, his face recognized, and his music appreciated.

But despite the fame and the accolades, something was missing.

It had been years since he last saw Y/N. The memory of her smile, the sound of her laughter, and the warmth of her words always lingered in his mind. And so, one cold winter evening, Jihoon made a decision.

He would go back to his hometown, the place where it all began—the place where he had first met Y/N, the place that felt both familiar and distant now.

Jihoon stood in front of his old school, the place where he had once walked the halls as a shy, aspiring student. The building was quieter now, its paint chipped, and the playground that once hosted their after-school games seemed smaller than he remembered. But everything still felt... comforting.

He walked through the gates, a rush of memories flooding his mind. He could almost hear the sound of the baseball hitting the bat, the feel of the piano keys beneath his fingers. And then, he remembered Y/N.

He thought he would find her here, that she might still be in this place, still waiting to see him, just like he had always imagined.

With each step, his heart beat faster, hope rising in his chest. Maybe she was still living in the same neighborhood, or perhaps she had stayed in touch with some of their old friends.

But when he asked around, no one seemed to know where she was.

“I think she moved a while ago,” one of his old classmates said when Jihoon mentioned Y/N. “She went to college in Seoul, and after that, I’m not sure.”

Jihoon’s heart sank. He had hoped, even just for a moment, that he would find her here, in the place where it all started. He wandered around the familiar streets, searching for any trace of her.

But there was nothing.

The next day, Jihoon stood in front of the old piano at his middle school, his fingers lightly brushing the keys. The room was empty now, no longer the sanctuary it once was. It felt so different without Y/N’s presence, without her laughter echoing through the space.

“I thought I would find you here,” Jihoon whispered to no one in particular, his voice lost in the quiet of the room.

He closed his eyes, thinking back to those days when everything was simpler, when Y/N had been the one person who had made him feel like he wasn’t alone in the world.

He never expected fame to come so quickly, or for it to be so isolating. But as he stood in that quiet music room, Jihoon realized something: No matter how much time passed, no matter how many accomplishments he achieved, there was one thing he could never replace.

The feeling of being understood.

The warmth of her presence.

He missed her more than he had ever realized.

The following days were a blur. Jihoon returned to Seoul, unable to shake the emptiness that lingered in his chest. He threw himself into his work, but it was harder than ever to focus. His thoughts kept drifting back to the girl he had left behind—the girl who had believed in him before anyone else had.

He wondered if she still thought about him.

Did she remember their pinky promise?

The thought that maybe she had forgotten him haunted him, but he couldn’t let go of the hope that their paths might cross again one day.

Months later, Jihoon was at a variety show, doing an interview with his members. They were talking about their past, their training days, and their dreams. When it came time for Jihoon to answer a question, the host asked, “Jihoon, you’ve come a long way from your hometown. Is there anyone there you still keep in touch with?”

Jihoon paused, the question catching him off guard. He hadn’t really talked about Y/N in years. His throat tightened as he thought about her.

“I… I had a friend,” he began, his voice soft. “She was someone who really believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. She was always there, even when I didn’t realize it.”

The other members looked at him curiously, but Jihoon didn’t continue. He didn’t need to explain everything. His mind had already drifted back to that quiet music room, the park, the baseball field—every place where Y/N had once been.

He smiled, even though there was a bittersweet ache in his chest. He might not have found her in his hometown, but he knew that no matter where she was now, she would always be a part of who he had become.

Months had passed the group’s schedule was packed, but one evening, Jihoon’s mind was still on the past as he attended a musical performance with Hoshi.

It had been an impromptu decision—Hoshi had mentioned wanting to go see a musical, and Jihoon, needing a break from his usual routine, agreed to tag along. It wasn’t something he had planned on, but he thought a night out might give him a chance to clear his mind.

The theater was elegant, the grand chandelier casting soft light over the crowded room as they found their seats. Jihoon’s thoughts wandered during the first act, but something shifted when the curtain rose for the second.

On stage, bathed in a spotlight, sat a familiar figure—her fingers dancing over the keys of a grand piano. It was a moment of pure magic, the soft music filling the room and touching something deep within Jihoon’s heart. He blinked, certain that his mind was playing tricks on him.

But when she turned slightly, her face illuminated by the stage lights, Jihoon’s heart skipped a beat.

It was Y/N.

He sat there, frozen, his breath catching in his chest. She was performing, and she was incredible. Her fingers moved with such grace, every note she played perfectly in sync with the orchestra behind her. It was clear she had been practicing, honing her skill all these years.

Hoshi nudged him with a grin. “Jihoon, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Jihoon barely heard him. His eyes were locked on Y/N, who was lost in her music, oblivious to the audience. The whole room seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of the piano and the girl he had once known.

After the performance, Jihoon couldn’t sit still. He had to see her, talk to her, just to know that she was real, that she was still out there, living her dream.

As the crowd began to disperse, Jihoon and Hoshi made their way backstage, where they were told to wait for the performers. Jihoon paced nervously, unsure of what to say. What if Y/N had changed? What if she didn’t remember him?

But when the door opened and Y/N stepped into view, her face lit up with recognition.

“Jihoon?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with disbelief.

Jihoon’s heart thudded in his chest. “Noona… it’s really you.”

Y/N’s eyes searched his face, a small smile slowly forming as she took a step closer. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Jihoon. I thought you were busy with… well, everything you’ve been doing.”

“I… I didn’t expect to see you either,” Jihoon admitted, his voice shaky. “I had no idea you were a pianist in a musical now.”

Y/N laughed, the sound so familiar that it felt like a weight lifting off Jihoon’s shoulders. “I’ve been busy too, you know? After college, I decided to pursue music full-time. This is where I ended up.”

Jihoon smiled, his heart swelling with pride. “You’re amazing, noona. I didn’t know you were this talented.”

Her cheeks flushed a little, and she looked away modestly. “Thanks, Jihoon. But what about you? Look at you now. I saw your performance on TV. You’re incredible. You’ve really made it.”

Jihoon shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond to her praise. “I guess so. But I’ve been thinking about you a lot. About… us.”

Y/N’s smile faded a little as she looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “Jihoon…”

He swallowed, nervous. “I went back to our hometown a while ago, hoping to find you. I kept asking around, but… no one knew where you were. I thought maybe you had moved on, or that I had forgotten you…”

Y/N shook her head, her hand gently reaching for his. “I never forgot you, Jihoon. I always wondered what happened to you. But I guess I just thought you were too busy to even remember me.”

Jihoon’s chest tightened at her words. “Noona, I never forgot you. I could never forget you.”

There was a long pause as they both stood there, the years of silence between them suddenly feeling very heavy. But as Jihoon looked into her eyes, he realized that despite everything that had changed, some things remained the same. The bond they shared, the connection they had, it was still there, still burning bright beneath the surface.

“I was hoping… maybe we could catch up?" Jihoon said.

Y/N smiled warmly, her eyes lighting up. “I’d like that. I’ve missed you, Jihoon.”

Jihoon’s heart raced as he nodded. “I’ve missed you too, noona.”

Over the next few weeks, Jihoon and Y/N reconnected. They spent time reminiscing about their school days, about the late-night talks, the shared dreams, and the small moments that had meant so much.

Y/N told Jihoon about her journey into music, about how she had struggled and worked her way up to become a pianist in the musical. Jihoon shared his own story, about the hardships of being a trainee, the sacrifices he had made, and the loneliness that often came with fame.

Through it all, they never once lost the connection they had.

One evening, after another performance, Jihoon walked Y/N back to her apartment. As they stood outside the door, Jihoon hesitated before speaking.

“Noona…” he began, his voice tentative.

Y/N looked at him, her gaze soft. “What is it, Jihoon?”

“I don’t know what the future holds, but I know this—” He took a deep breath, his heart racing. “I want you to be a part of it. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her heart fluttering in her chest. She smiled, her hand gently resting on his. “You won’t lose me, Jihoon.”

Weeks passed since Jihoon and Y/N reconnected. Their lives had been different since their youth, but some things never changed—the way they talked for hours without getting bored, the way they understood each other without needing to say much. The connection they once shared had only grown stronger, and now that they were both pursuing their dreams, it felt like fate had brought them back together.

One day, Jihoon invited Y/N to visit his studio. It had been a while since they had spent time in private, just the two of them.

Y/N arrived in the afternoon, and as soon as she stepped into the studio, she was greeted by the familiar hum of creativity. There were soundboards, microphones, and instruments everywhere. She could smell the faint scent of coffee in the air and the sound of a few tracks playing softly in the background.

“Wow,” she whispered, looking around in awe. “This is incredible.”

Jihoon grinned, proud of the space he had helped create. “It’s not much, but it’s home. For now, anyway.”

Y/N laughed, sitting down on the leather couch against the wall. “This is amazing, Jihoon. I can see how hard you’ve worked to get here.”

Jihoon sat beside her, his gaze thoughtful. “It’s a lot more work than I ever expected. Some days, it’s easy to forget what I’m even working for.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression soft and understanding. “I get it. It’s hard when your dream becomes your reality, and it feels like you’re just moving from one task to the next. But I know you’re doing this because you love it. I can see that in every note you play, every song you write.”

Jihoon looked at her, the sincerity in her voice touching him more than words could express. “Thanks, noona.”

After a while, Y/N stood up and walked toward the grand piano in the corner of the room. Jihoon had made sure it was a perfect space for creativity, and now, it seemed like the right moment for her to play.

“Do you mind if I play for a bit?” Y/N asked, her voice soft as she approached the piano.

Jihoon shook his head, a smile on his face. “Of course not. This is your space too.”

Y/N sat down at the piano, her fingers hovering over the keys before she began to play a soft, intricate melody. The music filled the room, and Jihoon stood, mesmerized by the way her hands moved across the keys with effortless grace.

The piece she played was familiar to him, one she had often played back when they were younger. He smiled as the sound brought back so many memories—the late nights at their school, playing together and dreaming of the future.

“This one,” Jihoon murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I remember this.”

Y/N smiled as she finished the piece, her fingers slowly coming to a stop. “You always loved this one. We played it together when we were younger.”

Jihoon nodded, his heart full as he sat beside her. “It feels like no time has passed. Your playing... it’s like you never stopped.”

Y/N’s smile softened, a touch of sadness in her eyes. “I didn’t stop. I just... took a different path. But music is still with me. It always will be.”

Jihoon’s gaze lingered on her, the quiet weight of their shared history filling the space. “I’ve missed hearing you play.”

Y/N chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve missed playing for someone who understands.”

They sat together for a while, talking about the past and sharing their experiences. Y/N told Jihoon about her journey, the challenges of becoming a professional pianist in a competitive world, and how she had found herself in the world of musicals. Jihoon shared his own story, about the years of hard work and struggles as a trainee, the sacrifices he had made to make it this far, and the loneliness that often came with being in the spotlight.

Later, Jihoon decided to show Y/N some of his work. “Do you want to hear some of my recent songs?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Of course. I’d love to.”

Jihoon sat at the piano, playing the melody of one of the songs he’d written. Y/N listened intently, her fingers tapping the rhythm against her knee.

“You’re really good at this, Jihoon,” Y/N said after the song ended. “You’ve come a long way since we were kids.”

Jihoon smiled, though his thoughts were a bit more complicated. “You were always my inspiration, noona. I don’t think I’d be here if it weren’t for you.”

Y/N’s smile faltered slightly, but she didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she leaned back and looked at Jihoon thoughtfully. “I’m proud of you, Jihoon. You’ve made it, even when things got tough. I’m happy we reconnected. I’ve always wanted the best for you.”

Jihoon’s chest tightened at her words, and he looked at her, his gaze soft. “I’m glad we found each other again.”

The evening eventually came to an end, and Y/N stood to leave, the night air cooling as she prepared to go back to her own busy life.

“Thanks for coming today, noona,” Jihoon said quietly.

Y/N smiled warmly. “Anytime. I’ll always be here when you need me, Jihoon. I’m proud of you, you know?”

Jihoon smiled back, though his heart felt a little heavy. “I’m proud of you too, noona. I’ve missed you.”

As Y/N stepped out into the night, Jihoon stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching her disappear into the distance. He felt a sense of peace settle over him. They were both walking their own paths now, but they had found each other again. And that was all that mattered.

Jihoon couldn’t shake the feeling that their reconnection was only the beginning of something more. Days turned into weeks, and although both of their schedules were packed, they made an effort to keep in touch. Texts, late-night calls, and the occasional lunch break together kept their bond alive.

One afternoon, Jihoon found himself scrolling through his phone, looking at the messages he’d exchanged with Y/N. Her encouragement lingered in his mind, and he realized he hadn’t seen her perform since the day they met again at the musical show.

He texted her on impulse:

Jihoon:

Noona, when’s your next performance?

It didn’t take long for a reply to come through.

Y/N:

This Saturday. It’s a small recital for a local charity event. Why?

Jihoon:

Can I come?

Her response came after a pause, but it was filled with warmth:

Y/N:

Of course. I’d love for you to be there.

Saturday evening, Jihoon arrived at the venue, a cozy yet elegant hall filled with an intimate crowd. He wore a mask and cap to avoid drawing attention, but even so, a few fans recognized him and whispered excitedly. He slipped into a seat near the back, his heart racing slightly as he waited for Y/N to take the stage.

When she finally appeared, Jihoon felt his breath catch. She looked calm and radiant, her confidence shining through as she walked to the grand piano at center stage. She bowed to the audience before sitting down, her fingers poised over the keys.

The music began softly, a gentle, melancholic melody that filled the room. Jihoon could see her expression as she played, completely absorbed in the moment. Her emotions poured into each note, and he couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of admiration for her.

As the final chord echoed through the hall, the audience erupted in applause. Jihoon clapped as well, his hands stinging from the force. He was proud—prouder than words could express.

Jihoon waited for the crowd to disperse before heading backstage. He found Y/N chatting with a few other performers, her smile warm and genuine as she thanked them for their kind words.

When her eyes met Jihoon’s, her face lit up. “Jihoon!”

She excused herself and walked over to him. “You came.”

“Of course,” Jihoon said, his voice soft. “You were amazing, noona. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Y/N laughed, a hint of embarrassment in her expression. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

Jihoon hesitated for a moment before pulling out a small bouquet of flowers he had been hiding behind his back. “These are for you. You deserve it.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Jihoon, you didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted, his voice firm but kind. “You’ve always supported me. It’s my turn now.”

Y/N took the bouquet, her fingers brushing against his. “Thank you,” she said softly. “This really means a lot.”

The following week, Y/N visited Jihoon’s studio again, this time bringing her own sheet music.

“I thought we could try something new,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ve been working on this piece, and I’d love your input.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You want me to help?”

“You’re a genius when it comes to music,” Y/N replied, her tone playful. “Who better to collaborate with?”

They spent hours in the studio, blending her piano compositions with Jihoon’s production expertise. The room buzzed with creative energy as they worked together, bouncing ideas off each other and experimenting with different sounds.

At one point, Jihoon paused and looked at her. “This feels like old times, doesn’t it?”

Y/N smiled, her hands resting on the piano keys. “It does. I never thought we’d get to do this again.”

Jihoon nodded, his gaze softening. “I’m glad we found our way back to this. Back to each other.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she looked down, her voice barely above a whisper. “Me too.”

As the evening turned into night, Y/N prepared to leave, but before she could step out the door, Jihoon stopped her.

“Noona,” he said, his voice hesitant but determined.

She turned to face him, curiosity in her eyes. “Yes?”

“I know we’ve both been busy, and our lives are complicated, but…” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to lose touch with you again. Not ever.”

Y/N’s expression softened, and she stepped closer. “You won’t, Jihoon. I promise.”

He smiled, a sense of relief washing over him. “Good. Because having you here, in my life, it feels right.”

Y/N looked at him, her own emotions reflected in her gaze. “It feels right for me too.”

As they stood there, the silence between them spoke louder than words. Their journey had come full circle, and though they didn’t know what the future held, they knew they would face it together.

Hoshi couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. The moment he learned about Jihoon and Y/N reconnecting, he shared the news with the other Seventeen members. The group was thrilled, especially after hearing countless stories about Y/N from Jihoon during their trainee days.

“Wait, is this the Y/N noona?” Seungkwan asked, his eyes wide.

“The one he couldn’t stop talking about?” Vernon added, smirking.

Joshua leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Jihoon, why didn’t you tell us you met her again?”

Jihoon groaned, sinking into the couch in their dorm. “Because it’s none of your business.”

Hoshi clapped Jihoon on the back, grinning from ear to ear. “Come on, hyung, don’t be like that! We’re practically family. If she’s important to you, she’s important to us.”

Mingyu chimed in, “We have to meet her. No excuses.”

“No,” Jihoon said firmly, shaking his head. “She’s not ready for that kind of chaos.”

“Too bad,” Jeonghan said with a sly smile. “We’re making it happen.”

Jihoon had barely stepped into the studio the next day when he got a text from Hoshi:

Hoshi:

We’re on our way. Don’t freak out.

Jihoon’s heart sank. He immediately called Hoshi, but the call went unanswered. Moments later, a knock sounded at the studio door. Jihoon sighed, bracing himself as he opened it.

Hoshi stood there, grinning, with Y/N by his side. Behind them, half the members were peeking around the corner, trying to stay hidden but failing miserably.

“Hoshi…” Jihoon started, glaring at his friend.

“Surprise!” Hoshi said, pushing the door open wider. “Y/N noona, meet the family!”

Y/N laughed nervously, looking at Jihoon. “I guess I didn’t have a choice in this, huh?”

Jihoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, you didn’t. I didn’t either.”

Once inside, the introductions began. Y/N was polite and warm, but Jihoon couldn’t help but notice her slight nervousness as she met each member.

“Hi, I’m Seungkwan,” Seungkwan said, bowing dramatically. “I’ve heard so much about you. Jihoon hyung used to talk about you all the time.”

“Did not,” Jihoon muttered, earning chuckles from the group.

“Yes, you did!” Hoshi said, grinning. “You told us about how she used to cheer for you at baseball games and play piano for you when you were stressed.”

Y/N smiled at Jihoon. “You talked about me?”

Jihoon’s ears turned red, and he avoided her gaze. “It’s not like that. They’re exaggerating.”

Mingyu stepped forward, towering over both Jihoon and Y/N. “I’m Mingyu. It’s nice to finally meet you. We’ve all been curious about the legendary Y/N noona.”

“Legendary?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

Joshua chuckled. “In Jihoon’s words, you were his first inspiration.”

Jihoon groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Can we not do this right now?”

Y/N laughed softly, her nervousness easing as she saw Jihoon’s flustered reaction. “It’s okay, Jihoon. I’m flattered.”

The members quickly made themselves comfortable, and before long, the studio was filled with laughter and conversation. Y/N shared stories from her past with Jihoon, which the members eagerly soaked up.

“Wait, you were there for Jihoon’s first baseball game?” Dino asked, leaning forward with interest.

Y/N nodded. “I was. He struck out the first time he played, but by the end of the game, he hit a home run. I’ve never seen him look so proud.”

Jihoon sighed, his face flushed. “Can we not talk about that?”

“Why not?” Jeonghan teased. “It’s a great story!”

As the evening wore on, Y/N found herself growing more comfortable around the members. They were warm, funny, and clearly cared deeply for Jihoon. It made her happy to see him surrounded by people who supported him so wholeheartedly.

When the members finally decided to leave, Hoshi turned to Y/N with a mischievous grin. “Noona, you’re part of the family now. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Y/N laughed. “I’ll try not to be.”

After everyone left, the studio felt quieter, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Y/N and Jihoon sat together, the energy from earlier still lingering in the air.

“Sorry about them,” Jihoon said, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re a bit much.”

“They’re wonderful,” Y/N replied, her voice soft. “It’s clear they care about you a lot. You’re lucky to have them.”

Jihoon looked at her, his gaze thoughtful. “Yeah, I am. But... I’m luckier to have you back in my life.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed at his words, and she smiled. “I’m lucky too, Jihoon.”

They sat in silence for a while, the unspoken bond between them stronger than ever. Jihoon knew that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, he wouldn’t face them alone.

The weeks after Y/N’s first meeting with the Seventeen members were filled with an easy rhythm of shared time. Jihoon and Y/N grew closer, finding moments between their busy schedules to meet. She was even starting to get used to the members’ playful teasing whenever she visited their dorm or joined them at the studio.

One afternoon, Jihoon invited Y/N to his studio again, but this time, the space was quieter—just the two of them.

“Thanks for making time to come today, noona,” Jihoon said, setting down two cups of coffee on the small table.

Y/N smiled, brushing her fingers lightly over the keys of the studio’s piano. “Of course. You’ve been so busy lately, I thought you might’ve forgotten about me.”

Jihoon sat across from her, his expression earnest. “Never. I just... needed to find the right moment. There’s something I’ve been working on, and I want you to hear it.”

Jihoon walked over to his computer, pulling up a file on his production software. He hesitated for a moment before pressing play.

The room filled with a soft piano melody, layered with strings and gentle percussion. It was a piece unlike anything Y/N had heard from him before—introspective and filled with emotion. As the music played, Y/N felt the weight of each note, as if it was telling a story only Jihoon could share.

When the song ended, Y/N turned to Jihoon, her eyes wide. “Jihoon, that was... beautiful. It felt so personal.”

Jihoon nodded, his gaze fixed on the screen. “It is. I wrote it for someone who means a lot to me.”

Y/N tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her expression. “Who?”

Jihoon turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers. “You.”

Y/N’s breath caught, and for a moment, the room felt still. “Me?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jihoon nodded, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. “You’ve been such an important part of my life, even when we weren’t in touch. I never stopped thinking about you, noona. Writing this was my way of expressing everything I couldn’t say before.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart full as she absorbed his words. “Jihoon... I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jihoon said quickly, his cheeks flushing. “I just wanted you to know.”

Y/N smiled, reaching out to place a hand on his. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. And... it means more to me than I can put into words.”

Not long after, Y/N found herself visiting Seventeen’s dorm again, this time at Jihoon’s invitation. The members were ecstatic to see her, greeting her with the same enthusiasm as before.

“Noona!” Hoshi exclaimed, practically bounding toward her. “You’re back!”

“You’re braver than I thought,” Jeonghan teased, smirking. “Coming here willingly.”

Y/N laughed, the warmth of their welcome making her feel at ease. “I couldn’t say no. Jihoon insisted.”

“Hyung, insisting? That’s a first,” Dino joked, earning a playful glare from Jihoon.

As the evening went on, the members bombarded Y/N with questions.

“Did you know Jihoon was this grumpy when he was younger?” Mingyu asked, leaning forward eagerly.

“Was he always this short?” Seungkwan added, causing an uproar of laughter.

Y/N chuckled, glancing at Jihoon, who was now sitting with his arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. “He wasn’t grumpy. He was focused. And for the record, he was taller than most kids his age back then.”

“Thank you,” Jihoon muttered, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement.

“But,” Y/N added, smirking, “he’s always had that little frown when he’s annoyed. It’s adorable.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Jihoon groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Why did I even invite you here?”

As the night wound down, Y/N and Jihoon found themselves alone in the kitchen while the rest of the members watched a movie in the living room.

“Did they overwhelm you?” Jihoon asked, handing her a glass of water.

Y/N smiled, leaning against the counter. “Not at all. They’re wonderful, Jihoon. It’s clear how much they care about you.”

Jihoon looked at her, his gaze soft. “They’re like my second family. But... having you here feels different. It feels right.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed at his words, and she looked down at her glass. “I feel the same way.”

Jihoon hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. “Noona, I know we’re both busy, and I know our lives aren’t simple, but... I want us to figure this out. I want you to be a part of my life, not just as my past, but as my present and future too.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “Are you sure, Jihoon? This isn’t going to be easy.”

“I’m sure,” Jihoon said, his voice steady. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

A small smile spread across Y/N’s lips, and she nodded. “Okay. Let’s figure it out together.”

Jihoon’s heart swelled at her words, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a sense of peace.

It was late in the evening when Jihoon and Y/N found themselves in his studio again. The familiar hum of equipment and the soft glow of the computer screen filled the room. Jihoon had invited her over under the pretense of showing her a new song, but as she sat across from him, engrossed in the notes spread on the piano, his heart raced.

“Noona,” Jihoon said, his voice quieter than usual.

Y/N looked up, tilting her head. “What’s wrong, Jihoon?”

He hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with a pen. “There’s something I need to say. Something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while.”

Y/N’s expression softened, and she set down the sheet music. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Jihoon took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I’ve liked you for a long time. Since we were kids, actually. Back then, I didn’t understand it, but now I do. You’ve always been someone special to me, noona.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. “Jihoon…”

“I know our lives are complicated,” Jihoon continued, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. “But I couldn’t keep this to myself anymore. I like you—not as a childhood friend, but as someone I want to be with.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the equipment. Then, Y/N stood and walked over to him.

“Jihoon,” she said softly, her voice trembling just slightly. “I’ve always cared about you, too. And honestly, I’ve been scared to admit it. But... I like you too.”

Jihoon’s eyes widened, and before he could process her words, she leaned down and kissed him. It was soft and tentative, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

When they pulled away, Jihoon’s cheeks were flushed, but he couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips.

“Does this mean you’ll give us a chance?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, her own smile mirroring his. “Yes, Jihoon. I will.”

It didn’t take long for the news to spread, thanks to Hoshi’s impeccable talent for eavesdropping.

The next morning, Jihoon walked into the dorm’s common room to find all twelve members waiting for him, their faces a mix of curiosity and mischief.

“Hyung!” Seungkwan exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You kissed her, didn’t you?”

Jihoon froze mid-step, his ears turning red. “How... How do you know that?”

“Hoshi hyung told us,” Vernon said nonchalantly, smirking.

Jihoon turned to Hoshi, who was grinning from ear to ear. “You couldn’t keep it to yourself, could you?”

“I have no regrets,” Hoshi said, laughing. “This is the best thing to happen in months!”

Jeonghan leaned back on the couch, a sly smile on his face. “So, Jihoon, when are you bringing her over again? We need to congratulate her for putting up with you.”

“Yah!” Jihoon snapped, his embarrassment reaching new heights. “Can you all not make this a big deal?”

“It is a big deal,” Mingyu chimed in. “Our stoic producer hyung has a love life! This is historic.”

Joshua patted Jihoon’s shoulder, his tone more sincere. “We’re happy for you, Jihoon. Really. You deserve this.”

Jihoon sighed, his initial annoyance fading. Despite their teasing, he could see the genuine happiness in their expressions. “Thanks, I guess. But can you all promise not to scare her off the next time she visits?”

“No promises,” Dino said, grinning.

As the members burst into laughter, Jihoon couldn’t help but smile. Their antics might drive him crazy, but deep down, he was grateful to have them by his side.

A week later, Jihoon invited Y/N to the dorm for dinner. Despite his warnings, the members were already on high alert, eager to see her again and, more importantly, to tease Jihoon mercilessly.

“Do you think they’ve kissed again?” Seungkwan whispered loudly as they set the table.

“I bet they have,” Mingyu said with a smirk.

“Ten bucks says Jihoon will get flustered if we even hint at it,” Vernon added, leaning against the counter.

“Guys, focus,” Jeonghan said, though his mischievous grin betrayed his intent. “We need to play this smart.”

Meanwhile, Jihoon and Y/N arrived at the dorm. Jihoon gave her a reassuring look as he opened the door.

“Don’t let them intimidate you,” Jihoon said softly.

Y/N laughed. “I think I can handle it.”

The evening started off relatively tame. The members greeted Y/N warmly, though their excitement was palpable. Over dinner, they chatted about everything from music to childhood stories, most of which involved Jihoon.

“Did you know Jihoon hyung used to eat instant noodles for every meal during trainee days?” Dino said, grinning.

Y/N raised an eyebrow at Jihoon. “Really?”

Jihoon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do you all insist on embarrassing me?”

“It’s our duty,” Hoshi said, laughing.

As the meal continued, the members kept sneaking glances at Jihoon and Y/N, exchanging knowing looks whenever the two shared a private smile or laugh.

After dinner, Y/N and Jihoon retreated to the balcony for a moment of peace. The evening air was cool, and the city lights twinkled in the distance.

“This is nice,” Y/N said, leaning on the railing.

Jihoon nodded, standing close beside her. “Yeah, it is.”

He hesitated for a moment before leaning in to kiss her. It was soft and brief, but before they could pull away, the sound of stifled laughter made them freeze.

They turned to find half the members huddled at the door, their faces pressed against the glass.

“Oh my gosh!” Seungkwan exclaimed, throwing the door open. “We caught them!”

Jihoon groaned, stepping back from Y/N. “Do you guys have no boundaries?”

“Nope,” Mingyu said, grinning. “This is way too entertaining.”

“You guys looked like a scene from a drama,” Jeonghan added, dramatically clasping his hands over his chest.

“Hyung,” Dino said, pretending to wipe a tear. “You’re growing up so fast.”

“Leave us alone,” Jihoon muttered, his face bright red.

Back inside, the members didn’t let up.

“So, Jihoon,” Joshua said with a sly smile, “how long have you been sneaking kisses behind our backs?”

“Yeah,” Hoshi chimed in. “And why didn’t you tell us? We’re supposed to be your brothers!”

Jihoon crossed his arms, glaring at them. “Because it’s none of your business.”

“Hyung, come on,” Seungkwan said. “You’ve got to give us something. Were you always this romantic, or is this new?”

“I’m not romantic,” Jihoon snapped, his embarrassment only fueling their teasing.

Y/N, meanwhile, couldn’t stop laughing. “You guys really don’t let up, do you?”

“Not when it comes to Jihoon hyung,” Vernon said, smirking.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Jihoon said, standing up. “If you’re all going to act like children, Y/N and I are leaving.”

“No!” Dino said, grabbing Y/N’s hand dramatically. “Noona, don’t go! We promise to behave!”

Y/N smiled, patting his hand. “I think I’ll be back soon enough. But for now, I should probably let Jihoon calm down.”

As Jihoon walked Y/N to the door, he sighed. “Sorry about them. They’re impossible.”

Y/N smiled, slipping her hand into his. “Don’t apologize. They’re wonderful. I’m glad you have them.”

Jihoon looked at her, his expression softening. “Still, I’ll make sure they behave next time.”

“Next time?” Y/N teased.

Jihoon smiled. “Yeah. Next time.”

As she left, Jihoon returned to the living room, where the members were waiting with smug grins.

“Don’t say a word,” Jihoon warned, though his expression held a hint of a smile.

The members burst into laughter, their teasing filling the room once more.

A week after the chaos of dinner at the dorm, Y/N visited Jihoon at the studio again. This time, the atmosphere was quiet and calm—just the two of them. Jihoon had asked her to help him with a melody he was struggling to finish, knowing her insight as a pianist would be invaluable.

“You know,” Y/N said, sitting at the piano in the corner, “I never thought I’d be working on music with you like this. It feels... surreal.”

Jihoon leaned against the desk, a small smile on his face. “I’ve always wanted to share this part of my life with you, noona. It just took me a while to get here.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes warm. “I’m glad you did.”

As she played a soft tune on the piano, Jihoon watched her intently. Her presence in the studio felt natural, like she belonged there.

Just as they were starting to settle into the work, the studio door burst open, and Seungkwan, Mingyu, and Hoshi walked in with bright smiles.

“Hyung, we brought food—” Seungkwan started, but then froze when he saw Y/N. His grin widened. “Oh, noona’s here!”

Jihoon groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Why are you guys here?”

“We thought you’d be lonely,” Mingyu said, setting a bag of takeout on the desk. “But clearly, you’re not.”

Hoshi smirked, nudging Jihoon playfully. “We didn’t know you’d have such nice company.”

Y/N laughed, standing up to greet them. “It’s nice to see you all again.”

“You too, noona,” Hoshi said, then turned to Jihoon. “Were you two working or—?”

“We were working,” Jihoon cut in, glaring at him.

“Sure you were,” Seungkwan teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

As the afternoon went on, the members insisted on staying, claiming they wanted to “supervise” Jihoon’s work. They lounged around, occasionally offering unsolicited opinions on the music and cracking jokes at Jihoon’s expense.

At one point, Jihoon leaned over to show Y/N something on the piano. She laughed at a joke he made, and instinctively, Jihoon reached out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

The moment was subtle, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh my gosh, did you see that?” Seungkwan whispered loudly to Mingyu.

“Totally,” Mingyu whispered back, though his voice was anything but quiet.

“Hyung, stop being so romantic in front of us!” Hoshi exclaimed, dramatically shielding his eyes.

Jihoon sighed, straightening up. “Do you guys ever stop?”

“Nope,” Seungkwan said, grinning. “This is our entertainment.”

Later, when the members finally started packing up to leave, Jihoon walked Y/N to the door. Thinking they were finally alone, Jihoon leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.

“Thanks for coming, noona,” he said softly.

Y/N smiled, her cheeks flushing. “Anytime.”

But before they could step apart, a loud gasp came from behind them.

“You’re doing it again!” Hoshi shouted, pointing at them.

The rest of the members rushed over, their expressions a mix of shock and glee.

“Hyung! In the studio?!” Mingyu said, feigning scandal.

“I can’t believe this,” Seungkwan said, clutching his chest dramatically. “Right in front of our takeout bag!”

Jihoon groaned, his ears turning red. “Can you all leave already?”

“No way,” Jeonghan said, grinning. “This is gold. Noona, you’ve really softened our Jihoon.”

Y/N laughed, covering her face with her hands. “You guys are impossible.”

“And you still like him?” Vernon teased.

“Don’t scare her off,” Jihoon muttered, shoving Hoshi lightly toward the door.

When the members finally left, Jihoon sighed in relief, turning back to Y/N. “I’m sorry about them.”

Y/N smiled, stepping closer to him. “Don’t be. I think it’s sweet how much they care about you.”

Jihoon softened, his usual stoic expression giving way to a small, genuine smile. “They’re lucky you think that. Otherwise, I’d never hear the end of it.”

Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around him briefly. “I’ll see you soon, Jihoon. And next time, I’ll bring snacks for everyone.”

Jihoon watched her leave, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Despite the chaos, he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

As more fans became aware of Jihoon and Y/N’s relationship, the reactions grew increasingly varied. While many Carats supported Jihoon’s happiness, there were vocal detractors who scrutinized Y/N’s every move.

One evening, Y/N scrolled through social media, coming across both kind messages and a few harsh comments.

“Why her?”

“She’s not even that famous.”

“He seems happier, so I guess it’s okay.”

Though the positive comments outweighed the negative, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the sting of criticism. She closed her phone and leaned back, staring at the ceiling of her apartment.

Jihoon, sensing her mood during their usual phone call, asked, “Noona, is something wrong?”

Y/N hesitated before admitting, “Some of the comments... they’re a bit much.”

Jihoon’s voice softened. “I’m sorry, noona. I wish I could shield you from all of this.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Y/N said quickly. “I just… I don’t want to make things harder for you.”

“You could never do that,” Jihoon said firmly. “If anything, you make things better. Don’t ever doubt that, okay?”

Her heart warmed at his words. “Okay, Jihoon.”

The members, true to their word, found ways to show their support for Jihoon and Y/N. During live broadcasts, Seungkwan and Mingyu casually mentioned how “nice” it was to see Jihoon smiling more often.

Hoshi, on the other hand, was less subtle. In a recent behind-the-scenes video, he joked, “Jihoon-hyung has someone special cheering him on these days. It’s no wonder his melodies are even sweeter!”

Carats quickly picked up on these moments, and the majority of fans began rallying around the idea of Jihoon’s happiness being their priority.

To escape the pressures of public scrutiny, Jihoon planned a quiet getaway for himself and Y/N. They drove to a small countryside village near their hometown, where they could relax without worrying about being recognized.

The day was filled with simple joys—walking along quiet paths, visiting small cafes, and sitting by a riverbank as Y/N played a soft tune on her piano app.

“You really love the piano, don’t you?” Jihoon asked, watching her.

“It’s always been a part of me,” Y/N said. “Kind of like how music is for you.”

Jihoon nodded, leaning back on his elbows. “You’re part of my music now, noona. You inspire me.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed. “Stop saying things like that, Jihoon. You’ll make me cry.”

Jihoon chuckled, reaching out to hold her hand. “It’s the truth.”

As time passed, Y/N and Jihoon decided to make their relationship more public. They attended a charity event together, where Y/N performed as the opening act, playing a stunning piano solo.

Jihoon watched her from the sidelines, his heart swelling with pride. When she finished, the audience erupted into applause, and Jihoon was among the loudest to cheer.

Afterward, a few fans approached them cautiously.

“Jihoon oppa, Y/N unnie is amazing!” one fan said shyly.

“Thank you,” Jihoon said, smiling warmly. “She really is.”

Y/N, though initially nervous, found herself relaxing as fans expressed their support.

“We just want you to be happy,” another fan said.

Y/N glanced at Jihoon, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you. That means so much to both of us.”

Back in the studio, Y/N became a frequent visitor. Though she usually stayed in the background, Jihoon would often ask for her input on melodies or lyrics.

One day, while working on a particularly emotional ballad, Jihoon turned to Y/N. “This song... it’s about us.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Jihoon nodded. “It’s about finding someone who feels like home. That’s what you are to me, noona.”

Y/N smiled, tears brimming in her eyes. “You have no idea how much that means to me, Jihoon.”

During one of her visits to the studio, Y/N stayed late as Jihoon finished mixing a track. When he finally leaned back in his chair, exhausted but satisfied, Y/N walked over to congratulate him.

“You’ve worked so hard,” she said, brushing his hair back.

Jihoon smiled, pulling her into a gentle kiss.

Just as they pulled away, the studio door burst open, and Seungkwan, Hoshi, and Mingyu stood there, frozen in shock.

“AGAIN?!” Seungkwan exclaimed.

Jihoon groaned, his hand covering his face. “Can you guys knock?”

“No way,” Hoshi said, laughing. “This is too good.”

“I’m telling the others,” Mingyu said, pulling out his phone.

“Don’t you dare,” Jihoon said, standing up to chase him.

Y/N, meanwhile, couldn’t stop laughing. “You’ll never get a moment of peace, will you?”

Jihoon sighed but smiled, wrapping an arm around her. “Probably not. But as long as you I don't mind"

As their first anniversary approached, Jihoon found himself brainstorming ways to make it unforgettable. He wanted to show Y/N just how much she meant to him.

“Hyung,” Mingyu said one evening as Jihoon sat in the dorm’s living room, jotting down ideas. “You’re stressing out too much. It’s an anniversary, not a world tour.”

“It’s not just an anniversary,” Jihoon replied, frowning at his notebook. “It’s the anniversary. I want it to be perfect.”

Seungkwan, who was lounging nearby, chimed in. “Just be yourself, hyung. Noona already loves you. You don’t need fireworks—although, if you want fireworks, I know a guy.”

Jihoon sighed. “I’ll figure it out.”

Little did Jihoon know, Y/N was also planning something special. She knew how much music meant to him, so she composed a short piano piece inspired by their journey together. It was her way of expressing everything she felt but couldn’t always put into words.

On the day of their anniversary, Y/N arrived at Jihoon’s studio carrying a small gift bag and a folder of sheet music. She was nervous but excited.

“Happy anniversary, Jihoon,” she said, smiling as she handed him the bag.

Jihoon opened it to find a simple but elegant bracelet engraved with the words: You’re my melody.

“Noona,” Jihoon said, his voice soft. “This is perfect.”

“There’s more,” Y/N said, her cheeks flushing. She handed him the folder. “I wrote this for you.”

Jihoon stared at the sheet music, his eyes scanning the notes. “You wrote a song?”

Y/N nodded. “It’s not much, but—”

“It’s everything,” Jihoon interrupted, his voice filled with awe. “Thank you, noona.”

Later that evening, Jihoon took Y/N to a small, private restaurant he had rented out just for them. The room was decorated with fairy lights and candles, creating a warm, romantic atmosphere.

“This is amazing,” Y/N said, looking around in awe.

“It’s not much,” Jihoon said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I wanted you to feel special.”

Y/N smiled, taking his hand. “I always feel special with you, Jihoon.”

As they ate, Jihoon pulled out a small box. “I have something for you, too.”

Y/N opened the box to find a delicate silver necklace with a tiny pendant shaped like a piano.

“I thought it would remind you of how much you inspire me,” Jihoon said.

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears. “Jihoon, this is beautiful. Thank you.”

When Jihoon and Y/N returned to the dorm later that night, they were greeted by the members, who had planned a surprise party. The living room was decorated with balloons and banners, and a cake sat on the coffee table.

“Happy anniversary!” Hoshi exclaimed, pulling them into the room.

“You didn’t think we’d let you celebrate alone, did you?” Seungkwan added, grinning.

Y/N laughed, feeling overwhelmed by their kindness. “You guys are amazing.”

As the night went on, the members took turns teasing Jihoon about being romantic, sharing embarrassing stories, and welcoming Y/N further into their “family.”

Later, as the party wound down and the members dispersed, Jihoon and Y/N found themselves alone on the balcony. The city lights twinkled in the distance as Jihoon leaned against the railing, holding Y/N close.

“This year has been the best of my life,” Jihoon said softly. “Because of you.”

Y/N smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “I feel the same. I never imagined we’d end up here, but I’m so glad we did.”

Jihoon turned to her, his expression serious yet tender. “Noona, no matter what happens—no matter how crazy things get—I’ll always choose you.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining. “And I’ll always be here for you, Jihoon.”

As they shared a gentle kiss under the night sky, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they’d face them together.

[scoupsakakitty]

Can you do Hoshi x member of a 4th gen group please, y/n is younger than hoshi like 5 years, born in 2000s thank you!!

Five Years Apart | idol!Hoshi x idol!Reader | fluff

The sound of heels clicking against polished floors echoed down the narrow hallway. Y/N held her breath, clutching the edges of her oversized jacket, as her reflection flickered in the mirrors lining the walls. She had spent the last fifteen minutes pacing outside the rehearsal room, trying to gather enough courage to step inside.

Today wasn’t just any rehearsal. It was the day she’d be meeting Hoshi.

The Hoshi—the man whose performances had made her want to become an idol in the first place.

And now she was about to rehearse a special collaboration stage with him.

Five years. That’s how much older he was. In the industry, five years could feel like a lifetime. He debuted before she even finished middle school, and now here she was barely out of her teens trying not to look like a nervous wreck.

Before she could spiral any further, the door suddenly swung open.

“Ah—sorry!”

Y/N took a quick step back, nearly tripping as she looked up and froze.

Hoshi stood in the doorway, dressed in loose sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt, his hair slightly damp as if he’d just finished practicing. His sharp eyes softened as he took in her startled expression.

“Oh,” he said, his lips curving into a grin. “You must be Y/N.”

She nodded quickly, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “Y-Yes! I mean… yes, Hoshi-ssi.”

His grin widened. “No need to be so formal. Just call me Hoshi.”

“I—okay, Hoshi-ssi.”

He let out a laugh, the sound light and genuine. “Close enough. Come on, let’s get started.”

Y/N followed him inside, her heart pounding as the door clicked shut behind them.

———————————————————————————-

Rehearsals went smoother than Y/N had expected mostly because Hoshi made it impossible to stay nervous for long.

He cracked jokes whenever she messed up, showing her tips and tricks instead of scolding her. He treated her like an equal, even though he was miles ahead of her in experience.

But there were moments, moments when his hand would linger a second too long on her waist while fixing their formation, or when he’d lean in just a little closer to whisper instructions that sent her pulse racing.

She told herself it was just admiration. She’d grown up watching him perform, after all. Of course she’d be flustered.

But then there was the way he looked at her.

“You’re a quick learner,” he said one evening after practice, handing her a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” she replied, taking a sip to avoid meeting his gaze.

“You remind me of myself, actually,” he continued.

That made her look up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He leaned back against the mirror, arms crossed as he watched her. “I was like you when I started out young, eager, always pushing myself too hard.”

Her stomach flipped at the word young. There it was again that reminder of their age gap. Five years. It wasn’t huge, but it felt significant when she was barely in her twenties, and he was already an established star.

“I guess I still feel like I have to prove myself,” she admitted.

Hoshi tilted his head. “You don’t.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to prove anything. Not to me, not to anyone. You’re already good enough.”

Her breath caught. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, he reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

The gesture was so sudden, so intimate, that it sent a shiver down her spine.

“You’re going to be amazing out there,” he said softly, his voice steady but his eyes unreadable.

And just like that, he stepped back, leaving her heart racing and her thoughts spinning.

———————————————————————————-

It was the night before their performance, and Y/N couldn’t sleep.

She sat on the rooftop of the venue, wrapped in a jacket to block out the cool night air. The city lights stretched out beneath her, but her mind was stuck on rehearsal—on him.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

She turned at the sound of Hoshi’s voice and saw him stepping onto the rooftop, hands shoved into his pockets.

“I… yeah,” she admitted as he sat down beside her.

For a while, neither of them spoke. They just stared at the skyline, the silence oddly comforting.

Then Hoshi broke it.

“Do you think it’s weird?”

She looked at him. “What?”

“That I feel so…” He hesitated. “Drawn to you.”

Her heart stopped. “W-What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a small laugh. “Maybe it’s the way you remind me of myself, or how you keep surprising me every time we practice. But I look at you, and it’s like—I don’t know how to explain it.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “Hoshi, you’re—”

“Older?” He finished the sentence for her, his smile fading.

She nodded.

“Yeah, I know. Five years.” He looked down at his hands. “I thought about that too.”

She bit her lip, unsure what to say.

“But the thing is,” he continued, looking up at her, “it doesn’t feel like it matters when I’m with you.”

The air between them felt heavier, charged with something unspoken.

“I know it’s probably crazy,” he added, “but I needed you to know.”

Y/N’s pulse thundered in her ears. “It’s not crazy,” she whispered.

His eyes widened slightly. “No?”

She shook her head. “Not to me.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, he reached out and took her hand, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles.

“You make me feel like I’m starting over,” he murmured.

And just like that, the gap between them the years, the experience disappeared.

———————————————————————————-

The performance was over, but Y/N’s heart was still racing as if she were standing under the blinding stage lights. Applause and cheers echoed in her ears, but all she could focus on was him.

Hoshi stood just a few feet away, drenched in sweat but smiling brighter than the spotlights. He caught her gaze, and in that instant, the crowd disappeared.

“You did it,” he mouthed, his lips curling into that familiar grin.

Y/N felt her cheeks flush. She wanted to say something back, but before she could, their manager ushered her away toward her waiting group members.

Even surrounded by people, she felt the absence of his presence beside her.

Later that night, Y/N stood in the dimly lit hallway outside the dressing rooms, nervously twisting the fabric of her jacket. She wanted to see him needed to see him but doubts gnawed at her.

What if she had imagined everything? The looks, the lingering touches, the way his words had made her feel like she was the only person in the room?

Before she could turn and leave, the door opened, and there he was.

“Y/N?”

Her breath caught. “Hoshi.”

He leaned against the doorframe, his expression softening as he took her in. “You’re still here?”

“I… wanted to talk to you.”

“Me too.” He stepped out, letting the door close behind him. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

———————————————————————————-

The rooftop was quiet, just like the night before, but this time, the air felt heavier. Charged.

Hoshi leaned against the railing, his hands gripping the cold metal as he looked out over the glittering city.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he began, his voice steady but low. “About how I feel when I’m with you.”

Y/N swallowed, her heart pounding. “And what exactly do you feel?”

He turned to her then, his gaze intense. “Like I can’t stop thinking about you. Like every time I see you smile, it’s the best part of my day.”

Her breath hitched.

“But I keep asking myself if it’s fair. To you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re so young, Y/N. You’re just starting out, and I don’t want to hold you back.”

She stepped closer, her voice trembling but firm. “You’re not holding me back. If anything, you make me want to be better.”

Hoshi exhaled sharply, as if he’d been holding his breath. “You really mean that?”

She nodded. “I don’t care about the age gap. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I just…” She paused, searching for the right words. “I just want to be with you.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, suddenly, he closed the distance between them, his hands cupping her face as he looked down at her.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

“I want to be with you.”

And before she could say anything more, his lips were on hers.

The kiss was soft at first hesitant, as if testing the waters but it quickly deepened, years of tension and unspoken words pouring into that single moment.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other.

“I guess there’s no turning back now,” Hoshi murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek.

“Good,” Y/N whispered. “I don’t want to turn back.”

———————————————————————————-

[novvabee]

And They Were Roommates pt.3

Summary: Sirius gives you a ride

The whole morning was a rush, one big disastrous rush. It started with you jolting awake in a panic, your alarm on your phone didn’t go off. You quickly searched around for it and found that you hadn’t plugged it in to charge last night. Cursing you hastily plugged it in to at least get some charge before work.

You rushed to the bathroom, flipping on the shower and brushing your teeth while waiting for the water to warm up, which took a considerably long time due to James showering earlier. You jumped in, water still half cold, and showered in a frenzy, water surely flying everywhere in the bathroom. You jumped out, toweled off and wrapped it around your body before rushing back into your room. You would usually dress before going back into your room, being that the bathroom was down the hall, and you didn't want to run into any embarrassing situations like having one of the boys see you dripping wet without any clothes, but you had no time today.

In your room you looked for something to wear, settling on a long sleeve top and some jeans, throwing a jacket on top, and a plain pair of shoes. This would be fine for working all day, comfortable. You picked up your phone, reading that it was only at 5% charged. You groaned and texted Lily,

Cover for me, im gonna be late

She replied only moments later,

Im sick love, i wont be in either… how are you getting there?

You hadn’t thought that far ahead. Lily usually picked you up in the mornings, you were on the way. But now… you don't have a car. You unplugged your phone and shoved it in your pocket, making your way downstairs. Maybe you can catch the train, it’ll pop you out a few blocks away but… maybe the bus? You were going to be so late, you started accepting that you were going to be fired.

Reaching the last step, you see Remus and Sirius lounging on the big, comfy couch. Remus reading a book and Sirius reading a magazine, legs entangled with each other. They looked quite at ease, until they noticed that you had entered. Sirius immediately removed his legs from Remus’s and sat correctly on the couch. You didn’t note the slight panic and red tint on their faces. “Oh, hi boys, um I’m running super late.” you said nearly out of breath. “I overslept.”

“Is there anything we can do?” asked Remus.

“Uh… Do you think the train or the bus would be faster? I think if I can minimize how late I am I may be able to salvage my job.” You joked. The boys didn’t quite laugh.

“What?” Sirius asked.

“I mean, which one is faster? Do you know?”

The boys looked at each other, then back at you. “You're not taking the bus. Nor the train, both are gross.” Remus said

It was your turn to laugh now. “But I have to, I have work and I am already really late and-”

“I’ll take you.” Sirius interrupted. You just blinked.

“No! That’s ok, you two looked comfortable there, I just need-”

“It’s not a problem darling, besides I was just telling Remus that we needed batteries. I was going to head out anyway.” Sirius tried to persuade you.

You were desperate. And you didn’t like to deny the boys when they were so generous. And you really needed this job. “Ok…” you said meekly.

Sirius beamed at you and ran up to his room, likely to grab his keys. You smiled after him. “Don’t let him drive too fast, he has a habit of being a bit reckless.” Remus commented to you now that Mr. Reckless was upstairs.

“I can’t make that promise.” you laughed together

“Alright!,” Sirius called, bounding down the stairs now in a leather jacket. “You warm enough? If not you can have mine” he said rushed. Before you could say bye to Remus, Sirius was grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you after him through the front door. You squealed as you practically ran to keep up with him. You didn’t know that Sirius had a car but it made sense, you pictured maybe a sporty car, probably red. Or black.

You didn't, however, picture a large black motorcycle. You stopped dead in your tracks as Sirius made for the bike and swung a leg over. He held out a hand, beckoning for you to do the same. You again, just blinked. “Sirius…” you started.

“Oh yeah!” he said as if realizing his mistake and grabbing his matching black helmet, handing it to you. “Come on love, I thought you said you were late.”

“Sirius I can’t get on that!” you protested

“Oh, I’ll help you on-”

“You didn't tell me you had a motorcycle! I thought you'd take me in a car.”

“I didn’t mention it? Huh…”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. You were desperate but a motorcycle…

“Come on love, I promise I’ll get you there in one piece. I’ll go slow.” he looked at you hopefully. “You can wear my helmet, you can tell me if I’m going too fast, and you can get off anytime you want, though I wouldn’t advise that because you need to get to work quickly.”

Desperate. The only way you’d get on the back of his bike. Desperation.

Taking Sirius’s hand and climbing on behind him, put the helmet on, and your arms around his waist. Squeezing tight. This made Sirius chuckle.

“I still have to be able to breathe, doll,” Sirius said while kicking off. You loosened your death grip but still held on.

Remus was right, Sirius had a habit of driving like a madman. More than a few times you had to yell at him to slow down or be safer. You could tell he was trying, for your sake, but you would hate to see how he normally drives. 

All in all, he did get you there alive, and very quickly. You thanked him and hopped off the bike. “See that wasn’t so bad was it?” he said to you with a smile. You laughed.

“How does my hair look? Ok?” you asked.

“You look gorgeous, love.” This made a noticeable heat rise to your face. “Do you need me to pick you up?”

You weighed your options again; bus, train, death machine with Sirius. You figured, anything could be made fun as long as it was with Sirius, death trap or not. So you nodded and smiled at the boy.

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