#i love this story and i hope my readers will come to love it too as it progresses

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

⋆ 𝓥𝓲𝓵 𝓢𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓮𝓷𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓽: 𝓛𝓲𝓹𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 ⋆

This is for @offorestsongs ♡ Thank you so much for being so kind when it comes to my Vil works! Your reblog of my last x Reader story featuring Vil made my day, and I appreciate it so much ♡ I hope you enjoy! ♡

⋆ Vil sits at his vanity, a box sitting beside him. A makeup brand he likes sent him a PR box of their latest product, a lipstick that's supposed to be stain and smudge proof. They sent him a variety of colors, from a light pink to a plum purple. So many shades to choose from, so many options. Just from the swatches alone he was already in love, thinking of outfits he could pair them with. First he has to test them though, to see if they truly are stain and smudge proof like they advertise. He could do it the traditional way, using a glass or a paper towel to see if it transfers. That was his original plan before he got a text from you, letting him know you were on your way. Now he has a better idea in mind, a small smile coming to his face as he awaits your arrival.

⋆ As soon as you entered his room he asks you to take a seat, gesturing towards his bed. You sit near the edge as you watch him through the vanity mirror, applying lipstick to his lips. The color he chose was a dark red, reminding you of wine. Once he's done he turns towards you, gesturing to his face as he asks for your thoughts. The color looked good on him, darker than what he would usually wear. He seems pleased by your response as he stands, walking over to you. He takes your hand, helping you up so you're standing in front of him. He looks you over, moving some pieces of hair out of your face with a smile.

"They say this lipstick is smudge proof, you know? Stain proof too. Let's test this theory, shall we?"

⋆ He cradles your face in his hands, holding it gently as he begins lavishing you in kisses. A gentle press to the shell of your ear, to your cheeks, to your forehead and nose. A quick kiss to your chin, Vil having you tilt your head as he kisses a trail down your neck. He saves your lips for last, kissing them gently before pulling you in deeper. He doesn't break it until you both need to catch your breath, leaning back so he can see his work. He feels disappointment shoot through him as he notices no marks on your skin, realizing the lipstick truly was smudge and stain proof.

⋆ I shouldn't be disappointed, he reminds himself, the lipstick doing exactly as advertised. Yet, he knows deep down, he wanted the lipstick to smudge. To stain your skin, marking you with every press of his lips. He clears his throat, getting your attention as he turns back to his vanity.

"I have a few more I need to test, so please bare with me. Give me a minute to remove this, and apply the next one."

⋆ If he grabs a lipstick from his bag that he knows does stain, instead of one from the PR box, well...you don't need to know that. If his kisses linger more this time, you don't say anything, waiting as he checks to make sure a mark was left before moving onto the next spot. Perhaps you should help him test his lipsticks more often, he couldn't help but think, watching as you turned into a work of art before his eyes.

It's a good thing I kept this lipstick, he thought, pressing his lips against yours and finishing his work. He leans back to look you over, pleased that he got the results he wanted this time.

"Beautiful" he says to himself, unable to resist pulling you in for one last kiss ♡

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

#♡.sheep writes #♡.twst #♡.vil schoenheit #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Faking It | Jeon Jungkook | Series Masterlist

Summary: Being divorced by the time you're thirty isn't the best feeling in the world but what happens when your parents find someone from your past that's in a similar boat? Pairing: f!reader (30) x Single Dad Jungkook (33) (Arranged Marriage Slow Burn?) Status: Ongoing Warnings: Troubles with conceiving/seeing pregnancies to full term, Jungkook's first wife passed away in childbirth. (These themes will be spoken about throughout the fic and I will add extra warnings when need be in future chapters) a/n: Okay this one is gonna be a long one (in terms of chapter length, idk how many parts there will be) I'm really really in love with this story line so I hope you'll come along this cute, silly, awkward, heartwarming and heartbreaking journey with me 🥰 p.s. I've been brainstorming with @kkusadmirer (ofc 🤭) about this fic for a while now and I've just fallen in love with these characters too much that I had to get at least one part out but it's gonna take me a while to get new chapters out since I'm gonna make them like twice as long as my usual ones but I hope you'll come to love this story as much as I do 🤭

Feel free to send drabble requests and asks as the story progresses

>Part 1 >Part...

Extra Content: Not written in chronological order with the storyline and will be updated as soon as I answer them (not all asks will be added to the list but you can find the rest under #faking it ask)

Asks: Ask 1

Character Asks: JK 1

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook #fanfic #fanfiction #kpop #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts #kpop fanfic #faking it #fi #jungkook bts #jungkook x reader #jungkook and you #jungkook and reader #jungkook x original character #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #slow burn #arranged marriage

[gay-dorito-dust]

scar with a gn! Reader that’s crazier then him :3 (headcanons please)

You probably caught a glimpse of him one day could feel this chaotic and intense energy about him, which would’ve been enough to have anyone making the smart decision to leave while they could.

for you however, it was more or less the opposite and it wasn’t long before you’d actively tried seeking him out, causing chaos and discord however you could just in the hopes of getting an audience with the man known as Scar.

You knew of the stories that have been told about him but you didn’t care and instead found something to bond with him over; wanting to watch everything go up in smoke as the fires blazed on well into the night.

Scar saw you both as kindred spirits, people who saw things as they really were whilst everyone else was more or less content with living in ignorant bliss.

If anyone were to call your love deranged or unstable, Scar would gladly destroy them in whatever ways he felt suited them best, as he went on a triad about how yours and his love was a genuine, one of a kind love that couldn’t be replicated because people didn’t have the same passion for destruction and desolation like you two did.

So in his eyes, anyone else’s definition of love was false in comparison to yours as yours stemmed from an obsession that bloomed from a simple glance.

Scar would preach whilst holding you close as a village burns to cinders that you were soulmates, two halves of the same soul that were forced to live separate lives because you were deemed too powerful of a force when together. so they had to rip you both apart while they could to preserve their definition of ‘peace.’

Your dates were…unique to say the least, such as participating in his experimentations and misleading good and well meaning people for fun and laughing when they come back a monstrosity of their own creation, as you’d let them believe.

You: would you burn everything for me? Would you even kill thousands for me my dearest Scar?

Scar: I’d do so and much, much more, charred corpses that would try to take you away from me, try to persuade you into leaving me or even exist within the same space as you will be used as an cautionary art piece; an example for everyone else that they’d too would suffer a similar fate made purely for our entertainment.

*he grabs at your face and leans in real close* they are merely mortals fooling themselves into thinking they’re smart enough to speak upon issues regarding those of a higher power and purpose. Do you hold me in the same regard, my desire?

You, leaning your forehead against his, looking deep into his eyes that were unusually soft in this moment: if I had it my way there’d be no one left alive to look at what’s mine. I’d rip out my own heart if I could to prove that it only beats for you and you could do whether you’d like with it for as long as you want. Cage it? Destroy it? Preserve it for all time always? My heart is yours to toy with.

You truly were a match made in a demented, morbid version of heaven.

Scar would probably test how much you love him by making you do the most morally questionable shit known to man, if you succeed, you’ve proven your love was genuine but if you failed, then he guesses you didn’t love him as much as you declared you did.

However once you’ve become scar’s, you were forfeiting your freedom in order to shape yourself into being the prefect lover for him, however that was the plan to being with wasn’t it?

#wuwa x reader #wuwa scar x reader #wuwa imagine #wuwa imagines #wuthering waves #wuwa #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves x you #Wuthering waves imagines #Wuthering waves imagine #scar x reader #scar imagines #scar imagine

[faetreides]

- # 🍁 THE NEMEAN LION !!

feels so ugly when i’m honest

cw: afab reader, ambiguous era, dubcon coded, insp. by this ask, patrick and reader have noncon somno fantasies about the other (so rlly it’s more cnc), patrick is gross and mean, situationship/roommate!patrick, unprotected p in v sex & relying on the pull out method, weed mention and wine mention, art guest star appearance (patrick mentions him), oral (afab reader receiving), hints of: foot fetish, dacryphilia, cnc in general, plus sized!reader, mythological themes, 3k words of me losing my marbles, one use of daddy, we don’t gotta be in love you knowweeeeee i don’t gotta be the oneeee you knowweeeeeeeeew

You’re making him crazy, Patrick knows it. He shouldn’t spend his mornings humping his pillows that you hold in your lap during movie nights. He definitely shouldn’t be stealing your panties and strangling his cock with the lacey fabric that’s going to end up smelling so foul from how much he’ll use the same pair over and over. He thinks he can catch your scent on his clothes when you’ve never actually been close enough to leave a reminder of you behind. Sometimes Patrick gets so frustrated with continuing at this same snail’s pace that he wishes he could just grab your face and smush it into his musky crotch. He’d let you go if you were about to pass out, maybe. You can’t get shit twisted if you’re unconscious.

He’s telling you another one of his stories, hoping to see a twinge of… something swirling in your irises. You just hum too much and squirm a bit, ever the overactive listener. Patrick would cut off his balls if it meant that he could hear anything resembling a moan from you, not just little signs that you’re listening and not speaking. The transformer movie’s reached a point where you don’t really have to pay attention, so you cutely shuffle your mess of blankets around on the couch so you can give Patrick your undivided attention. He’s had to start keeping space in his closet for the large throw blankets you bring along even though you refuse to let him turn the fan off.

“Yeah, I was with Art actually. We ate each other out back in the day, y’know, to see what it was like. He sat on my face and fuckin’ almost broke my neck, his thighs were gripping me so tight.” He coyly tilts his head to the side, pretending to be shy about the whole thing.

He narrows his eyes and analyzes your reaction. You dart your gaze around the room for a split second, struggling to tamper down the blossoming warmth in your stomach and the insecurity that comes with never being able to catch up with Patrick. You’ve confessed to it a couple times, usually after a couple of bottles of whatever cheap alchohol he’s got on hand. His nails shred into his palms with the effort it takes not to give you something to talk about, even if you think they’re only dreams.

“When was the first time someone ate you out? I can’t be the only one shoving my foot in my mouth here.”

God, what he’d give to have your feet in his mouth, and vice versa.

You play with the fluffy black blanket in your lap, making eye contact with one of the cartoon nutcrackers on it and not Patrick as you answer his question. “Oh… I’ve actually never been eaten out, maybe that’s why no one’s made me cum.”

It’s a like his world has been hit by an unexpected asteroid and blown to smithereens, bits of membrane and curdled dna scattered across the milky way. The gross-ness imbued in his bone marrow leaks out into vaccum of space as he processes this truly fucking suprising piece of information. Never in his life has Patrick been told something that just can’t be true, not when there are still good things in the world. Not when that helpful little tidbit will split him open and take over his every waking and sleeping thought.

He shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “What? What the hell do you mean no one’s ever eaten your pussy?”

“I, I don’t know. The people I've been with have just never gone out of their way to do it and I didn't make a big deal out of it.”

His heart’s breaking in half and you clearly have no idea. Patrick scrambles to sit up and grabs your hands to stop them from fiddling with the blanket anymore. There are a thousand things he wants and needs and just has to say but all he can do in the present moment is keep shaking his head and crowding you against the right arm of his tattered gray couch.

“Then they’re so fucking stupid, I can’t believe you don’t know what it feels like to have a tongue up your cunt.” He states, a firm declaration that has you throwing out a hand on his bicep to ground yourself.

Patrick looks crazed above you, dark hair impossibly soft and pupils steadily expanding outward. You slide your hand up his arm (trying to ignore the muscle there, what it’d be like when they flex as he picks you up by your ass) to place it on his firm chest. You open your mouth, trying to cobble together any kind of response you can think of but your mind is blank. Patrick seizes the opportunity and smahes his mouth against yours, when the clashing of your lips is over there’s more blood than spit. He flicks his tongue out to catch the little drops of blood dripping from your lips, moaning after he swallows each one.

You’re catching your breath, “You… you can’t… just do that.”

He rolls his eyes and grins, “I did. I can hear you through the walls at night you know? Rubbing your pussy on one of my pillows that you think I don't know you stole, crying for me.”

Damn, that’s what you get for making risky decisions while you’re ovulating. You knew you washed it and should’ve snuck in while he was out to throw it on his plaid comforter and act like it never happened. The longer you kept it stuffed between your plush thighs, smothering it in the natural scent of your pussy, the more your shyness grew. It was easier to spend your nights like that then explore the possibility of doing something else with your time, but now you’re just wishing that you hopped on Patrick’s stupidly huge dick while he was passed out and snoring and called it a day.

“I… I’m sorry, okay? You can have it back.” You say and keep the grumpiness out of your tone, having to come to terms with hoarding nothing that smells like him anymore.

“Just shut up and be happy, be good for me.” He punctuates it with a mean squeeze to your face, slowly sliding his hand down to hang around your throat and falling to his knees in front of the couch.

Maybe it’s the cheap white wine, maybe it’s the subpar edible you had earlier, but you throw caution to the wind and sink your fingers into Patrick’s hair. Your breath happily flies out of your lungs when he pushes your knees apart, coaxing your white lace panties off with his teeth. The bright lights from the TV cast a glow around him, and you hate how pretty he looks. Like if Hercules was a modern porn star, muscles rippling and eyes spearing through you as he catapults you to the stars.

The roughness of his fingers feels heavenly as he smooths them down your inner thighs, “Nice and fat pussy, dripping all over the place. Saying hi, right? It’d be rude of me to not say anything back.”

So he does, spitting right on your clit and spreading it all over your pussy. Patrick shuffles closer and takes several big lungfuls, humping the air with every whiff of your artificial body wash combined with your much more attractive musk. He opens his mouth wide and latches onto your soaking folds, flattening his tongue and licking broad stripes up your cunt. He laps up your juices sloppily, almost wagging his tongue wildly in an effort to suck up whatever he can.

There’s a coil forming in the pit of your stomach, winding tighter and tighter with every swipe of Patrick’s wet tongue. Your face flames in embarrassment once again, you don’t really know if you look bad from his point of view but you can’t stop yourself from throwing your head back against the couch and scrunching your face up. He gives your asshole an open mouthed kiss, half to tease you even further and half because he just couldn’t resist. It was glistening and winking at him and everything.

“Fuck! Fuck! That’s so- how are you so good at this?” You mewl, raking through his hair thoroughly like you’re searching for something you lost.

Patrick’s ego grows in size and he smiles as he moves to your clit, hollowing his cheeks and suckling rapidly. He buries his face in your pussy and drinks you down in several gulps, picking up speed when you resign yourself to telltale moans about much you need to cum. He flicks the tip of his tongue against your swollen clit and slows down right when you’re apart to fall over the edge. He actually chuckles into your mound and winks when you glare at him. He cuts off whatever bratty retort you armed yourself with by going back to nearly inhaling your clit without warning.

“Ungh- I really-really fucking hate you, but don’t you dare stop, I’ll kill you.”

Each suck sends pulses shooting up your core, and that scary coil in the depth of your guts tightens blissfully. You squirm, the very definition of a hot mess as you grind against his face. The friction was never enough but you keep corralling his nose into your pubic hair, fruitlessly rutting your hips with no end goal other than the urge to hump whatever’s available. You panic for a second that you’ll suffocate him or he’ll be grossed out by you not shaving, but you shouldn’t underestimate him. If anything, Patrick groans at the heady smell. Getting it straight from the source and fucking the air during his suckling.

His eyes never stray from you. Your agonized face straight out of a renaissance painting, too strung out and burning with pleasure to resemble anything normal. Your thick thighs, jiggling with every move you make, you can’t seem to decide between humping his mouth like a bitch in heat or trying to squeeze his head like a watermelon. Your sounds, wails and cries and moans and whines, he’ll have to record you next time, play it anytime and anywhere in case you misunderstand what this is. The first documentation of how much cum and fluid you can paint him in, whatever color or thickness you’ve got for him. He’ll wring it all out of you eventually, film a home movie series to chronicle every squirting session and the like.

Gun to his head, you taste like those old fashioned butterscotch hard candies. Decadent and sweet, if he could he’d sink his teeth into the slippery supple flesh and pull and rip.

After several rounds of cruel edging, your brain whites out so hard, you can almost form the blurry shapes in your peripheral vision into a red spiked tail and horned wings. Patrick’s ruining you entirely, you know that now, and the movie’s already over but you don’t spare the scrawling credits more than a weary glance. Your soul is probably cartoonishly swimming through the putrid air towards your body, but your sweaty body is shaking too much to receive it. There’s a ringing in your ears as you blink yourself into awareness, Patrick unbuckles his jeans and a blunt pressure stretches your hole out.

“Sorry, ‘m out of condoms, I’ll pull out, baby.” He huffs out, praying to whatever’s listening that he doesn’t just start pummeling your shit.

You feel your stomach bunching up before you see Patrick’s dick disappearing into you. The feeling of being split open on something so thick has you reeling, no one else you’ve been with has left you spiraling quite like this. In a room full of dicks you’d be able to spot his, you’d just have to find the one that has the back of your throat tingling and going dry just from a sniff and a look. You’d cry if he pulled out now, it’s already too late for you. This is such a stupid decision, sloppy rough sex with your roomate-turned-situationship on his worn out couch that’s older than the both of you combined.

It’s one hell of a story, and maybe some moments in life should be allowed to boil down to that. The hand loosely wrapped around your throat tightens its hold, you welcome the thumb pushing into your mouth without prompting. The depravity of it all makes you feel owned, has you seriously considering living your life as some guy’s exclusive pet whore. The ‘squelch’s and the ‘schlick’s that come with his savage thrusts and milk white strings connecting the base of his cock to your puffy pussy.

Every breath you think you’re going to be able to take, he steals from you and mocks your whimpery “unh-unh-unh~”’s in his raspy mid-fuck voice.

“This is the only dick you’ll be hanging off of from now on, got it? Can’t let some lousy jackass try to sew his balls to this pussy when it’s not even gonna cream around him.” You say yes to that hissed demand, yes of course, Daddy.

Patrick plunges his cock to the hilt into your cunt in one sharp stroke, gasping and gripping your hip to distract himself from the way your walls are clenching around his length. Every part of you is greedy apparently, you’re perfect for each other then. The position he has you in is so filthy, he’s standing and hosting your legs up over his shoulders, folding you in half on the couch. His dirty levi’s pool around his feet and the sound of his belt hitting the floor inspires awful thoughts in you. Your sweat mixes together and trickles down your legs, sticking to his leg hair.

You can have it soft once he’s gotten this demon off his back and out of his system, you can ride him while you’re cozied up in bed, lazily rolling your hips until you get tired a couple minutes later and clinging to the caresses on your love handles. Patrick has to destroy something before he can even stand to think about putting it back together, your insides and you yourself are no exception. Your walls feel like the finest quality silk around his throbbing cock, leaking inside of you as he clutches onto your ankles. The TV’s automatically shut off by now, and the lack of background noise enhances his animalistic grunts and deep moans.

“Gonna fuck your tits next time, fuck-what the fuck-you’re too damn tight, massage them for you after, rub your cunt raw-“

Patrick fucks like he’s staking claim on a spoil of war, you’re learning, as if the pale ferryman’s hot on his heels and this sliver of time is the only sacred thing he’ll ever get in his wretched mortal life. All his, gone limp between bloody jaws and killing hands. He snarls in your face as he pounds your pussy, angling his hips to stab deeper in you than should be medically possible. You don’t when you start tearing up, but Patrick does nothing to wipe away your tears, not even lick them up. He just fucks you to the point where you’re crying, shutting his eyes as he throws his head back so you can’t see that he’s crying too. The both of you borrow from different sources of emotion.

“You sounded so scared when you were cumming, made my balls twitch, was cute.” Patrick tells you in between messy kisses, more focused on almost eating your face than properly locking lips with you.

His tongue hangs out of his mouth as he abruptly yanks himself out of you and lavishes your belly in ropes after ropes of cum. You’d reach down to dip a finger in and taste it, but you’re too annoyed at the thought that he’s depriving you of an orgasm again. You haven’t even decided whether you’re going to pout or flatbout get up and leave when Patrick’s sliding home once more. You give him a punched out gasp, sort of pained and kind of relieved, in response. He hisses through his teeth, grinding them together like it’s burning the flesh on his cock to plunge back into your searing pussy. Actively breaking and remaking you. Both of your muscles tense up as the wave threatens to crash over you.

“You can cry some more, if you want, I'd like that a lot. Beg me to save you from what I’m doing to you, to this tight pussy.”

Happy or sad, doesn’t matter. He knows you like it when he keeps you from fighting back, you suit being manhandled and made to take dick better than anyone else he’s slummed it with.

He hunches his back forward to kiss you again, and you claw red stripes down it as your tongue maps out every inch of his mouth. He pulls back and you spend several seconds like that sharing breath. You don’t realize what you’re saying out loud, things like ‘Holy shit you’re so fucking big-so good-it’s so fucking good’ and ‘Feels better than i thought it would, how is that even possible?’ It’s like your own little sex obsessed podcast, centering every episode around how situationship dick is on another level and will irrevocably destroy you. Patrick chuckles, he can’t wait to hold every treasured compliment from you over your head. You could say you’re done with whatever this is when he leaves the toilet seat up again but he’ll never forget you howling for him and his cock to never leave you.

Patrick will swing himself over the net into overstimulation before the next time your pussy’s clamping down on his thick cock and spasming, but he’ll be damned if you’re not gonna end up passed out and drooling while the sun rises. You can spend future movie nights cockwarming him, if you can stand to endure the sickeningly perfect stretch without being allowed to get your cunt beat. You’re mewling when you froth the base of his dick again, your walls pulse around him like you’re a cat laving up your favorite cream. Tonight’s not the night where you’ll be getting it straight from the source, maybe when you’re willing to take certain risks. His smiles are the most genuine when you drag out your whine to follow the speed in which he pulls out to paint your body. Tangy ribbons hanging over your love handles and dripping down to your ass cheeks.

#patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #challengers x reader #challengers #challengers fanfiction #challengers smut #challengers movie #challengers film #challengers fic #challengers x you #challengers imagine #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig imagine #josh o’connor challengers #josh o’connor #josh o’connor x reader #patrick zweig challengers #josh o connor x you #josh o connor x reader #josh o connor #josh o’connor smut #⚰️.deaddove #ish #challengers 2024

[steves-sub]

Time for Action

Dark!Team Cap (Steve, Bucky, Sam, Natasha, Wanda) x innocent!female reader

Summary: The team's plan is finally going into action.

warning: Non-con drugging, hypnosis, deceiving people

A/N: I couldn't leave you hanging, so I'm back to finish the series. A lot has changed for me since I started this journey. I'm in a much better place now – happier, healthier, and pursuing my passion for special education. I also found love, which has greatly impacted my life. I may not be writing again anytime soon, but I'll always be grateful for the support of this community. These stories kept me going when things were tough, and I hope they bring you as much joy as you've brought me.

tags: @rihannabale @sideeve @apollosouls-blog @luvfromdixiedoll @chemtrails-club

The long-awaited day had finally come. After carefully applying your makeup and smoothing out your dress, you couldn't contain your excitement about spending time with Steve and his friends. To mark the occasion, you even wore a new dress - a lovely white sundress adorned with sunflowers, a charming nod to Steve's nickname.

As I heard a "ding" from my cell phone, I walked over to check it. To my surprise, it was a message from Steve saying, "Be there in 5 minutes." Despite my insistence on biking, Steve was determined to drive me. "You are a princess; you should be treated like one," he said with a smile. This level of care and consideration from a friend was something I had never experienced before.

As the sound of the car pulling up reached your ears, you gracefully descended the stairs, your luscious curls bouncing with each step. The scent of Steve's potent cologne wafted through the air as you closed the door behind you. Glancing back, you caught sight of him emerging from his car, clad in a crisp white button-down and navy pants. It seemed impossible, but your attraction to him intensified in that moment. As Steve made his way towards you, you could have sworn you heard a low growl escape him. "Wow, y/n, you truly are a sunflower. You look absolutely stunning, my darling," his words caused a rush of warmth to flood your cheeks."

“Thank you, Steve! I chose this dress specifically for this occasion. I hoped to leave a lasting impression on your friends." Steve enveloped you in a warm embrace, and as he did, you thought you felt his hand subtly moving towards your lower back, but before you could dwell on it, he gently pulled away. "Don't worry too much; I'm sure they will adore you, just like I do," he assured you with a playful touch on your nose, causing you to let out a spontaneous giggle. Steve gracefully circled around you and gallantly opened the door of his sleek black car, a vehicle worth more than your annual salary. "Step in, my princess. Your carriage awaits," he declared as he entered the vehicle himself and closed the door behind you.

As he settled into the driver's seat, he reached behind him and retrieved a water bottle. "The drive might take a while, so I brought you a water bottle," he said with a warm smile. You accepted the bottle, returning his smile, and twisted off the cap. The water had an unusual taste, but you didn't want to cause any inconvenience. Keeping your thoughts to yourself, you continued on your journey.

After half an hour of casual conversation with Steve, he steered onto a narrow dirt road. "It's just a short drive down this road, and then we'll be there," he reassured, gently taking your hand. "Don't worry, sunflower. I promise they will adore you," he repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time. Throughout the journey, Steve did his best to ease your nerves, chatting with you and offering you sips of that peculiar water. While you did start to feel more at ease, the anticipation still made you jittery. Finally, he pulled up to an exquisite house. "Wow," you marveled as you gazed out the window, "you guys live here?" You had little knowledge about Steve and never would have guessed that he was well-off. "Yeah," he chuckled, "my friends and I have been renovating this house for a while. It's our retirement plan." 

I turned to look at Steve, my face twisted in confusion. "Retirement plan? You're not even 40!" Steve chuckled once again at my comment. "Well, we all needed a break, so we decided to come up here for a bit," he spoke as he expertly parked the car in the circle driveway. "Are you ready?" he asked, extending his hand towards me. I took his hand in mine and squeezed it, replying, "Ready." He smiled back at me as he exited the car to open the door for me.

As the two of you approached the door, Steve reached out and turned the handle, allowing the door to swing open. "Hey guys, we're here!" he called out, his voice echoing through the seemingly empty house. Suddenly, the distinct sound of clicking heels filled the air, and a young redhead in a vibrant red coat appeared before you. "Oh my gosh, you're here!" she exclaimed, enveloping you in a warm, enthusiastic hug. "Steve has not stopped talking about you. You’re Y/n, right? I'm Wanda," she said with a smile. "It's so nice to meet you too! I wish I could say the same about you," you teased, playfully nudging Steve's arm. "Oh, that's just Steve. He's a pretty reserved person. Come in, come in, everyone’s in the kitchen," Wanda said, taking the lead as she ushered you inside. Following her lead, you kicked off your sandals and made your way into the inviting warmth of the kitchen. "See, not so bad," Steve remarked quietly. "Yeah, Wanda seems super nice," you agreed. "And we're only just getting started," Steve added, gently holding your hand as you both stepped into the bustling kitchen. 

The two of us walked into the kitchen and spotted the rest of the group. A striking redhead in a sleek black dress perched on the counter, enjoying a glass of wine. A confident black man was busy setting up the table, while another man with a metallic arm was hard at work in the kitchen. Wanda caught their attention and introduced me with a warm smile, prompting the others to follow suit. The redhead, Natasha, strolled over to me and greeted me affectionately. "I'm Natasha. Your dress is stunning; I can see why Steve calls you sunflower," she remarked with a smirk, casting a glance at Steve as she embraced me. "Thank you, yours is gorgeous as well," I replied.

The man who was setting the table made his way over to us. "So, this is the famous Y/N Steve can't stop talking about? I can see why," he said with a warm smile as he confidently walked over. "Sam Wilson, nice to meet you," he said as he extended his hand. I couldn't help but giggle as I looked at his hand. "Thank you; you are all super kind to me," I replied with a smile. "Well, Steve said you were a special friend, so you deserve to feel special," the last man said as he extended his hand for a handshake. "Bucky Barnes, we are so happy you are here," he said warmly. I couldn't help but feel grateful for the kindness of these people and how lucky Steve must be to have such thoughtful friends. "Told you they would love you, sunflower," Steve said as he brought me in for a side hug.

As I made my way towards the counter where Natasha was, Bucky informed me that dinner would be ready in a few minutes. He listed the menu as salad, pasta, chicken, brussels sprouts, and homemade mini cakes courtesy of Wanda. Natasha then offered me a glass of wine. I accepted and requested a Pinot Grigio, and as she went to the fridge, she discreetly took a small vial of clear liquid from the refrigerator before leaving the kitchen with Steve following her.

Once they reached the wine cellar, Natasha's eyes sparkled with excitement as she deftly grabbed the bottle she sought. "Everything ready?" Steve inquired, wrapping his arms around her waist. Their relationship had evolved into one of friends with benefits since they had been on the run, but now they no longer needed to rely on such arrangements. "As long as she drank the water you gave her, then we will be set," Natasha confirmed, setting the wine glass on the counter and retrieving the vial. "She doesn't feel anything right now; she's just relaxed. This, however, will make her more open to our suggestions and make her easier to seduce. We will have her in our hands in no time." Natasha finished pouring the wine and closed the bottle with a sense of determination. "I wanted to have her right then and there when I saw her in that sundress. She has no idea what she is doing to me," Steve confessed. "Soon, Steve, soon," Natasha called out to Steve as she returned to the party, him following closely behind.

Natasha and Steve glided into the room, Natasha holding a delicate glass of wine. "Here you go, angel," Natasha said as she gracefully handed the glass to the recipient. "Perfect timing, the food is ready," Bucky exclaimed. "Do you need help with anything?" you kindly asked the cooks. "Nonsense, you are our guest. Go have a seat; we will be over shortly," Wanda said as she expertly opened the oven. The rest of the group approached the table, which Sam meticulously set. You found yourself seated between Steve and Natasha, with Sam, Bucky, and Wanda on the other side.

Steve rose from his chair with a beer in hand as the delicious food was placed on the table, and everyone took their seats. "I would like to propose a toast to Y/N," he announced, causing a flutter in your stomach as everyone smiled at you. "Thank you for gracing us with your presence tonight. I feel that this evening will be etched in our memories forever. Cheers!" he exclaimed, raising his glass as everyone followed suit. It was clear that tonight was going to be truly extraordinary.  

After an hour had passed, not a morsel of food remained, and the plates sparkled clean. It had been quite some time since you felt so carefree and relaxed, and the feeling was beautiful. As Wanda and Bucky shared a hilarious story, you found yourself laughing along with them while the others tidied up after dinner. Natasha approached you with another glass of wine, but you declined, explaining to her with a tinge of sadness that you and Steve would have to leave soon. The evening had been so enjoyable that you wished it wouldn't end. "Don't worry, sweetie. You're more than welcome to spend the night if you'd like," Steve called out from the kitchen. "But I don't have anything with me for an overnight stay," you quickly pointed out.

"We have a spare bedroom, and you can borrow some sweats. Seriously, don't sweat about it," Wanda said with a warm smile. "Are you sure about that?" you questioned Wanda, feeling grateful for her hospitality. "We are positive," Natasha responded reassuringly as she once again handed the glass to you, her eyes reflecting genuine concern. "Okay, okay. But this is the last glass; I'm starting to feel the effects of drinking," you commented, letting out a light-hearted laugh. Unbeknownst to you, the group exchanged knowing glances, anticipation for their plan evident in their eyes. 

As Steve suggested heading to the living room to wrap up the evening, he approached you and gently massaged your shoulders. You yawned, feeling the wine's effects, and quickly apologized for your drowsiness. "Sorry, I just got sleepy. This wine might be stronger than I thought," you chuckled. As you stood up and headed to the living room, you noticed your vision becoming blurry, causing you to lose your balance.

"Are you feeling okay, honey?" Bucky asked, his concerned gaze fixed on you. "I just feel a bit dizzy. Do you mind if I go to bed early?" you inquired, steadying yourself against the back of the couch. "Why don't you lie down next to me? It might help," suggested Steve as he came over to you. You hoped that his suggestion would bring some relief as Steve gently guided you to the plush couch. He positioned you in the center, and everyone respectfully kept their distance, allowing you some space.

You heard a gentle buzzing sound beginning and looked around to locate its source. "What's that noise?" you asked as you attempted to sit up, but the throbbing in your head persisted. "Oh, it's just some soft music. It's meant to help you relax," Wanda reassured you as you felt Steve gently guide your head back onto his shoulder where it had been resting. In front of you, the TV displayed a captivating screen saver. It consisted of black and white squares merging into each other. Strangely, it was pretty soothing and difficult to look away from.

As you commented on the intriguing screen, you noticed your speech slowing down unintentionally. In response, Sam softly remarked, "Yeah, I know. It came with the TV. We tried to change it but couldn't figure it out." Unbeknownst to you, Wanda had silently approached from behind. Her hand emitted a crimson magical energy that flowed into your head, inducing a sudden and profound relaxation.

"It's not too bad; it can be quite relaxing to look at. Don't you think it's relaxing?" Wanda asked, her words echoing in your mind whenever she mentioned "relaxing." "Relaxing?" you mumbled sleepily. "Yes, darling, relaxing," Steve whispered into your ear as he gently brushed some hair away from your face, ensuring your gaze remained fixed on the screen before you. Despite your efforts to look away, it was difficult to resist.

As your eyelids grew heavier, it became increasingly difficult to keep them open. "Are you getting sleepy over there, my lovely sunflower?" Steve softly chuckled. You attempted to shake your head, but the effort was futile. "It's okay to relax and sleep, darling. Just close your eyes and let go," Bucky's voice whispered. "I don't want to," you replied in the faintest of whispers.

Natasha's soothing voice filled the room as she said, "Why not? It's okay to relax and sleep. To close those heavy eyes and sleep." Her gentle hand massaged my shoulders, lulling me into an even deeper state of relaxation. "Sleep?" I questioned. Steve let out a chuckle and reassured me, "That's right, honey, just sleep for me. I'll keep you safe. Just close those heavy, heavy eyes and sleep for me." Each word from Steve felt like a gentle command, and I found myself unable to resist as I followed his instructions, succumbing to the irresistible urge to close my heavy eyelids.

#bucky barnes smut #steve rogers smut #natasha romanoff smut #wanda maximoff smut #sam wilson smut #bucky barnes x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #sam wilson x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #dark!sam wilson #dark!natasha romanoff #dark!steve x reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark!natasha romanoff x reader #dark!wanda x reader #dark!sam wilson smut #steve rogers x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

[sunflower-lilac42]

𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 | 𝘫𝘩86 ♔

➯ summary: jack just gets a little protective of his girl, and shows a little bit of it on the ice when he plays her ex for the first time since they started dating.

➯ warnings: fights, protective jack, reader is called a slut

➯ published: may 27, 2024

➯ notes: one of a couple fic ideas i've gatekept from you all by one of my incredible nonnies. this was inspired the picture i posted the other day so hehe. the ending is a little wonky but i think that's just something you should always expect with my fics. anyway, feel free to continue to send in fic recs, summer break is in full swing and i have found my writing passion/groove again so i'm more than happy to fulfill them! i hope you enjoy some protective jack for your late night scrolling. i love you all and I'll see you later <3 | add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

Hockey games had always been entertaining to her, or rather for her. It seemed that every time y/n showed up at any arena, any league, any game, something would happen. Whether it was a fight, going into several rounds of a shootout, or having to use an emergency goalie, something happened at them. And this time was no different.

Sure she had been to multiple games of Jack’s before, but usually he wasn’t the cause of the chaos. She had noticed he had been a little on edge the whole night, period after period. While she couldn’t necessarily see his face from where she was sitting (unless they zoomed in on it of course), she could tell by the way he played and the way he stood during breaks that something was off. 

Jack had begged her to come to a came, she hadn’t been to one in a couple of months due to their schedule and her work. She was a bit reluctant at first, this would be her first game while dating Jack and they would be playing the Avalanche. The first time she would have to see her ex and her boyfriend play each other in person. 

He too was hesitant, but her being there definitely outweighed the risks of her and Cale running into each other. She gave in as soon as he turned his puppy dog eyes on her, they both knew once she saw them it was hard to resist them. She threw on her jersey and met up with a few of her friends to go to the game. She opted not to sit with the other wives and girlfriends today, wanting to blend into the crowd a little. 

Her friends made conversation throughout the game with her, also noticing Jack’s weird behavior. Her closest friend, one of the ones that was there through the breakup with Cale, nudged her about halfway through the third period, “Look.”

Y/n moved her eyes to where Charlotte was pointing, they narrowed as they zoned in on Cale and Jack standing close to each other by the Devils net. She went to shrug it off but could see how Jack’s head cocked to the side and tensed his shoulders. Then they skated away from each other as the puck escaped Nathan’s grasp. 

“It was probably nothing.”

She wished that statement was true. In reality, Cale had been chirping at the younger boy the whole game. It started as nothing, plain banter that he would hear at any game he went to. Then it turned into the common, “Pretty boy hockey player” chirps. While he wasn’t affected by it, he could tell that he wouldn’t stop and that’s what bothered him. 

Cale’s last defense to get the boy railed up came during the third, 10 minutes before the game ended. The first one wasn’t enough to get Jack wound up, maybe a little ticked off, sure. The allusion to his girlfriend made his anger rise. The second time, however, was a much different story. 

It was three minutes until the game ended, three minutes that y/n clutched tightly to one of her friends’ hands, praying that they would not only win but Jack would get out of there unharmed and the fight that she had thought was going to happen wouldn’t. Yet, as soon as Jack heard her name leave his mouth and he was pushed forward, his stick dropped and he turned around, anger blinding his mind. 

She wasn’t exactly sure what either of them said, more unsure of what Cale had said to cause the action. Jack’s words sounded something along the lines of, “What the fuck did you say about her?” And she knew, she hated that she knew, but she did. Jack was never able to keep control when someone said anything even remotely hurtful to or about her. 

The gloves dropped next and she gasped in surprise when she saw Jack’s fist meet Cale’s jaw. She had never seen Jack fight, at least not this much. There was the little incident in which he lost his tooth but she was never allowed to call it a fight, Jack forbade her to (though, she and Luke still did to everyone but him). 

She couldn’t decide if she should watch in awe, surprise, fear, or anger. And she wasn’t sure if she should be allowed to find it mildly attractive at the way Jack’s hair fell out of his helmet and his lip was bleeding slightly. The refs finally pulled them apart, the Devils bench going wild at him fighting for once in his life. 

After the game, she stood with some of the wives and girlfriends, her friends long gone by then. It took Jack a little longer to come out, and when he did she stopped her conversation with Nicole and turned to look at him. He only held out his hand as he kept his gaze down. She slipped her hand into his and smiled politely at the remaining group of women before letting herself be pulled away to Jack’s car. 

The car ride was silent the whole way back to their apartment. There were plenty of times that she wanted to reach out, ask him what happened, simply hold his hand, or run a hand through his hair, but she held it back in fear of causing a fight between them. Halfway into the drive, his right hand slid from the steering wheel and made its way over to her thigh, resting comfortably. 

She looked down and saw the small cuts and a few bruises that littered his knuckles. She used her hands to trace them, Jack’s hand tightening at the feeling. That’s how they spent the rest of the ride, Jack’s hand on her thigh occasionally squeezing it out of whatever emotion he had been feeling, her hand tracing shapes along his arm and on his hand, and in silence. 

When they arrived home, she was starting to get fed up, the silence was too much for her. She closed the door behind the two of them and stood with her arms crossed as she watched Jack maneuver around the apartment. Jack was hoping he would be able to escape the night without any word of the game at all, but just like her prayers weren’t heard before, his weren’t either. 

“Stop.”

Jack halted in the hallway between the living room and their bedroom. He turned to face her, slightly nervous, “What happened?”

He shook his head but stopped once he saw the look plastered on her face. He was in deep and utter shit. 

“Jack Rowden Hughes, you better tell me what happened. Why did the two of you fight?”

“He said shit about you.”

She quirked an eyebrow, unable to make out his words due to his mumbling. He sighed and spoke up, “He said something about you.”

She stepped closer to him, within arms reach. She tilted her head in confusion, “What did he say?”

Once again his words came out mumbled and she rolled her eyes in annoyance, huffing, “Speak up Jack.”

“He called you a slut, okay!” Her eyes widened in surprise, though neither of them was sure if it was because of what Cale had said or because of Jack’s yelling. 

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I thought he said something worse.” She shrugged and moved to walk to their bedroom, seemingly done with this conversation. 

“Hold on, wait a minute.” Jack’s hand grabbed her arm and spun her around, “What do you mean you thought he said something worse?”

“What? I meant what it sounded like. With the way you reacted, I thought he would've said something way worse than calling me a slut, Jack.” She smiled, trying to alleviate his anger.

“He hasn’t called you that before has he?”

Her smile turned down and so did her gaze, now focused on his hands. Jack lifted her chin, his right index finger resting underneath it, “Has he?”

She nodded, eyes trained to the wall behind him, “Jesus, y/n/n.”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“Didn’t think it was- he called you a slut, y/n.”

“So? I know I’m not and you know I’m not and everyone else knows I’m not. Why does it matter what he thinks?”

“Because he shouldn’t be calling you that.” He wrapped his arms around her tightly. 

She sighed and reciprocated the hug, “It doesn’t bother me, Jack, so it shouldn’t bother you.”

“But it does, baby.” He pulled away from her to cup her face with his hands, “If someone talks shit about you it’s going to bother me. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m fine, Jacky. I promise you. You just get a little protective don’t you?” Her hand wrapped around one of his wrists and she smiled at him. 

Jack’s smile that he gave her was smaller than hers but she loved it all the same. Her gaze dropped a little to his split lip, “I wasn’t sure if I should’ve been turned on or not when you were fighting. I think my worry clouded my judgment.”

He smirked and raised an eyebrow, “Oh really?”

“Mhm.”

She traced his lip with her thumb before kissing him. He groaned in return at the sudden action but kissed her back immediately. They pulled away a minute later, both slightly breathless, “Should I fight more often?”

His one hand moved to push a strand of hair out of her face, “If it’s hot like that, yeah.”

“Oh so you find fighting hot, do you?” His hands wrapped around her waist, moving her closer. 

She giggled slightly before raising an eyebrow, “Why did you think I dated a defenseman?”

“Too soon, baby. Too soon.” He dipped his head to kiss her again, but this time it ended with them in the bedroom. 

⇘ 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝙅𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙮 𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 ⇙

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

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#sunny lune writes #nhl #hockey #nhl hockey #nhl imahine #hockey imahine #jack hughes #jh86 #jack hughes x reader #nj devils #new jersey devils

[bl4cktourmaline]

How about Furina realising she can get together with and marry the person she liked when she was an archon now that's she's human?

(ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ — furina

✿ — ♬ ⌨️ᶻᶻᶻ : x is typing... ✉!

✿ — ↻ SYNOPSIS : Furina realizing she could be together with the person she loved the most.

✿ — ♯ GENRE : Bittersweet

✿ — ⊜ CW : Nil

✿ — ↠ NOTE : Hi hi anon~! Thanks for requesting this :3 I really had fun writing this and I hope you'll have a good time reading this fic too! Remember to hydrate and take care<3 Sorry for this fic taking forever too ! TT

If you'd like to request click 'here' and read the writing rules for each writer !

✿ — ♪ REMINDER : reblogs & likes are appreciated, in doing so will motivate us to continue delivering stories to you, thank you for all of your supports ~ !

✿ — ♭ ⁿᵒʷ ᶜᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ... : ...no one..

✿ — ► ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Furina x reader [Headcanons/Drabbles]

𝅘𝅥𝅯 During the times when Furina was an Archon, she was forced to uphold her arrogant personality like her people wanted and expected out of a god. However when she met [y/n].. It was different.

𝅘𝅥𝅯 [Y/n] was a part of Chioriya Boutique who worked under Chiori to help her produce outfits and fetch materials. It wasn't often they get to see the Hydro Archon, but when they do, [y/n] had always treated her like a normal fontainian and didn't flounder whenever she was near them. Not even caring that she was an Archon.

𝅘𝅥𝅯 This made Furina want to act selfishly and make [y/n] hers. However, due to her circumstances of needing to play her role. She was unable to make the relationship into a romantic one.

𝅘𝅥𝅯 When she found out the prophecy was false and that she could stop pretending as an Archon. She quickly went into hiding, afraid of what you'll think of her being a 'fake' god.

SPLISH SPLASH! SPLISH SPLASH!

[Y/n] was currently near the Opera Epiclese. Although fontaine had just flooded, and you should probably get home before catching a cold. They decided to look for her.

'I wonder where my dear Furina went..'

[Y/n] sigh, knowing she probably went into hiding due to the fear of what they might've thought of her, being a 'fake' god.

[Y/n] checked every place, being the Opera where trials are usually held, to even the place she resided in.

[Y/n] had no choice but to request and acquire help from the ludex to inquire help of where their dear friend could be.

..Only to find out she had moved out, after a week of searching for her in fontaine.

Now [y/n] was standing in front of one of the most ordinary buildings that is in front of the blacksmith. Though [y/n] thought they should probably get curtains for her, they could see her entire home from outside..

Knock Knock Knock

...

"Furina, I know you're not sleeping.."

Click!

The door slowly opened, revealing a short white-haired girl dressed in blue and black. Furina looked oddly embarrassed and just kept hands at her back, before looking at [y/n] with a more confident pose.

"[Y-Y/n]! Fancy meeting you here aha..."

"Furina.. I know you've been actively avoiding me, since I was searching for you for a week."

"O-oh really? I guess we kept missing each other-"

"You're a terrible liar.. Though I'm glad you're looking fine. Have you been eating and resting well?"

'They.. were worried about me? Even after I lied to them- no, everyone, about being an archon..'

"Uhm yeah! I've been making macaroni's to eat."

"Just 'macaroni'?"

"Yeah! With different sauces of course.."

[Y/n] sighed, before taking her hand and dragging her out of her house.

"[Y/n]?! Where are you taking me?"

"To a restaurant of course, it'll be my treat since I've received my paycheck."

[Y/n] suddenly felt a tug, looking back, seeing that Furina had stopped. Before [y/n] could ask her why she stopped, she posed a question.

"..Why are you being so nice to me? I lied to you about being an archon.. I can't even give you anything in return now.."

"Is it not obvious? I always see you as a friend. Not an archon, now come on, eating macaroni every day isn't healthy!"

Furina's eyes widden a bit before regaining their composure. That was probably the reason why she fell in love with you.

'Oh right.. Since I'm now a regular human, I can marry [y/n]!'

"Hey [y/n]? Can I tell you something?"

"Hm? What is it?"

"I-"

Furina choked on her voice.

"I-it's nothing. I just wanted to tell you thank you.. And that I appreciate you."

'It's fine.. Marry [y/n]? You're such a fool Furina, you should be just be content with being friends with [y/n]. They deserve someone better than a person who lied about being an archon.'

"I'm glad I met you Furina"

[Y/n] smiled blushing a little.

"Let's go get food together, okay? My treat!"

"Let's."

'Maybe.. In another universe, you could be mine.'

#｡⊹˚x; writing ˏˋ꒰❄️꒱˚彡๑ #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗ #astronetwrk #furina x you #furina x reader #furina x y/n #genshin furina #furina genshin #furina #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact furina

[pickingupmymercedes]

I'd like to believe - Lewis Hamilton

Alternative sequel to Maybe in another life / When I get to meet you

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: mentions of mourning, angst, will make you emotional

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Alternative-ish ending (this was actually my first draft to continue their story, so the happy-ish one is the alternative, sort of).

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

MILD TRIGGERING CONTENT UNDER, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

______________________________________________________________

My dearest little one,

Today marks ten years since you should have been here, celebrating another year of life. Ten times the snow has fallen, making everything quiet outside.

They say time heals all cuts, but some cuts go real deep, leaving scars that never quite go away. And I still find it hard to believe that a whole decade has passed.

You'd be so grown now, so full of life and curiosity, brimming with questions and dreams. I often wonder what you'd be like – would you have my stubbornness and determination, or your mother's grace and patience?

Maybe a beautiful blend of both, creating someone truly unique.

I’m going to visit your stone again later today. Leave this letter like every year. I suspect there’ll be fresh flowers, as always, probably from your mother.

She never forgets.

We never reconnected, not like I'd hoped for. But I think about her often.

I searched everywhere for her. I just really needed someone to share the pain with, someone to hold onto while everything fell apart. We tried talking, spilling out all our feelings, but the words wouldn't come out right. Maybe we were afraid of saying the wrong thing or making things worse.

Maybe we were both thinking the same thing – maybe if we'd done things differently, maybe you'd still be here.

After a while, the space between us just kept getting bigger, too big to cross. You see, your mom, she found a way to move on. She built a life for herself, a life where the pain was still there, but it didn't control her anymore.

I hope she's found peace and happiness, something she deserved more than anyone. She was an incredible woman, and I wish I had been the man she needed me to be.

I hope she reads these letters someday, that she understands how much I loved you both, how much I regret not being there when you needed me most.

Maybe one day, when the weight of these years starts to feel a little lighter, I can finally forgive myself.

Maybe then, I can find the strength to reach out to her, not to get back together, but to find some peace, a simple way to say thank you for the love we shared and sorry for the loss that tore us apart.

You know, life has changed quite a bit since I last wrote to you.

I'm with someone, have been for the past four years. She's patient, kind and knows about you. I don't think we'll ever have children though. She's got her own ghosts.

I retired from racing. Shortly after I won my eighth championship with Ferrari. It was a dream come true, but also bittersweet because I couldn't share it with you. I work as a consultant for the team now, just like Niki was for me at Mercedes. You’d have loved him.

It's a different kind of thrill, guiding the next generation of racers, helping them navigate the same challenges I once faced, but it drives me forward.

I’d like to believe you’d be proud of your old man for that.

I sometime wonder if you would have been drawn to racing too, or maybe you'd have found your passion in something entirely different. Whatever it might have been, I would have supported you every step of the way and with all my heart.

I think about the things you'd enjoy often; you know?! The hobbies and interests you'd develop.

Maybe you'd love music, like your mother. She had an incredible ear for it, always humming a tune or singing softly to herself. It’s what got us close in the first place so many years ago.

Perhaps you'd have a knack for building things, creating something out of nothing with your hands and imagination.

Either way, I hope you'd have found joy in the simple things, just like I try and do now.

There's so much I wish I could’ve shared with you. So many lessons I've learned the hard way and would to show you. Life isn't always easy, my little one. It's filled with ups and downs, triumphs and failures.

One of the most important things I wish I could’ve taught you is the value of love. Real love, the kind that fills your heart and soul, and is worth every bit of pain and sacrifice.

I had that with your mother, even if I didn't realize it at the time. She saw right through me, saw the man behind the driver, and loved me for who I was. I'd hope you'd find someone like that, someone who understands and loves you unconditionally.

It might hurt sometimes, but that's how you know it's real. Love isn't always easy, but it's the most beautiful thing.

I would want you to know that it's okay to make mistakes though. I made plenty, and each one taught me something valuable. The key is to learn from them, to grow and become a better person. But each moment, whether good or bad, shapes who you are.

I wish I could have been there to guide you through it all, to help you navigate the challenges and celebrate the victories. My motto has been “Still I Rise” for the longest time and if you wanted it could’ve been yours as well.

Life isn't about being perfect; it's about being true to yourself and striving to be the best version of you.

In the quieter moments I still dream about you, you know. In my dreams, you're a whirlwind of energy, your laughter filling the air. We go on adventures, explore the world together. I teach you what I know, and you teach me about everything else.

Those dreams are my sanctuary, a place where we can be together, even if just for a moment.

Sometimes, I catch myself talking to you out loud, as if you were right beside me. I tell you about my day, about the races, about the world. It might sound silly, but it brings me comfort. It's my way of keeping you close, of making sure you're never forgotten.

Even though we never got to meet, you are a part of me, and I carry you in my heart every day.

You are my greatest loss, but also my greatest gift. You've taught me more about love than anything else in this world.

Sometimes, under a sky full of stars, I imagine you up there with the constellations, looking down at me with curious eyes. And I need you to know that we love you still, deeply and unconditionally.

Ten years old. A whole person with your own personality, dreams, and wishes.

The world missed out on knowing you, and so did I.

But your memory, my precious child, it lives on. It lives on in the way I cherish every moment, every sunrise, every laugh shared with a friend. It lives on in the way I try to be a better person, kinder, someone who would have been a good dad to you.

This letter is my vow written down. A promise that even though you're not here, you'll never be forgotten.

Happy birthday, my sweet child. I hope, wherever you are, you're smiling, knowing that you are loved and cherished.

You are my light, my angel and a part of me. And though the path I walk may be lonely sometimes, I carry you and your mom with me in my heart, always.

With all the love that would have filled a lifetime.

Dad.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

[monstersflashlight]

Hey, I was wondering g if you could make a sleeping in the dark part 2? If it's okay to ask could you possibly do a chubby!reader?

Crying in the middle of the night in the darkness but the minster comes out to think reader is crying because of the dark. Reassuring her that it's oka and the dark isn't scary but, reader then explains that she wasn't crying because of the dark. The monster gets all confused and asks why she was crying. Reader tells the monster that she was insecure abt her body, then further explains that's she's been being treated badly in her work/school environment by her peers because of her body/looks.

Thank you if you respond, I mean it could be a she part and not part 2 but again, thank you.

-🦝 anon.

Hi 🦝 anon! I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this. I really wanted to do justice to this request. As a chubby woman myself, I know perfectly well the struggles of being fat in a society that doesn’t like fat at all. I try not to make any comments about the body of the reader if it doesn’t play a part in the action bc I want ppl to imagine themselves there as they want. Even when the monsters use terms as “little human” think about it like the monster is so big you are tiny, doesn’t matter how big you are in real life. I love a good size difference, so there’s that. I hope you don’t think this means you need somebody to tell you you are pretty, beautiful or hot, because that’s not true, you are all that without anyone saying it. Believe me, as someone who likes boys, girls, and everything in between, fat bodies are hot like burning. But I do get the necessity to hear it sometimes, and this story is born because of it. That said, I hope this is as cathartic for you as it was for me, this short hit really close to the heart for me. <3

Part 1 if you haven't read it

Sleeping in the dark (part 2)

Night monster x chubby fem!reader || orgasm denial || tw: fatphobia

You were, once again, crying in your room, ugly sobs that made it hard to breathe and your heart beating faster. You felt his presence before he could make himself known. “Oh no, little human, I thought we went past the fear of the dark.” His tone was so soft you felt your heart skip a beat.

You sniffled against the pillow, “is not that.” You tried to tell him more, but another sob broke from your chest.

“What do you mean?” He seemed confused at your statement, like there weren’t any other reasons why you could be crying about. You guessed as a monster in your closet he probably didn’t know much about the horrors of the world. He lived in a bubble of darkness inside your room, after all.

“They- They called me fat,” you told him in between hiccups.

“Who did?” His tone sounded dangerous. You looked up from your pillow, trying to see something in the dark of your room. You could see his silhouette, but nothing else. You wished you could turn the light on, but you didn’t want him to go.

“Some random dude from the office. They called me fat. They thought I wasn’t listening but they called me fat and made fun of me. I thought I was past that, but there’s always someone that reminds me how ugly my body is.” He growled at that statement. You ignored it and kept talking, “they always tell you to love your body, but when it comes to being fat, they want you to hate yourself. And I try to fight it, I try every day, but sometimes is just too much.” You sobbed again, he touched your knee and you felt his arms closing around you two seconds later. “I just want to be pretty.” You cried against his chest, your voice muffled by his skin. He growled and you felt it against your teary face.

“Don’t say that. You are pretty, you are beautiful, you are the most beautiful human,” his voice was filled with desperation for you to believe him.

“You have to say that, you’ve only seen me,” you joked. The laugh you let out was swallowed by the sob that broke free right after.

“You are wrong.” He touched your skin, wiping away some tears with his thumb. “I’ve lived thousands of years, I’ve known many humans, some of them have known me. You are beautiful. You are perfect.”

“No, I’m not. But thanks for saying that.” He flipped you onto your back so fast you let out a scream. He tore your clothes apart and you felt him caressing every inch of your skin at the same time.

“Beautiful,” he told you. He touched every part of your body, caressing your skin like you were a work of art, whispering endearing words against your ear. He told you every single compliment you could think of, and then some more.

It felt wrong to feel like that, you felt like he was lying, but he couldn’t be. It felt like he was forcing you to acknowledge every single cell in your body. It felt like he was pushing the words in your soul, trying to imprint them there so you wouldn’t feel ugly never again. You cried, at every single word, a tear ran down your skin. He didn’t wipe them out, he let you cry as he caressed your skin. When he parted your legs and positioned himself there, you kept crying.

Your pussy was so wet, and your soul felt so raw.

He started slow, licking your wet lips, playing with his tongue all over, but where you wanted him the most. He never shut up, telling you how pretty you were, how wet, how wonderful for him, how perfect. You were rapidly approaching to an orgasm when he said: “Say nice things about yourself if you want to come.” You shook your head, grabbing his head and trying to push him to eat you out again. “Say it,” he ordered. His voice was hard and commanding.

“I- I can’t,” you cried out. There was no way. You didn’t feel it, it wasn’t true. You weren’t pretty. You weren’t beautiful. His words seemed like a lie, but his actions spoke volumes. One of his hands never stopped caressing your soft tummy, your wide hips. His other hand played with your pussy, thrusting in and out in a tortuous way.

“Say it!” He insisted, his tone angry as he pushed two fingers into you forcefully. You cried out, almost there, so close but so far.

“I- I’m pretty,” you whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. He rewarded you sucking your clit into his mouth, the touch of fangs against your vulnerable flesh made you shudder.

“More,” he ordered.

“I’m beautiful.” Each word was rewarded by his fingers rubbing perfectly inside of you, a torture like any other, driving you insane with pleasure. “I’m hot.” Each word he forced out of you felt like he was taking a weight from your chest. You felt like you were going to float away.

“Yes. Yes, you are.” He kept playing with you, getting you close to the edge just to go away when you stopped talking. He forced you to be nice to yourself, to say all the things you didn’t believe you were. But he did, he believed. And for the moment, that might be enough. He thought you were beautiful, he thought you were hot. Maybe… maybe he was right. He never lied to you.

You were lost in your thoughts and the pain-pleasure he was giving you when he flicked his tongue over your clit as he hit your G-spot. “Come for me, pretty human. Show me how perfect you are.” And you did, falling apart around his tongue and his fingers. The attack on your senses crashing down onto you.

You had an out of body experience, the tears cool against your cheeks, your rapid breathing coming into short exhales as he played with your pussy to drive you further up. You came so hard you think you saw stars. You felt boneless, your body and your soul completely spent. You felt him cleaning you with a soft cloth, your eyes closing already.

“I will stay with you,” he murmured as you were falling asleep. You felt his arms closing around you, his hands caressing your body, from your wide hips to your soft tummy… He made you feel special, he made you feel beautiful.

#part 2 #monster #monster fucker #monster imagine #monster x human #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #terato #night monster #night monster x reader #night monster x human #fem!reader #tw: fatphobia #🦝 anon

[joelalorian]

Petals of Affection - Part III

A floral mystery in three parts, featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!

Word count: 3,049

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, kissing, f!oral, unprotected p in v (it's 20 years into the fucking apocalypse), it's not stated, but I envision Joel having been snipped pre-outbreak, terms of endearment. POV flops around like petals in the wind. Reader has no established age or physical description aside from having hair that gets frizzy with humidity and often dirt-covered hands, because greenhouses, ya know? No use of y/n, none whatsoever.

Dividers courtesy of the wonderful @saradika-graphics. Gif chosen because of the wonderful floral wallpaper ;)

And this sweet little love story has come to an end. Thank you all for coming along for the ride! Your comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated more than I could ever say.

Part I | Part II | Masterlist

Jasmine Orchid Eustoma Lavender Magnolia Iris Lily Lilac Eucalyptus Rose

JOEL MILLER

Joyful moments shared; the answer lies in the air.

Overwhelmed by your grace, the answer hides in this place.

Endless thoughts of you, the answer is in the view.

Lost in your scent, the answer is present.

Moments with you, the answer rings true.

In your eyes, the answer lies.

Lost in your beauty, the answer is a duty.

Longing for your touch, the answer means so much.

Evergreen thoughts of you, the answer is in the dew.

Remember my love for you, the answer is in you.

JOEL MILLER!

Maria’s eyes roved over your scribbled notes, a broad smile slowly spreading across her face at the underline beneath Joel’s name. “Took you long enough. I was beginning to question your intelligence, girl!”

Heat warmed your cheeks as you laughed, though you weren’t sure if it was due to embarrassment or the wine. “The answer was right in front of my face this whole time, I just couldn’t see it.”

Flopping back on the couch, you felt a bit overwhelmed. Ducking your head between your knees as you leant forward, you sucked in a few deep breaths before baring your soul to your best friend. “I wanted it to be him. I longed for it to be him. But I didn’t dare to hope that it would be him. Do you know what I mean?”

“I do.” Maria’s voice held nothing but understanding. “Hope could lead to despair if not met.”

“Exactly!” you exclaimed, poking your head up to meet her dark eyes. “I couldn’t handle the despair, so I couldn’t dare to hope.”

Maria settled onto the soft cushion next to you, one arm reaching out to rub your back soothingly. “You have nothing to fear now. Joel did all this, for you.” Her free hand gestured at the flowers and notes scattered across the table. “His feelings for you are so deep, so true, that he came up with this elaborate plan to show you instead of just telling you, like any normal person would.”

Pausing, Maria waited until you met her gaze again with a watery smile, wanting to make sure you understood the point she was making. Her eyes earnest and smile broad, she added, “He was afraid to hope, too. But he did and look what has come of it.”

Tears built up, threatening to spill over as you absorbed everything. Joel loved you, just as you loved him, his grand gesture proving it beyond a shadow of a doubt. He dared to hope when you didn’t and thank goodness he did. You two would still be dancing around each other for who the fuck knows how long otherwise.

You stood suddenly, feeling revived and eager to see Joel at once. “I need to see Joel. I need to tell him I feel the same way.”

“Well let’s go then! He’s probably at my house with Tommy.” Maria led the way out of your house after you both scrambled to put shoes on, marching with purpose down the quiet road under the cover of a clear, starry sky.

Despite the late hour, you needed to see Joel, to return his declaration of love now that he bared his heart and soul to you in such a clever, romantic way. Crisp air filling your lungs as you walked, you felt the effects of the wine wear off. You never felt so clear-headed, so full of promise, so full of love.

“Do you know what you’re going to say to him?” Maria asked as you neared her house. Bright lights shining through the curtains showcased the shadowy movements inside of the two men inside.

“Not a clue,” you admitted, suddenly nervous. “My brain hasn’t gotten that far yet. Fuck! What am I gonna say?”

“Well, you could always just walk in and kiss him. Just lay a big wet one right on his lips,” Maria suggested, the nearly full moon reflecting mischievously in her dark brown eyes. As your mouth dropped open, she added, “Yes! That’s exactly what you should do!”

“Well, in the absence of anything better…”

Laughter still bubbled from your bellies as you followed Maria up the front steps and into her home. Nearing sensory overload, every cell of your body vibrated with the burning need to lay eyes, hands, lips on Joel.

“Is that you, honey?” Tommy called from the living room. The two of you turned the corner into the room, and Maria made a beeline right to her husband.

Ignoring the married couple, your attention focused on the other occupant of the room. Joel sat on the couch, leant back in a relaxed pose, one arm slung across the back cushions. His thick thighs spread wide, just begging for you to step between them.

Wide and unblinking, his burnt umber eyes watched as you stepped further into the room. Head tilting quizzically, he licked his lips as you approached with an impossible slowness. Neither of you could look anywhere else, gazes locked, bodies pulling together like magnets.

Joel’s pouty lips parted in surprise when you didn’t seat yourself next to him, electing instead to climb onto his lap. He blinked owlishly at you as your face moved closer, centimeter by centimeter, until your lips met his in a delicate first kiss. However brief, that initial press of your lips against his ignited an inferno within you both. You mouths came together urgently the second time, as lips, teeth, and tongues clashed. Your fingers carded through his silky soft, thick curls, nails tenderly scratching itches on his scalp he didn’t even know he had. He preened under your touch.

So absorbed in each other after months and months of longing and pining, dancing around feelings you hid for each other, the rest of the room blurred to nonexistence. Your ears picked up soft murmuring from Maria and Tommy, but you ignored it. Your world revolved around Joel, and Joel only, at that moment. You shifted, trying in vain to bury beneath every layer of his skin, until you straddled his lap.

At long last, you pulled back as the need for oxygen became unbearable. You and Joel had been pressed so close together, noses smushed as you kissed, that neither of you could even breathe.

“I take it you figured it out.” Joel’s eyes searched your face, voice rumbling from deep in his chest, the sound like velvety chocolate to your ears.

You nodded, lost for words at first and his lips slowly tilted upwards at the corners until his smile reached its limit and the precious dimple in his cheek poked through. “The flowers and notes were so beautiful, Joel. I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner, your riddles were just too good,” you grinned. Tears pricked at the back of your eyes at the look of complete adoration on his handsome face. Sincere happiness welled within you. “The notes, each one more beautiful than the last, I read them over and over. I feel all of that, too.”

Joel’s eyes took on a different shine at your confession, the fire from the hearth glinted in the sudden wetness glazing over them.

“Can I take you home?” he asked gruffly, the need evident in his glossy gaze.

“Fuck yes,” you breathed, giggling as he shifted you both to your feet and practically dragged you from his brother’s house. Neither of you had the wherewithal to say goodbye to Tommy and Maria. They watched the two of you leave with matching satisfied grins before locking up behind you.

“Yours or mine?” Joel questioned urgently as his large hand grasped yours.

“I don’t care,” you replied breathlessly, “whichever is closer.”

“Yours then.” His long legs led you down the deserted street, boots crunching on the hard ground, stopping only once you reached your front porch. He stared into your wide eyes, taking in the vision of your blown pupils and pursed lips. “Are you sure about this?”

“Joel,” you drew his name out in a long sigh, one hand caressing the scruff on his cheek. “I have never been surer of anything in my entire life. Take me inside and make love to me. Please.”

The pitch of your plea shot straight to his cock as he once again nearly dragged you behind him. Grateful that you forgot to lock the front door, there were no impediments to your journey into the house and straight up the stairs to your bedroom.

The urgency slowed once the both of you reached the center of your bedroom. Facing each other as you stood next to the large bed, Joel’s gaze tangibly seared your skin with the absolute heat of it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, one thick fingertip tracing the ridge of your brow and down the slope of your nose. His bedroom eyes captivating as he pulled at your plump bottom lip with his thumb, lips twitching when your tongue darted out to taste the salt on his skin. “I think I fell in love with you the day we met.”

“Me, too.” Mesmerized by Joel’s touch and thoughtful words, you leant forward, slanting your mouth against his. The kiss tender yet scalding hot as your hands began to slowly undress one another. Part of you could not believe this was happening, while another part of you kept repeating fucking finally.

Once you were both fully stripped of clothing, Joel eased you back onto the bed. The broadness of him hovered over you, legs entangled, and he caressed your skin with one large hand. There was no piece of you he left untouched. Your own hands were drawn to his luscious curls, fingers threading through the locks and massaging his scalp.

Joel soon replaced his hands with his mouth, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses down your body. He paid special attention to your breasts, pausing to lave and nip at the hardened peaks of your nipples. A surprised gasp flew from your mouth when he settled his face between your legs, darting his tongue out to taste your sweetness.

He feasted on you like a starving man, tongue laving at your clit before dipping inside to slurp at your juices. You were so wet for him. Only him. His mouth a form of heaven you didn’t know existed, you mewled and squirmed, muscles twitching as he drew you closer and closer to the cliff’s edge.

“Fuck, you are so good at this, Joel.” The half-moaned words fell from your lips when he slipped a thick finger inside you, quickly followed by another. His mouth continued to work at your clit, licking and sucking as you writhed beneath his ministrations.

A man possessed; Joel drew two orgasms from you before letting up. Easing back, he grinned at you, his facial hair glossy with your juices. “You taste fucking delicious. I could stay down here all night.”

A dewy sheen of sweat covered your entire body from being worked over so well. “Any other time, I wouldn’t stop you. But I want your cock inside me, right now.”

“Is that so?” Joel smirked at you, climbing up your body to settle his hips between your legs. Of their own accord, your hands soothed over the warm skin of his back and down to his ass, where you grabbed handfuls of the meaty flesh.

“Fuck, yes. Please, I need you.”

His eyes sparkled at your plea, but he didn’t move an inch. Your right hand reached between the two of you, grasping hold of his cock and gasping at the sheer size of him. Long and thick in your hand, your mouth watered at the thought of tasting him sometime. Joel grinned again, his expression quickly going slack as you tugged once, twice at his hardened length, running the head between your folds before lining him up with your entrance.

Dark eyes hooded with lust; Joel met your gaze. “You want this?” he questioned one last time, needing confirmation of your consent. The last thing he’d ever want to do is push you too far, too fast. He wanted this to last forever.

“Joel, I promise. I have never wanted someone more than I want you, and only you, right now.” You poured every emotion, every feeling for Joel through your eyes as you pulled him impossibly closer. Angling your hips up, he finally started feeding you his cock, inch by delectable inch. Your mouth dropped open at the stretch when he bottomed out.

“You’re taking me so well, pretty girl.” Joel began to move his hips in a slow, steady rhythm, his arms bracketing your head.

“Ahhh, I’ve never felt so full before. Please don’t stop.”

Soon enough, the only sounds in the room were the gentle slap of skin against skin, your breathy moans, and Joel’s rumbling grunts. Joel kissed you passionately as he fucked into you with deep thrusts, his eyes remaining locked on yours.

Your orgasm built as his cock grazed that perfect spot inside you with each thrust, and the words you’d been too afraid to admit to finally fell from your lips. “I love you, Joel. I love every single piece of the puzzle that you are.”

“And I love you, my angel,” Joel replied, voice gravelly. His hips snapped harder, throwing you both over the cliff. His deep moans were music to your ears as you pulsed around him, drawing every drop of cum from him until he settled heavily half atop you, breathless and sated.

“I can’t wait to do that again,” you blurted, chest heaving, drawing a chuckle from Joel.

“Imma need some time before I can do that again, angel. I’m not a young stud anymore.”

For the first time in many months, you fell asleep in your bed, the vastness of it decreased by Joel’s warm body cuddled up against you.

“You have everything you need, brother?” Tommy asked, helping Joel load up the saddlebags. “Maria tucked a bottle of wine and some glasses in here for you.”

Doublechecking the supplies, Joel nodded. “I think that’s all of it. Thank your wife for me. None of this would be happening right now without you, Maria, and Ellie.”

Tommy patted his older brother on the shoulder. “Being in love has really softened your edges. I actually like this version of you.”

Joel scowled back at Tommy’s teasing for a moment before his face transformed into a glowing, warm smile at the sight of you. Backpack slung over one shoulder, you wore fitted jeans, a tee shirt, and boots with Joel’s green flannel tied around your waist. To Joel, you’d never looked sexier.

“Hi boys,” you greeted, eyes lingering on the older Miller brother as he winked at you. Turning to Tommy, you batted your eye lashes. “Any chance you’ll tell me where he’s taking me?”

Tommy guffawed. “Not a chance in hell, doll. I don’t wanna get my ass kicked by this lug.”

Oh well, you had to try. Shrugging your shoulders, you climbed up into the saddle of a light brown colored horse. “Fine then. You better make sure my greenhouses are still in one piece when we get back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Off you go lovebirds.” Tommy patted your horse’s hind quarter once Joel mounted his horse and led the way through the town gate.

The horses settled into a canter, covering the landscape at a good clip. “It’s a couple hours ride, but I promise you’ll love it, angel.”

“I trust you, Joel,” you replied, lips pressed into a small smile. “I’m just happy to spend time with you.”

The pair of you chatted about anything and everything as you rode, sharing stories about your pre-outbreak past and the struggles faced since. You already knew about Sarah and how hard Joel took the loss of his beloved baby girl, but Joel felt comfortable sharing more stories of her with you. The conversations were interspersed with occasional comfortable silences as you took in the landscape and kept an eye out for trouble. The hours and miles passed in no time and Joel led you to a stop in front of a rusted-over fence. Dismounting the horse, you swiped a hand over a warped sign which indicated the property was a botanical garden in its former life.

“Joel,” you breathed, touched that he thought of taking you to such a place for your first official date. You had no idea it even existed.

“It’s rundown, obviously, but nature has completely taken over in a way that I think you’ll love. There were flowers everywhere when I first discovered the place. This is where I found some of the ones I gave you,” he explained. Pulling a section of fence open, he led you and the horses onto the property before closing it behind you.

“Tommy and I cleared the placed a while ago, but there may still be some cordyceps lingering around. Keep an eye out.” Joel handed you a pistol, checking first to make sure it was locked and loaded, and swung the rifle from his shoulder.

The grounds were quiet except for birdsong and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Plentiful flora grew in every direction you turned, overtaking dilapidated benches and buildings alike. The grounds were a vibrant sea of colorful flowers and plants, and a mix of floral fragrances nearly overwhelmed your senses. Joel led the horses into a small area cordoned off on three sides, leaving them to graze while the two of you explored.

Joel reached for your hand, entwining your fingers as you walked the grounds. Even overgrown and unkempt as it was, the garden left you in awe. You strolled, recounting information about every flower you recognized. Joel listened, enraptured, as you spoke about their meanings, falling in love with you even more with every brilliant word that came out of your mouth.

He surprised you with a late lunch in a field of wildflowers on the way back to Jackson, gathering a small bouquet in his hands while you ate. Joel tucked a bright yellow flower with long, thin petals into your hair before handing over the bouquet.

“When you’re ready, I’m going to ask you to marry me, my beautiful wildflower.”

fin

#jettsflora&faunachallenge #writing challenge #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel x female reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedrostories #joel miller smut

[sunny44]

Forget about us

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Ex!reader

Warnings: nothing I guess

Summary: Y/n writes a song about her ex and ends performing for him.

Note: heyy, this story was inspired by the song Forget about us from Perrie, im using her as face claim and her last name also.

Y/nedwards instagram post

Liked by @rebeccadonaldson, @maxverstappen1, @yourbff and others 28397

Y/nedwards Hey guys, I’m happy to tell you all that my new single “Forget About Us” is out now. This is a very personal song for me and I was really concerned to put it out but here we are.

Hope you guys like it

@f1fan this song is fantastic and I love it

@jnao22 I hope Carlos listens to it

@Imrebeccad In love with this song

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This was definitely the most personal song I had ever written. I had written songs about him and our relationship before, but nothing so deep and exposing my feelings so clearly. But after years, I finally felt ready to expose my feelings to the world, and here we are.

And it happened to be during the Monaco Grand Prix weekend, to which I was invited by Ferrari. Even though I knew he would be there, I couldn't refuse because, according to my agent, this was what I needed for my career, especially since I made a song about him, even though people didn’t know about it.

So here I was, entering the garage and being greeted by some familiar faces.

"Y/n." I turned around to see Charles, surprised to see me.

"Hi." I hugged him.

"How are you? It's been a while." He said, a bit awkwardly.

"I'm fine, and you?"

"Also fine. I heard your song, and it's amazing."

"Thanks, I listened to yours too, and I'll definitely ask you to do a piano solo for me."

"I'd love that."

"Y/n?" And the voice I least wanted to hear.

"Carlos." I said simply.

"I didn't know you were coming."

"Yeah, I was invited."

"Oh, that's great. How are you?" At this point, Charles had already found a way to slip away.

"Good, and you?"

"Good too." Thank God he didn't mention the song.

"You are..." he was interrupted by a woman with brown hair and beautiful blue eyes.

"Hi, love." She kissed him and looked at me. "Hi, you’re Y/n, right?"

"Yes."

"I'm Rebecca, Carlos's girlfriend." She said kindly and extended her hand to me.

"Yeah, of course." I shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, I loved your song. I haven't stopped listening to it for a minute."

"Song?" Carlos asked, confused.

"The one I showed you the other night, and you said it was very good."

"Thanks for that. Look, I need to go, but it was a pleasure meeting you."

"Sure, if you want to watch the race with me."

"Thanks for the invite." I said, walking away.

It was all too much. The encounters happened very quickly, just minutes after I arrived so I needed some time away. But on my way, I bumped into someone and would have fallen if the person hadn't caught me.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry." I said as soon as I regained my balance.

"No problem, I almost made you fall." I picked up my bag from the floor. "Y/n, right?"

"Yes, nice to meet you."

"Max." He said, and that's when I realized he was another driver.

"Of course, I know who you are." He smiled. "Sorry again, I wasn't paying attention, and it's very crowded here."

"Small place with lots of people, it's normal." He laughed. "Which garage are you in?”

"Ferrari."

"I knew I recognized you from somewhere."

"Please don't tell me it's because of Carlos."

"Actually, no, you released a song a few days ago, didn't you?"

"Yes I did."

"Daniel hasn't stopped listening to it, and he insisted I listen to it too. Really good, by the way." He said kindly.

"Thanks, that means a lot."

"Now I know who it's about." He joked, and for some reason, that made me laugh.

"Yeah."

"You're welcome in the Red Bull garage anytime."

"Thanks."

"Well, I have to go, but I'll see you around."

"Sure, definitely." He waved and started to leave. "Oh, there's an event tonight, and they're looking for someone to close the night. I'll mention you."

"Wow, thank you, that would be amazing."

"See you later then."

"Sure." And then he left.

...

A few hours later, I got a call from the event organizer at Tag Heuer, saying that if I was available to sing my song at the end of the night, she would send me the details. Since I couldn't refuse, I obviously accepted.

And now, I was here, nervous, trying to think of an outfit that would look good but not too simple since Monaco wasn't a place where people wore ordinary clothes.

"Oh my God, I have nothing to wear." I said, frustrated, to myself, and seconds later, there were knocks on my door. When I opened it, my manager walked in with a black garment bag, probably with an outfit inside, followed by two more women. "What's going on?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't find a way?" She shook the hanger in her hand, and I laughed. "Have you showered?"

"Yes."

"Then you can start on the makeup."

I think an hour later, I was ready. The outfit was perfect for a performance at an event in Monaco. I would say a bit over-the-top in my opinion, but according to my manager, it was a common outfit for the place we were in.

When I left the hotel and headed to the event, I was wearing a black dress for now since I would be participating in the party a bit before my performance, and she didn't want to spoil the outfit's surprise.

When I arrived, I obviously passed by several photographers before managing to get inside. Once I stepped inside, a few gazes turned directly to me, and I just smiled and tried to blend in.

"You look beautiful." I heard a voice behind me, and it was Carlos.

"Thanks, you don't look bad yourself."

"Thanks."

"Found you." Now it was Max. "So, are you nervous about later?"

"Later?" Carlos asked.

"Oh, I mentioned her to the Tag Heuer folks. They were looking for a final performance to close the event."

"You're going to sing?"

"Yes."

"Want something to drink?"

"Oh, I don't think it's a good idea. Better not to be tripping during the performance." Max laughed and agreed. "But I'll take a sparkling water if you have."

"Sure, be right back."

"About the song..."

"We don't need to talk about it. Actually, I don't want to talk about it."

"Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it with you."

"Because the song is about me?"

"Look, just forget it, okay? I wrote a song about something in my life, and there's nothing wrong with that."

"I didn't say there was."

"Just forget it, okay? Why don't you go be with your girlfriend?"

"So you can stay here alone with Max?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"It's obvious he's into you."

"And this concerns you because?" He didn't respond. "That's what I thought."

With that, I left and found Max halfway. We talked until it was time for me to go. I changed clothes and was backstage, waiting for them to announce me so I could go on stage.

"And now we have one last performance, singing her newest single. Y/n Edwards."

I went on stage, and the music started playing. I felt the gazes on me, but his gaze felt like it was burning my skin. I had to be careful not to stare at him the whole song, but a few times our gazes met, and when the song was ending, I looked at him, who was smiling at me and applauding along with everyone else.

After that, I returned to the party, which now had a DJ. I received several compliments and once again encountered Carlos, but this time with his girlfriend.

"You were amazing." She said excitedly and hugged me. "It was even better live, and I loved your outfit."

"Thank you."

"Y/n." Max came with a drink in hand. "Here, your manager said it's your favorite."

"Thanks."

"Come on, let's leave them alone." Rebecca said, and reluctantly, Carlos went with her.

"Come, let's go over there." He took my hand, and we went to the other side.

Most of that night is a blur. Max and I drank too much, and I only remember waking up naked next to him the next morning. I spent the day at his apartment with him until I caught a flight to England in the evening.

...

Already back in my routine, I woke up to the alarm, ready to get dressed for an interview. When I picked up my phone, I was hit by thousands of news stories with titles like "Carlos Sainz and Rebecca Donaldson Break Up," and there was also a message among the thousands of others that caught my attention.

Bonus scene!

Y/nedwards instagram stories

“So happy that I got to play my song here in Monaco, thank you @Taghauer”

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 #f1 instagram au #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz headers #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz 55 #carlos sainz icons #carlos sainz edit #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz f1 #carlos sainz junior #carlos sainz #carlos sainz pancakes #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x oc #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz au #carlos sainz angst #carlos sainz social media au #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz ferrari #carlos sainz blurb #carlos sainz masterlist

[plentyoffandoms]

Hello.

Can I please request something for lord Debling. He finds a wife who also wants a practical marriage, she was in love once but had her heart broken so now she's just looking for practicality as she doesn't want to be feel that pain again. Once married they make a deal that once she is definitely pregnant, that he can leave on his 3 year expedition and even add the lost time that it took to get pregnant as he was supposed to leave right after the wedding (like in the show). But he comes back after a month cause he missed her and realized he might be in love. She's still sceptical but with the birth of their son things might change her heart .

Just really fluffy and tooth roting sweet.

Debling really deserves more love I felt so bad for him in the show 😢

I Fell in Love

Lord Debling x f/Reader

Main Masterlist ♡ Bridgerton Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Gifs and photos do not belong to me. 1st gif @yeahskam 2nd gif @farosdaughter 3rd gif @orion-lake

Warnings. None

Requested by anonymous. I hope you like it. I agree, he most certainly deserves more love than he got on the show.

WC: 1873

I knew this marriage to Lord Debling was a good match for him and I.

We both were looking for a practical marriage, as he wished to travel and I wished to stay home with the children.

When he proposed to me, I knew that he would be the husband for me, as I was not looking for love.

I thought I found love when I was first looking for a husband. I fell in love with someone whom I grew up with.

Our mothers would talk about our wedding, and how we would have such beautiful babies, and that we were meant to be.

I still remember hearing his mother's words clear as day. "Falling in love is the greatest gift of all."

I completely agreed with her until he came over to tell me that he was breaking off our engagement.

I was left shattered as he told me he had found someone else to marry. By the look on his face and how he talked about her, I knew that he was in love.

He walked out of my home and my life, married her, and now lives not far from me.

I had to watch them be as happy as I thought him and I once were, and the moment I found out she was with child, well, I shut down.

My cousin Penelope is the one who brought my attention to Lord Debling.

At her wedding to Colin Bridgerton, I was sitting at the table by myself, not interested in standing off to the side with the other single woman, or standing there with my mother and her sister, my aunt Portia Featherington as they gossiped.

As Penelope sat down next to me, I gave her a fake smile, but she could always see right through me. She placed a gentle hand atop of mine and squeezed my hand.

"I know of one man, if you are interested." I cut her off, "I am not looking for love right now, Penelope."

"He isn't either. You must have heard of Lord Debling."

"I have."

She told me all about him. How he wanted to travel, and that after his wedding, he will be gone for three years. That his wife will be at home, tending to her duties.

"I will meet him for you, dear cousin."

Penelope smiled and clapped her hands, drawing attention to the two of us. As she basked in the attention, I tried to hide away, as I was sick of the pitying looks I got.

◆

Lord Debling and I met, and he told me what he what he was looking for in a wife.

"By no means am I looking for love. I just wish to have a friend to come home too," and that sealed the deal for me.

He courted me only for a short time, and my marriage to him is happening tomorrow. I am happy that I will not grow old alone and just like he wanted, I am glad to have found a friend along the way.

LORD DEBLINGS POV:

Her and I were dancing, all eyes on the two of us, and she gave me a soft smile as she looked at me. I gave her a soft one back.

"I shall leave once you are with child." I told her.

"But your trip, my Lord."

"Please call me Alfred. We are married now."

"Well, Alfred, your trip."

"I will go once you are with child, and if you do not mind me adding on how many months it will take for you to be child."

"I do not mind at all, but I do not wish for you to hate me because you are postponing your trip."

I stopped the two of us dancing, and I stared her right in her eyes.

"Nothing you could ever do shall make me hate you."

I was very serious about that.

◆

Seven months.

That is how long it took her to be with child.

During that time, we got to know each other better than I thought we would. I leaned her hobbies, her favourite books, what made her happy.

Once I found out what her favourite flower was, I made sure to have a fresh bouquet brought to her bedchamber once a week.

It always warmed my heart to see her smelling the flowers. How her eyes seemed to light up when she would thank me for them.

Even though I have no interest in decorating our Manor, she made sure to include my input in each room. "You live here too, Alfred, even though you will be gone for three years. This is still your home."

I never thought of it like that. I just didn't care how my home was decorated, but she took great pride in it.

As each room was completed, she would show me, and I was stunned at how she did make sure to include what I would mention.

It didn't matter if it was the colour of the furniture, a painting I mentioned I wanted hung up in said room, or just a piece of furniture. It was there.

I did not realise it at the time that I was slowly falling in love with the woman whom I had married.

◆

She was standing next to me, as I was leaving in a few moments. I placed my hands on the small bump, wondering what our child would look like.

"You come back to me, Alfred." She softly said.

"Nothing will keep me from you and our little one."

I cupped her cheek, and her head turned to kiss my gloved palm.

I kissed her forehead, and I could see the sadness in her eyes as she closed them. It looked like she was fighting back tears.

"It is time, my Lord." I toon a step away from her, my hands leaving her her body, and her own hands went on her stomach.

I got in the carriage, fighting the urge to look out the window, as I knew I would stop and go back to her, making up some excuse about not wanting to be away from her.

◆

I have been gone for only three weeks, and I wake up every morning thinking about her. If she liked the flowers that are still placed in her room.

If she has enjoyed the gifts that I have sent home, or if she has got them yet.

If she has kept busy without me there.

If she misses me like I miss her.

The last thought made my stomach twist, and I pushed that feeling back, thinking about this trip I am on. This adventure I have waited so long for.

But I knew my heart wasn't in it anymore.

And I fought with myself each and every day until I finally declared that I was going home.

That I needed to be with my wife and unborn child.

I had to tell her that I have fallen in love with her.

◆

My staff were stunned to see me come running up the front steps in the middle of the night. I had a rider go ahead and warn them I was coming.

"Lord Debling, we were not expecting you. Is everything all right?" My friend and butler, Jonathan said to me, as I looked around my front foyer.

"I must see my wife."

"Lady Debling is fast asleep." He said as I ran up the stairs, on my way to her room.

"I must see her." I became almost frantic the closer I got to her door.

Just as I was about to knock on the door, it opened, and there she was, tired and angry at all the commotion. She was about to ask what was going on when she saw me standing in front of her.

She looked me up and down. "Alfred?"

She reached out to touch me to see if I was really here or a figment of her imagination, "I am really here."

"Why are you home? Is everything okay? Did something happen?" The questions were just flying from her lips.

"I would like to be alone with my wife." Our staff left us alone as I walked into her bedchamber, and she closed the door behind her.

"Alfred."

"I am okay, I just needed to come home to you."

"Alfred, I am okay. The baby is okay. I am due any day now." She said as she sat on the edge of her bed, and I sat down next to her.

"I know, but while I was away, I couldn't fight my feelings anymore."

"Feelings?"

"Before I left, I was falling in love with you."

"This is not how this marriage is." She stood up, her hand on her lower back as she walked to be closer to the fire.

"I know, and at first I was happy just to have a friend to come home too, but I got to know you, really know you, and even though I tried to fight it, I fell for you."

"I have been in love before, and he broke my heart, and my soul." I got up and grasped her hands in mine.

"I know, and I promise to never do that to you."

Tag list: @madhatterbri

I placed her hand over my heart. "Do you feel that? My heart only beats for you. I am not asking for you to tell me you love me right now, but I want you to know that I love you, and no other person with ever take me away from you, my Lady Debling."

◆

"Shhhh, my little Theodore. You are safe now." I looked down at our baby, who was cooing at me. She was in labouring far longer than I knew a woman could be in labour for.

She was being tended to by the midwives and the doctor. I refused to leave her side, but when she screamed for me to get out, I listened to her.

When her water broke, I called on her cousin Penelope to come and be with her, knowing she would not want me in the room with her.

Colin came, and him and I have long put aside our animosity towards one another.

Once Penelope came out, carrying little Theodore, Colin congratulated me. "How is she?" I asked Penelope.

"She is doing well. She is being cleaned up, and then you will be called upon."

The both of them left, as I sat there waiting to be allowed in to see my wife.

Once I was allowed in, I placed Theodore on her chest, and she kissed the top of his head, his hair colour matching hers.

"He is just perfect, darling. I am so proud of you." I kissed the top of her forehead, and she looked up at me and gave me a tired smile.

"Alfred, I should have told you this before, but I love you."

I kissed her with as much passion as I could muster.

"I love you forever and always, my darling lady."

#reader imagine #reader insert #female reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x f/Reader #bridgerton #lord Debling fanfic #lord Debling fic #lord Debling imagine #lord debling x reader #lord Debling x you #lord Debling x f/Reader #lord Debling x female reader #lord Debling x y/n #lord Debling

[mcufan72]

Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki x female reader (AU)/ 18+

Chapter 12

Chapter 11

Warnings: contains fluff, smut, angst, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, alcohol and cigarette consumption, soft!dom/sub vibes, toxic relationship, morally grey stuff, blackmailing, abusive and insulting behaviour, workplace bullying, some violence

A/N: I'm sorry that it took me so long to update this. Life keeps being a plague. It's a long chapter once again and the end of the story is coming closer. I hope you enjoy reading.

While slipping into your dark green trainers you called Walker. You hoped that he could quickly drive you to lower Manhattan. You needed to find Loki as soon as possible and maybe you needed Walker's help to stop him from doing something really stupid. You weren't sure if Walker would answer your call, maybe he had worked the whole night and was still sleeping right now but you had to try it. You needed someone by your side you could trust and who wouldn't let you down in this awful situation and besides, you had no other person you could ask for help in this specific situation.

“Hello? Who's speaking?” You heard Walker's hoarse voice on the other end of the line, answering your call. It sounded like he was suppressing a yawn.

“Walker? It's y/n here. Walker, can you come, please? I need your help”, you asked him and grabbed your coat from the coat rack, putting it on.

“Are you okay? Did something happen? Is it about Mr.Larsson? Did he do something to you?” Walker was immediately wide awake when he heard your concerned and subtly frantic voice but he couldn't imagine that something bad could've happened between you and Loki.

“It has something to do with him, yes but he didn't hurt me. Walker please come, it's urgent. Can you drive me to lower Manhattan? Immediately? I'll explain everything to you while driving there and I promise I'll make it up to you. But please, please help me”, you nearly began to cry. You were so afraid that it might be already too late to avoid the worst case.

“Of course, dear, I'll be there in five”, and he ended the call.

You hurriedly ran down the stairway and waited in front of your house for Walker to arrive, impatiently walking up and down the pavement. It seemed you waited for an eternity but shortly after you saw the familiar black limousine driving around the corner to pick you up. You yanked the door hastily open, slipped into the passenger seat and closed the door, Walker looking quizzically at you.

“I don't belong on the backseat anymore, I won't return to the agency to work as an escort lady. I've fallen in love, Walker and I wanna be together just with him, with Lo… Luke”, you answered his wordless question, nearly accidentally revealing Loki's real name caused by the overwhelming situation you were in. You could barely think straight. Your thoughts were all about Loki and what he was about to do.

“I'm glad to hear that, y/n, you deserve happiness and a loving man by your side. Where do you want me to take you?”

“Do you remember the building I told you where my last workplace was?”

“Yes, I do!”

“Perfect! Please drive me there and Walker, we have to hurry. Loki… Mr Larsson is going to kill someone and… we need to stop him. He told me that… that he would kill my shitty ex after we spent our first night in the hotel suite. Now I'm running after him to avoid it and if not… he has to go… to jail. Walker, I can't lose him, I can't live without him”, you explained, your voice trembling with fear.

“He's going to kill someone? Seriously? This man would go to any lengths for you, wouldn't he? I always knew it. This man has fallen deeply for you. But…’Loki’?” The name evoked something in his mind.

“Walker, please…”

“Yeah, let's go. Buckle up, ma'am, we're in a hurry. Let's go on that mission”, and he ignited the engine, pressed the accelerator pedal down and merged into the traffic. The sun wasn't shining anymore and it began to rain when you were halfway through Manhattan. And as if that wasn't enough to darken your mood, you ended up in the biggest traffic jam you could think of. There wasn't any back or forth and no chance to take a different way. The rain got pretty heavy and you pulled the hood of your coat over your head. You opened the door, ready to jump out of the car onto the rain-filled and busy streets.

“What are you doing? You'll be drenched within seconds!” Walker warned you.

“I cannot wait for the traffic jam to clear, Walker. Meet me at the building of my former workplace, okay?” You didn't wait for his answer and confirmation. You slammed the car door shut and ran, ignoring everyone who came into your way, dodging everyone as best you could. The rain was pouring down now and you were already drenched to the bones after a few seconds but you didn't care. You ran, you ran as fast as you never did before in your life, and you hoped it wasn't already too late. Ralph's agency was still several blocks away.

“Loki, don't, please don't do it… Loki, no”, those words dropped off your lips like a mantra and your tears mixed up with the heavy raindrops on your face.

***********************

“Is your boss in?” Loki asked calmly but darkly.

“Do you have an appointment, Mister…?” The front desk lady, a beautiful, young woman dressed in an elegant business dress, wanted to know. Seemingly impressed she stared at the man in front of her. Tall, with prominent cheekbones and a sharp jawline, his long inky black hair slicked back to tame the obvious curls, his toned body perfectly dressed in an all-black suit and a black dress shirt with a dark green tie, fixed with a golden tie pin, a dark long straight-cut double-breasted coat with notched, dark green lapels and a dark green lining. A nice pair of golden cufflinks peeped out of the coat’s sleeves and rounded off his elegant outfit. Loki would never appear on a business matter in casual clothes like he had worn when he had left you this morning. His appearance was extremely intimidating, even frightening and the dark sunglasses, which covered his eyes, added to this feeling. Loki ignored her and turned around to head to Ralph's office which must be behind that massive wooden door to his left-hand side. Today was payday. Not for you but for Ralph. Loki was on a mission and his mission was to fight for the honour of his lady, for you. And he had no time to waste.

“Sir, please, I must insist …Sir, excuse me, you can't… Sir”, she shouted at Loki, running after him and trying to stop him from entering Ralph's office without an appointment or personal invitation.

“Shhhh”, was all she was hearing when Loki turned around to look at her, placing his pointer finger vertically over his lips to shut her up.

“I assure you, I can, madam”, Loki said, his voice deep and cold as the arctic night. The young woman froze in place and she already knew that she would get punished by her boss because she hadn't done her job correctly which was to avoid this man walking straight into her boss’ office. Her neck hairs stood up when she saw Loki with long strides approaching her boss’ office door, his boots heavily hitting the floor. Loki gripped the doorknob, turned it, entered the office silently, and closed the soundproof door soundlessly behind him.

Ralph's back was facing the door and he was staring out of the floor-to-ceiling windows while he was on a phone call with someone. At the horizon, heavy rain-filled clouds were hanging dangerously in the sky, coming closer with every minute. His voice trembled and sounded angsty and excitedly. Loki took in the interior of the office and everything looked like he had expected. A curved glass desk, with several photos spread out on it, and a black leather executive chair, designer furniture, of course. A big flat-screen TV embedded in a wood-panelled wall, mahogany, of course. The finest cashmere silk carpets covered the marble floor and an amazing view over lower Manhattan completed the luxury of this office. And nothing of this came from Ralph's work. Not the money he owned, not this exclusive location, not the interiors. Nothing he claimed to be his was his at least. Not at all. Most of it came from your work and the work of your colleagues and seeing all this now with his own eyes after you had told him everything made him even angrier than he already was. He could literally and figuratively see how hard you had worked for all of this and he knew that professional success didn't come from nothing. Ralph really knew how to exploit his employees, mentally, physically and emotionally. A more superior, arrogant prick who never shit between two shoes. His only interest was money. He didn't care about anyone, he only cared about money and wealth. It disgusted Loki to imagine you in the arms of this jerk and he shuddered inwardly, suppressing the upcoming possessiveness and protective feelings he had for you. He had to stay cool and collected to avoid any bad mistakes which could bring him back to the dungeons of Asgard.

“You'll get your money… yes… yes, I assure you… yes, yes I promise… yes, I know she'll pay… C’mon, you know me, I'd never…”, Ralph whined into the phone and tried to sound credible when he turned around, looking at the tall, dark-dressed man standing opposite of him.

“I call you back, bye”, he talked into the phone and ended the call abruptly.

“And who the fuck are you? Who let you in? Do we have an appointment? I don't think so! Get out of here!” Ralph addressed Loki disrespectfully and upset.

“The front desk lady told me that you're here and I let myself in”, Loki responded emotionlessly and took off the sunglasses to put them provocatively slow into the pocket of his coat, settling his piercing gaze on Ralph's face.

“That bitch will get fired. That fuckin’ loser will never learn to do her job right. I'm surrounded by fuckin‘ idiots”, Ralph shouted towards the door, raising a clenched fist.

“Says the son of a bitch who has nothing else to do than exploiting and mistreating his employees and caretakers. I'd say, that makes you a fuckin’ idiot, a snorty pretentious douchebag who looks down on others”, Loki said while walking slowly towards Ralph, towering dangerously over him.

“Who are you? Are you one of Malone's men? I've told him I need more time. Don't go on my nerves, man!”

“Never heard of that name”, Loki answered, his voice menacingly.

“Are we dealing with the wrong men, Mr Belmont?” Loki tilted his head. “It doesn't matter who I am. I am no one's man. Well, I'm y/n's man but this is none of your business”, Loki's voice was deadly calm, deep and threatening and he felt the urgent wish of conjuring a knife.

“Ohhh, I see…”,Ralph laughed bitterly. “Are you her new stud, eh? Is that bitch in heat again? Well, I hope you fuck her right. Does that slut go wild when you shove your dick up her cunt or does she still think of me to cum hard? She's so frigid sometimes. That's so boring and annoying, isn't it? Thankfully it's none of my business anymore. Maybe I could give you some advice on how to pleasure her right. You better make the slut pay her debts or I'll forget about my good manners”, Ralph bellowed. “The clock is ticking man and soon you and the rest of Manhattan will know about what she really likes, you know. Would you like that? Your girlfriend posing naked on every billboard in Manhattan you can think of?” Ralph said provocatively not knowing who he was talking to. Loki clenched his jaw hard, glancing down at Ralph before he looked at the pictures on the desk.

“Are these the photos you're blackmailing y/n with?” It was a rhetorical question and he had a closer look at the spread-out photos. They showed you, his precious girl and beloved queen, in sexy lingerie or completely naked in lascivious poses or throwing air kisses toward the photographer, which was Ralph. Loki would've found them cute and arousing but knowing under which circumstances and why they were taken he was just disgusted. You didn't deserve that. It was abusive and violated the most private part of your life. He knew you had agreed to get photographed like that by your ex but they shouldn't lay here, on the desk, for everyone to see, ready to get published. On closer inspection, Loki discovered an HD-card lying on the desktop too, halfway covered by one of the pics.

“And the sex tape is on that card, I assume.”

“What a clever man you are?” Ralph answered sweetly and dismissively. “The bitch hasn't paid yet. If she pays, she can have them. If not, I'll publish them tomorrow at 6 am sharp. I own a bunch of billboards around town and beyond the city limits. It'll ruin her reputation, she won't have any chance in the marketing business anymore… or she comes back to me, back to the office and into my bed, so I can teach her further and everything will be fine again and I'll forget about the sexy, dirty little secrets I share with her”, Ralph said, a sardonic smile curving his mouth. “Or are you interested in the photos and the porn video? It's a really good one. Maybe you can learn something new, eh?” And he kept grinning complacently at Loki. “You can have them… let me think… for half a million dollars? That's the bare minimum for such a beautiful girl and a great offer, isn't it? You also would have two things for the price of one… you'd have her and the erotic photos. I'd say that's a fantastic deal so... Take it or leave it”, he offered the pics to Loki like they were a slice of meat.

Loki kept eyeballing him, pure hate and contempt in his gaze and he tried hard to not lose his cool. His fantasy evolved from punching and stabbing Ralph to ripping his tongue out. It was hard for him to stay calm but he had something to lose and that he would never risk. Not for someone like Ralph. Somehow he had a feeling he could hear your voice from afar, begging him to not do it, whatever ‘it’ was.

“And you say you loved her?” Loki's voice sounded emotionlessly but inwardly his blood was boiling.

“Who said I did? Yeah, in the beginning… everything was sunshine and roses and we were fucking like rabbits, yeah it was fun. She was of great use, you know. Everything she touched turned to gold. She's smart, clever, brave, an excellent negotiator, and a successful account manager. She's one of the best in our business. It gained us loads of money. She had a luxurious life with me and everything a girl wants: a penthouse in the best region of Manhattan, a beach house in the Hamptons, luxurious holidays, luxurious designer clothes, purses and shoes, her beloved cabrio to cruise to her mama, finest jewellery and big ass parties, and we still had sex which was off the charts when she was in the right mood… anything a girl could dream of but she threw it all away… for someone like… you?” Ralph raised his eyebrows and his grimy laughter filled his office. Loki was close to freak out and he had to suppress the urgent need to kill Ralph in an instant.

“But love? Love is for kids and dogs and absolutely overrated. Money and sex are good, and more fulfilling. Y/n was an investment, you know. She had a good life with me and there was no need to leave me. She decided differently. But no one, absolutely no one leaves a Belmont. Not without paying back their debts. I just want the money back I have invested in her. And being generous as I am she just has to pay a fraction of what she has cost me… or you take my offer. It's all up to you. Your decision. But as lovesick as you are I'm sure you'll take my offer.”

Loki's anger was boundless and grew with every second this piece of shit kept talking. The memory of you, sitting on the couch with your knees pulled to your chest, desperate and bawling your eyes out because of this man, this swine and what he had done to you and to what his behaviour had forced you to do, flashed back into his mind and made his heart aching. Enough was enough. This man would never hurt you again. Without a warning Ralph was grabbed and spun around and with an expulsion of air when his back hit the wood-panelled wall hard, he was pinned against it by two horned shadows. Panicking, Ralph couldn't see that they had the same shape as Loki. Loki's eyes shimmering greenish and dangerous, he slowly and elegantly took a seat in Ralph's leather chair, crossing one long leg over the other, keeping his stare fixed on that pathetic mortal literally sticking to the wall. He could clearly sense the smell of cold sweat that ran down Ralph's forehead and temples. Ralph screamed and shouted, struggling against the shadows that held him firmly against the wall.

“Hey asshole, stop that, damn it! What is that, let me down! Who are you?” He screamed.

“Someone who is fighting for justice and the honour of a woman. If you want to survive this you better answer my following question accurately. I only ask you once. Are these the only pictures and the only HD card you have of y/n?” Loki rested his forearms on the chair's armrests and kept staring at Ralph with that greenish gaze.

“Don't you dare threaten me… as if I would tell you, asshole… arghhh…”, Ralph whined and instantly the grip of the shadows tightened painfully.

“Wrong answer. Try again but be aware, it's your last chance”, Loki explained dryly. He still considered stabbing Ralph, cutting his balls off, and freeing him from his tongue and eyeballs… There were so many possibilities.

“Yes, yes these are the only ones…”, he answered, his voice squeaky and nearly suffocating when the grips of the shadows tightened further.

“Are you sure? No copies?”

“Yeah… arghh…no… no copies”, Ralph howled, convinced Loki would buy his lie.

“Wrong answer”, Loki responded and let the grip tighten further. He was sure he heard some bones of that pathetic creature break.

“Hey, …stop it… I tell you but please stop it, let… me down”, Ralph begged pathetically and cried painfully. “Hey, I need the money, okay?”, he pressed out. He wouldn't be able to stand this physical attack much longer but Loki wouldn't show mercy until he knew where the copies were.

“I need the money… they won't have mercy. Y/n owes me… she owes me the money…I invested in her… I've debts…a lot of debts. I borrowed money from them…”

“Who are ‘them’?” Loki wanted to. Not that it was important, he was just curious.

“The mafia, the… New York mafia, guys from… the underground…”

“Then you shouldn't have messed up with them. I'm sure they'll take good care of you and your issues. It's none of y/n's business. She was definitely right when she told me you would never get enough. Did you really just try to sell her to me? You even tried to sell me the pictures of her for twice the money you're blackmailing from her. You're such a disgusting piece of shit. And for the record, y/n owes you nothing. But you, you owe her everything. She never wanted all that fancy stuff and your money that isn't even yours. She wanted to be loved and appreciated but all you did was just hurt and abuse her and keep her in a toxic relationship. You tore her heart out and destroyed her happiness. Slowly, torturously, every single day over so many years. You're a scourge, a fucking scourge, threatening everyone around you. You deserve no pity or any kind of sympathy. You used y/n, her trust and her love and mistreated her in every way possible. You nearly wrung the life out of her, you wanted to throw her under the bus. That girl sold her body out of necessity because you had nothing else to do but take advantage of her and blackmail her. And the worst thing is you blackmailed her with these photographs, her proof of love because she posed just for you and trusted you that you would never show them to anyone else. You're disgusting and pathetic and you will burn in hell for that. You don't deserve any good and you never deserved her. You just used her to save your own ass. I should kill you for that and believe me, I could do terrible, awful things to you but you're not worth it that I get my hands dirty on you. You're a disgrace, not worthy to be in the same room as her, not worthy to breathe the same air she breathes, not worthy to even look at her. She's a queen, a goddess and you were never worthy of her at all. And now listen very carefully! You will never reach out to her again or I will find a way to eliminate your pathetic existence.” Loki's voice was full of hate and wrath and there wasn't the slightest shadow of a doubt that he wouldn't do what he was telling him.

“She's under my protection now and you get out of her life for once and all! Got it, you little shit? Where are the copies?” Loki snorted angrily, nostrils flaring and teeth clenching.

“Yeah… got it…”, Ralph confirmed, desperately gasping for air his lungs were longing for. “On my laptop… there's a file on my laptop… that's all… I swear, that's all…”

Loki rose from the leather chair and with a flick of his hands the photos, the HD card and any other digital devices in Ralph's office and on any other desk on this floor turned into ashes, leaving a smoldering mess on every table of Ralph's company. When Loki's shadows vanished, Ralph crashed down to the floor and Loki saw that this pathetic nobody had pissed his trousers.

“Pathetic”, was Loki's only comment and with that he left Ralph's office without closing the door.

“Someone should clean up the mess and tidy up his room”, he said while passing the front desk lady, with her shocked face staring at her smouldering computer and phone. Loki quickly left the floor and finally the building. When he stepped out of the building the sun wasn't shining anymore. Rain was pouring down instead and the streets were already wet and puddles formed everywhere. Damn, he had forgotten to take his umbrella with him. He still lived undercover as Luke Larsson and as this alter ego he couldn't risk conjuring an umbrella under the eyes of Manhattan's inhabitants.

******************************

You ran through the heavy rain, desperately crying and your lungs aching from the exhaustingly run. But you didn't dare make a pause or run slower, you needed to find Loki and stop him. What if he had already killed Ralph? What if it were already too late? You ran and ran, water splashing up your trousers. You were holding your head down the whole time to save your face from the raindrops painfully hitting your facial skin. You kept staring down at the pavement while running through the crowded streets. The way to your former workplace didn't seem to end and you were close to giving up on your plan to save your lover from doing something really stupid when you finally arrived and suddenly bumped into a solid wall of muscles. Immediately, two strong arms were wrapped firmly around you and a familiar voice addressed you scoldingly but lovingly.

“Hey, watch it, girl!”

You looked up, the rain covering your face again.

“Loki, oh my goodness, Loki”, you gasped and hugged him ever so tightly that he moaned with laughter.

“Sweets, what are you doing here, I told you…”

“Loki, please…please tell me you didn't kill him…Loki…” you cried.

“Sweets, why should I…”

“Loki, why did you kill Ralph? Please tell me…please…why did you make such a mistake…I'm not worth it that you risk everything for me…”

“Sweets, calm down. Protecting the people you love is never a mistake… well, listen… everything is…”

“Loki I can't lose you, I can't. How am I supposed to live without you? They will take you away from me…they will bring you to Asgard and then…” you continued upset.

“Sweets, no one will bring me…” Loki tried to interrupt you.

“They will, Loki, they will…and I will never see you again…please, please don't leave me alone…I can't let you go…”, you sobbed desperately.

“Would you please listen to me just for a second, my love?” Loki asked you insistently.

He made you loosen your tight grip on him a little bit so he could look into your tear-stained eyes and talk to you. He cupped your rain-wet face with his big hands, his thumbs gently rubbing over your cheeks and he pressed a tender kiss to your lips. They were wet from the rain and your tears but the salty taste was delicious and the softness of your lips gave him the familiar comfy feeling in his gut. But it also felt painful and somehow like a goodbye.

“I didn't kill him. I only taught him a lesson”, Loki told you calmly after breaking the kiss.

“You didn't kill him?”

“No!” He answered softly and chuckled.

“You really didn't?”

“I really didn't!”

“The photos… What about the photos? And the video?”

“Destroyed, gone to ashes. Everything!”

“Are they? Really?”

“Yeah, really”, he responded, nodding affirmatively and smiling at you.

“I am… I am free now?” You asked unbelievingly. Loki hesitated for a moment before he gave you the answer. He didn't want to let you go ever again but maybe he had to.

“Yes, Sugar. You're free. You're free to go wherever you want. And… I'll keep an eye on you, I promise. I'll be there whenever you need me, sweets. I hope you get happiness soon, you deserve it, more than anyone else. You will always be in my heart and I will never forget you, my sweet thing. You showed me how love, care and adoration should feel and I'm so grateful for it and… I envy the man who is going to call you ‘his’ one day. What a lucky lad he will be.” Loki's voice broke a little bit and he was glad that it was still raining so you couldn't really see the upcoming tears in his eyes.

“Why would you say that? Why are you talking about another man? Why do you make it sound like this is our goodbye?” You were puzzled and rattled.

“You said, you aren't sure if you're ready for a new relationship, a relationship with me. You also told me that you would never fall in love with a client. And in the end, I maybe was never more than this, a client. And it's okay, I totally get that. I just want you to be okay. If you're happy, I'm happy too. I'll always be your friend,” Loki said with obvious sadness.

“I've already found him…” and you gave him a reassuring smile.

“You found who?”

“The man I want to be with… the lucky lad”, you told him, mischievously grinning.

“Yeah, I thought so… and it's understandable”, Loki confirmed and you couldn't help but chuckle.

“You're such an adorable, admirable, wonderful and beautiful charmer, Loki Laufeyson. You still don't know it? It's you. It has always been you!”

“But you said…”

“Yeah, I know… I said a lot of things, stupid things. But there's one thing I didn't say yet”, you told him softly, grabbed him by the collar of his coat and pulled him towards you.

“I love you, Loki, I love you more than I can tell or show you. You're everything to me”, and you pulled him in for a kiss, pressing your lips gently onto his. He swept his tongue along the seam of your lips, demanding entry and you opened your mouth willingly. This wasn't a kiss of passion or a kiss to evoke positive emotions. It was a kiss of revelation. It was a kiss filled with all the love you had inside of you for each other. Now he knew that he loved you, sincerely and genuinely, and he also knew that you loved him too in the same way. You had just told him and he knew that you would never lie to him. The truth was in that loving kiss.

“We should get you out of the rain, sweet thing. You're drenched to the bones. I don't want you to get ill, my love. Let me bring you home.”

“Home? Which home, Loki?”

“What do you mean, sweets?”

“Please, I'd like to go home with you. I don't want to be alone anymore…” Loki smiled brightly at you and pressed a kiss to your forehead, the rain still pouring down on you two.

“Let's get back to your home first so you can get some of your clothes and belongings and then we can go to my home if that's what you want. I'd love to take you home with me, sweets. I don't want to be alone anymore either. And later I'll take you out for dinner. I want to date you and spoil you. Would you like that, my love?” He asked you softly.

“You've no idea how much I'd like that, Loki”, you confirmed.

Loki felt a swell of emotion rise inside him and he didn't know if he wanted to smile or cry or both of it at the same time.

“Thank you, thank you for doing this for me, Loki. You risked your freedom and your life for me”, and you kissed him again and he was holding you so tightly as if the pouring rain could wash you away if he wouldn't hold you this close.

“I'd do anything for you. I'd spend the rest of my life in shackles and solitude as long as I know that you're okay, that you're happy and safe. And I swear, I never wanted to buy you, all I ever wanted was to help you, protect you, love you and have you by my side!” Water was dripping from his dark locks and the tip of his nose, and you were sure there were also some tears running down his cheek.

“I know, Lo, I know”, and a swell of tears prevented you from further talking.

Loki rested his forehead against yours and pulled you gently closer against his chest if that was even possible. He felt you trembling because of the rain and the upcoming wind and most possibly it wasn't just because of this. There was so much tension in you and so much pressure over the last months, emotionally and physically, and you still couldn't process yet what just had happened and what Loki had been doing for you. You would need some time to cope with the whole situation and to fully understand that you were truly free now.

“Let's go, sweet thing. You're dripping wet and shivering because of the cold”, and while he thought about calling for a taxi, a car's horn, which definitely was different from other horns, was honking invitingly. You both looked in the direction of that special noise and a big smile crossed your faces. It was Walker. He finally had made it through the traffic jam. You two hurriedly ran hand in hand to the limousine. Loki yanked the rear door open to let you get into the backseat first.

“C'mon, get in, you two love cats”, Walker insisted and he smiled at you both, a fatherly concern in his eyes.

You two slipped into the backseat and as soon as you were sitting next to each other, you began to laugh wholeheartedly. You two looked rather like completely drenched street cats than like two adorable love cats. Walker turned his head to look at you and joined in your laughter. Neither Loki nor you could remember the last time you were laughing that freely and genuinely. For the first time, you recognised Loki laughing like this and you were in awe at how beautiful he looked when he was laughing and you were sure his smile could cure all of your sadness, insecurities and fears.

“So everything is alright, I assume?” Walker wanted to know.

“Yes, everything is fine. We're so sorry, Walker, that we're ruining your backseat. I'll dry and clean it after reaching my apartment, I promise”, you told him while lovingly squeezing Loki's hand which rested on his thigh in the sodden trousers of his completely waterlogged suit.

“Don't worry about that, y/n. So, where do you want me to drive you and Mr Larsson?”

“Please drive us to my beautiful lady's home first and then it would be great if you could drive us to New Jersey, to my penthouse”, Loki asked him politely.

“Of course, Sir, as you wish”, Walker responded kindly and turned the key in the ignition. Ignoring the blare of car horns, he merged into the traffic to drive you two to your home first and he also put the partition up to give you some privacy.

With a slight side nod of his head, Loki's clothes went dry and his hair was all styled and fluffy again. Your mouth agape, you stared at him and formed a silent o with your lips and raised your eyebrows. You couldn't believe what you just had seen.

“How did you do this?” You asked him surprised when you had found your voice again.

“Ooh… ahhmm… sorry, old habits, sweets”, he answered apologetically. He wasn't aware that you had never seen him using magic.

“It's one of my many magical abilities. I'm sorry if it freaked you out.”

“No, no, not at all, Lo! It's cool. Can you do this drying thing on me too? I'd love to be dressed in my dry clothes again”, you sighed longingly.

“Of course, I can use my magic on you, too. I just wouldn't do it without your consent, and he looked deeply into your eyes, drowning in them and he urgently wanted to kiss you.

“You have it!”

“I have what?" His eyes, which had the aura of a lovesick panther, were still fixed on yours and you cupped his face to pull him in for the much-needed feeling of his warm lips on yours.

“My consent… you have my consent, Lo.” Your last words were a whisper and then Loki captured your lips with his. While he kissed you so deeply and passionately you felt how your clothes went dry.

“Thank you, you mumbled against his lips before you continued making out with your lover. As much as you enjoyed being dry and feeling more comfortable in your clothes again you couldn't deny how sexy and irresistibly arousing you found it to get physical with Loki when you two were in a drenched state. You should test it in a warm shower with him and you started giggling under the sweet torture of his lips, teeth and tongue.

“What?”

“It's nothing…"

“Ooh, I know there's something. What makes you giggle? Did I tickle you?”

“Nooo… I just thought about having sex with you and cuddly hugs in the shower”, you explained.

“Uhhh, you would like that?”

“I would!”

“Your wish is my order, sweet thing and you know that I'm eager to fulfil all of your wishes and needs and not only the naughty ones", he said softly and brushed a strand of hair tenderly out of your face and placed some more gentle kisses to your lips and finally to your temple.

“I want to ask you something”, Loki said, his tone a bit more serious again.

“What is it about?” You wanted to know.

“Do you think Walker would like to work for me?”

You just looked quizzically at him.

“I don't know. Maybe? You should ask him!” Loki nodded at you and pressed the button of the intercom to get in contact with the chauffeur.

“Walker, could you please put the partition down, I'd like to ask you something”, Loki addressed him and immediately the partition went down.

“Of course, Mr.Larsson. How can I help you?”

“Walker, you're one of the most loyal, friendly and reliable chauffeurs and men I've met in a very long time. The way you always supported and protected my beloved woman and I guess any other escort lady of Rhea's agency impresses me and … I would like to employ you. Could you imagine working for me? Exclusively for me? I need a reliable driver who lays great value on discretion and secrecy as much as I do and who would take good care of not only me and my family but also their safety and security in casualty when I can't be with them. It would also include driving a lovely woman and her wheelchair to any place at any time she wants, together with her daughter. You would only have to work in the daytime and driving us by night is going to be an exception. I'll pay you properly and I'll guarantee you excellent working conditions. You don't have to give me an answer right now. Take your time to think about it and… do you have a family?”

Walker was speechless because of Loki's extraordinary offer and he needed a second before he could speak again. He cleared his throat and answered Loki's question.

“Yes, I've got a family. My wife and three kids. I'm sure they'd be glad if I didn't work entirely at night anymore. Also, I'm not only a certified driver, I'm also a certified bodyguard so I could work as a bodyguard for your family too, if necessary. Working in the daytime would offer me more time with my offspring and the missus would be happy to spend more time with me, too.”

“Then discuss it with your wife and let me know your decision.”

“Thank you, Mr Larsson. I… I really don't know what to say and how to thank you. I truly appreciate your fantastic offer.”

“Not that for, and no worries, Walker. Take your time. And there's one more thing which might help you to make a decision. My name isn't Luke Larsson. I'm Loki Laufeyson and I've been living undercover here for twelve years now and you possibly know who I am. But I think you deserve to know who your might-be new boss is. And don't hesitate to refuse my offer. If so, that's just fine for me. I'd absolutely understand it and would totally accept it”, Loki said genuinely.

Now Walker knew why it clicked when you called him this morning and accidentally used Loki's real name.

“New York Invasion 2012. That Loki Laufeyson?”

“Yes, Walker, I'm exactly that man”, Loki confirmed. Walker nodded knowingly, directing his words towards Loki, looking smilingly at him through the rearview mirror.

“It won't have any influence on my decision, Sir. And if y/n trusts you, I'll trust you, too. There's no doubt about it. I'll talk to the missus tonight and I'll let you know about my decision.”

You stared unbelievingly at Loki. Did you get him right? He not only wanted Walker to work for him, but he also wanted him to work for you and your mum. You couldn't believe it.

“Loki, you… you also thought about my mum when you made him this offer? I… I don't know what to say”, you asked him surprised.

“Of course, I did. You're a part of my life now. And so is your mum and everyone and everything that belongs to you and I'll take care of that too”, he told you and with one of his hands he cupped your cheek lovingly. Your eyes teared up and your lips formed a silent ‘Thank you’. What a wonderful and caring man he was and you just hoped you could live up to his love.

***************************

In the early evening after bringing some of your belongings and the things you needed to finish your exams, there were just a few days left, and after some hours of cuddling and drinking tea, you were now sitting in a small, romantic Italian restaurant and having a wonderful candlelight dinner with Loki. A dinner you always had dreamt of you could have with him without the pressure of doing the job of an escort. Tonight you were here as his date, a real date and not a fake date. You wondered why you two were the only guests in the location and Loki explained to you that he had booked the whole restaurant because he wanted to be alone with you. It was so wonderfully intimate and you two enjoyed every second with each other, sharing food and wine, exchanging smitten looks and dreamy moments. Loki held your hand, kissing your knuckles from time to time and he never took his eyes off you. Intimate gestures and loving teasing didn't need any words. The atmosphere was perfectly harmonic. Was there anything more lovely?

“Have I already told you how gorgeous you look tonight in your lovely dress?” Loki gushed.

“No, not yet until now.” You knew that he would like your casual, sleeveless, nicely swinging black dress with the big white polka-dots and he didn't know yet that you wore the green silk lace panties of the lingerie set he had given to you.

“I'm so sorry, sweets, please forgive me. Your beauty makes me just speechless and it clouds my mind.”

“Charmer! As if you were any better, dressed in that dark green, half-opened shirt and your tight-fitting chinos. You're distracting me too and I know you're doing it on purpose”, you teased him and let your foot slide upwards over his shin between his thighs, and with your toes, you started playing with his crotch.

“What the hell are you doing there, you sweet little naughty thing?”

“Nothing”, you responded with assumed innocence, a mischievous grin curving your lips and you took a sip of your wine, looking temptingly at him over the rim of your glass. Loki grabbed your foot and prevented you from rubbing and massaging his manhood further and making him cum in his trousers. He had different plans with you.

“I'm so sorry”, you pouted playfully, licking your lips and placing your glass on the table.

“You're not but if you're a good girl for me and stop turning me on so shamelessly you might be rewarded later.” With your innocent smile and your sparkling eyes, you were hard to resist and Loki considered fucking you right here and now, bent over the table, your breasts exposed and your panties shoved aside, his stiff cock penetrating you pleasurably. But no, this date should be all about you and he had planned something sweet and lustful for you, something he would've loved to do much earlier at a former date and he was sure you'd enjoy it to the fullest. He'd let you fuck him later, at home, under the shower, against the wall or in his bed or wherever you wanted to make love with him. Tonight he was all yours.

“I'll be a good girl then, I prefer to get a reward”, you said smilingly and withdrew your foot. You shoved some spaghetti into your mouth, chewing and becoming thoughtfully.

“What is it, sweets? You seem lost. Are you mad at me now? I was just kidding… I thought you might like some lustful games. I love it when you touch me like this…”, Loki said apologetically.

“It's not because of that and no, I'm not mad at you, Lo. It's just… What happened in Ralph's office? I just can't get it out of my head. Would you mind telling me?” You pleaded for him to tell you about it. You needed to know it for your inner peace so you could close this painful matter.

Loki considered what to tell you and what he should better tell you not because he didn't want you to get hurt any further.

“I told him to stay away from you for the rest of his life and that I would find a way to eliminate his pathetic existence if he's not willing to follow my orders. I did it with a kind of physical force… guilty of that. But I swear I never intended to kill him. I'm well aware of the consequences it would have for me and I'd never risk that. I'd never risk losing you and I'd never leave you alone, sweets”, Loki answered your question and held your hand firmly and protectively in his.

“I know, Lo”, you whispered and a single tear escaped your eye, making its way down your cheek and a soft smile curving your lips.

“When you took a nap in the afternoon I did some research and contacted some business friends for further information about your shitty ex. He has not only lent money from the New York mafia, he also has gambling debts with several New Yorker underground guys, more gambling debts than he can handle. He also kept living beyond his means and he was never good enough to run a company on his own. You were absolutely right, he never gets enough and he tried to use you to save his ass.”

“Yeah, everything makes sense now and I always sensed there's more about it. He would never have stopped if you weren't there…”, you sobbed quietly and Loki caressed the back of your hand tenderly with his thumb.

“Don't think about it anymore, my love. It's over now, you're free and I'm with you and I'll keep you safe. I always have your back”, Loki told you comfortingly.

“Please help me to forget and to start my life anew. Free and without those disgusting threats”, you muttered and kept smiling lovingly at him.

“I'm here and you're already in the middle of the beginning of your new life and I'm with you and I won't go, I'll never leave you alone, sweet thing”, Loki assured you and with your free hand, you reached over the table and cupped his cheek. He leaned into your touch and before you withdrew your hand again he pressed a tender kiss to your palm.

“Thank you for this wonderful dinner, thank you for everything. Did you recognise that this is our first date as y/n and Loki and not as ‘Sugar and Luke’?” You asked him, changing the topic. You didn't want to talk about Ralph ever again. Mentally you let him go to ashes as Loki did with your pictures and the sex tape. He would never influence your life again.

“Yes, now that you mention it, and … my pleasure. I always wanted to have an evening like this with you”, and you both chuckled. It was followed by a deep loving stare into each other's eyes and you couldn't stop doing it.

You finished the main course peacefully and waited for the waiter to take your plates. Loki asked him politely to not disturb you anymore and the waiter nodded and left the dining area. You were completely alone now just as Loki had booked it.

“What about a dessert? You know how much I love desserts. Why did you send him away?” you pouted and Loki smiled brightly and mischievously at you.

“What are you up to, handsome?”

“Come here, sweet thing”, he commanded seductively and you stood up from your chair and rounded the table, your finger slowly trailing over the tablecloth.

“What do you want, loverboy?” You purred velvety and moved like a cat, slowly and lurkingly, prepared for any dirty little game he wanted to play with you.

“I want a dessert”, he murmured and his deep demanding voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“You once said you hate desserts…”

“Did I? Well, I said a lot of things,” and he rose from the chair, grabbed you carefully but firmly by your hips and placed you on the top of the table, staring deep into your sparkling eyes. You spread your legs for him so he could stand between them.

“Yes, you did”, and you watched him slowly unbutton his shirt completely, tugging it out of his chinos and when he finished, you yanked him closer and shamelessly touched his abs and well-toned pecs.

“Yes, I said a lot of things but there's one dessert I'd never deny”, he answered devotedly. “Keep touching me, sweet thing.”

“Here? We're in a public place, Lo. Anyone outside can see us!”

“Don't worry, I took care of that. I'd never expose you like that. No one will see or hear us. Please, keep going, my love”, and you followed his wish and let your hands explore his torso further. He obviously enjoyed it as much as you did. You knew he would never lie to you and that you were safe with him.

“What dessert is it? What does it taste like?”

Loki's answer was a devouring kiss, his tongue playing eagerly and lustfully with yours as if it were the last time he would be allowed to kiss you. His fingers played with your nipples which lay already stiff under the thin fabric of your dress. You moaned into his mouth and your upcoming wetness began to drench your panties and the tablecloth. When Loki broke the kiss you both gasped for air.

“Its taste is sweet, tempting, alluring and it beguiles my senses”, he whispered against your lips.

“Like chocolate?”

“No, like sugar but so much sweeter and I only got a hint of it so far and I definitely need more”, and he sank on his knees pulling your ass closer to him.

“You just got a hint of me on our first night together and you still remember how I taste?”

“How could I forget about that? It haunted me, sweets. Your scent, your softness, your wetness, it haunted me every night but I know it was worth the wait. Please let me have you, let me give you the pleasure I promised you.”

“Yes, show me! Put my mind at ease, Lo and take your dessert. I need you and I need your hot tongue licking that sensitive spot of mine. Please redeem me, make me forget”, you begged him desperately and he slowly shoved the skirt of your dress up to your waist and pulled impatiently at your underwear. He needed to have you and he wanted to have your taste on his tongue. He had been waiting for it for so long.

“Nice panties, sweets. But we need to get them off”, and you lifted your butt a bit so he could slide them down. He winked at you and put them into the pocket of his trousers. He looked so good on his knees and he was so beautiful it hurt.

You laid your back down on the table top when he began to pepper soft kisses to your inner thighs, inching closer and closer to the spot where you wanted him and then he finally buried his face in your crotch. He spread your legs wider and held you by your hips and with the flat of his tongue he licked gently over your clit and you shuddered in response.

“Please, don't stop…”, you murmured and sighed heavily.

“I won't, sweet thing. You taste too good to stop”, he moaned with pleasure.

Loki began to lick you quicker and harder and vigorously ate out your cunt as if he were possessed by it. You could just cry out in pure lust. Loki sucked at your throbbing clit and licked around your sensitive bud in firm circles, the tip of his tongue teasingly licking your entrance. You squirmed and writhed under his delicious torture, your back arching, your legs shaking as he brought you close to the edge. It wouldn't take you long until you would explode and you whimpered loudly when he withdrew his tongue from inside of you and stopped licking you just before you were close to your orgasm.

“Come for me, sweet thing, let go and give it all to me, give yourself to me, fully and completely”, Loki told you as his fingers ran along your clit and you clenched around nothing. You arched your hips against him and he slipped two fingers gently inside of you, curling them up and teasing your inner spot, causing you to let out a throaty moan.

“Norns, I love it when you moan for me. Let me worship you”, Loki groaned and sucked hungrily at the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He withdrew his fingers, made you lick them clean and immediately his magical lips were all over your lady parts again. You positioned your upper body on your elbows and watched him. You needed to see him, kneeling in front of you between your thighs, feeling his tongue moving furiously over your clit. It didn't take long and your much-anticipated climax washed over you.

You threw your head back and moaned deeply and after a few seconds of recovering, he was teasing you again and put his mouth back on your still swollen and sensitive clit, flicking his tongue over it and making you come for a second time. You were crying out his name, your back on the table again, your legs resting on his shoulders. Your hands grabbed his head and you raked your fingers through his thick curls. This man knew exactly what to do with his tongue. He was truly a magician.

“It felt so good, Lo. It was the best cunnilingus I ever had”, you whispered blissfully when you caught your breath again and he raised from the floor, pulled your upper body upwards flush against his chest and enveloped you in a loving embrace.

“My pleasure, sweet thing. I'm glad that you enjoyed it”, he cooed.

“I definitely did, Lo. Best dessert ever. Thank you”, you mumbled against his cheek and your lips found his to kiss him ardently.

“I hope the dessert was to your liking and you enjoyed it too”, you asked him, your hands caressing his nape, and you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him close to you.

“Ohhh yes, I absolutely did enjoy it, my love. The way you flush when I make you come, the way you throw your head back in that special moment of bliss, the way you moan for me, is so beautiful, sweets. You are beautiful and you taste so good. I can't get enough of you”, he whispered against your lips and claimed your mouth in a heated kiss. The taste of your juices and your scent were lingering on his lips and it somehow got you hot and bothered again.

“Please give me my panties back, Lo.”

“Why do you want to have it back, hm?” He purred against your soft and kiss-swollen lips.

“You already have stolen one and the one you have stolen from me just now was a gift”, you pouted sweetly. You felt so free now, worshipped and craved and you were satisfied to the core.

“A gift?” He teased, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

“Yes, a gift. It's a gift from the man I love”, you purred.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is”, and you captured his mouth by tenderly kissing him. You could still taste yourself on his soft lips.

“What if I want to keep them?” He teased further.

“For what? Why? What are you doing with them?”

“I used the other one to get some steam off, on the lonely nights when I missed you terribly and imagined you touching me, sucking me, making me moan your name. So at least I had your scent and the softness of your panties and rubbing them all over my body, and jack off and cum all over them was so arousing and satisfying”, he muttered lasciviously against the soft and sweaty flesh of your throat.

“You nasty, nasty boy”, you scolded him playfully, tugging his curls gently. Loki chuckled lightly, tilted his head and sucked and bit your earlobe tenderly. You could only make a faint groan.

“But still… I want it back. Please, Lo. You'll have me every day and night from now on. And I really love that lingerie you've given to me.” You still held him captive with your arms entwining his neck and your legs wrapped firmly around his slender waist.

“As you wish, my queen”, and immediately your panties dangled on his long index finger right before your nose.

“Thank you”, you whispered and with a quick, soft peck on the lips you took the panties off from his finger. “Can we go home now? I'd like to get back to the shelter and comfort of your cosy home and I can't wait to strip off your clothes and worship your divine body. And until then my panties stay off, just for you”, and you smiled mischievously and seductively at him.

“Can't wait to get fucked by you. Norns, you're driving me wild, sweet thing”, and he kissed you demandingly and deeply. Since he made you come twice he has been on edge.

“Let's get home then, my sweet lover, let me return the favour and make you happy.”

You two left the restaurant, entered the limousine’s backseat and asked Walker to drive you home. You were well aware of his massive boner, visibly bulging his trousers. You sat glued to him, took his hand in yours, intertwined your fingers with his and with your other hand you held him firmly by his biceps and rested your head on his shoulder and Loki rested his head on the top of yours. You inhaled his scent deeply. An alluring mixture of his expensive cologne, masculinity, arousal and that special something you still couldn't decipher. You felt his heart pounding fast when you moved your hand from his biceps to his chest and placed it in the open V of his half-buttoned shirt. You saw his cock twitching with anticipation and smiled.

“Are you aching for me, Lo?”

“Yes, you have no idea how much”, he answered devotedly and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. He then placed a finger under your chin and made you look at him. In the dim light of the limousine’s backseat, it wasn't clearly visible but you were sure there was a reddish shimmer in his eyes, slowly replacing the familiar piercing blue and his pupils were dilated with lust and desire.

This man burned for you and you would feed his flames. Tonight you would become his forever and he would become completely yours. No more fears, no more secrets.

🌹🥂🌃🌹🥃🌃🌹🥂❤️❤️🥃🌹🌃🌹🥂🌃

Taglist:

@faesimps @lokisprettygirl @gruftiela @anukulee @fandxmslxt69 @foxherder @depressedpolishgirl @buttercupcookies-blog @chantsdemarins @fictive-sl0th @justjoanne242 @km-ffluv @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lovingchoices14 @wheredafandomat @lokixryss @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger

#loki #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader angst #loki x reader smut #loki x reader fic #loki laufeyson #loki x you #loki x female reader fluff #loki x fem!reader smut #loki x female reader smut #loki x female reader angst #loki x female reader au #Spotify

[dira333]

The Soulmate Theory - Todoroki Shouto x Reader

I welcome you to my probably last-ever Soulmate fic. As much as I love reading this trope, it's gotten harder and harder to write. I hope you like it. This is for @shoulmate

Trope: You share your Soulmate's pain.

Soulmates used to be a thing. 

A long, long time ago, way before the first ever Quirk was documented, Soulmate bonds were just as common as Quirks are nowadays.

Your grandmother used to be fascinated by it, told you stories about her grandmother who was convinced she shared a soulmate bond even though not one case had been documented in the last hundred years before her.

It’s only natural, you’d say, that you didn’t realize you had one. After all, why would you think that?

-

Pain has always been part of your life.

Your wrists hurt and your legs hurt and your back hurts and your stomach hurts… all the time. The doctors cannot find anything, some even accuse you of pretending for attention. You’d gladly trade all that attention against a pain-free day.

Your Quirk’s Telekinesis and you’re so glad about it, because how else would you be able to move that pen and write that notes when your hands hurt like this?

You’re getting better at it too, threading a needle or picking up the last grain of rice with your thoughts alone. 

-

A dull ache has settled behind your left eye after what has been the most intense pain flare you’ve ever had. All you want to do is rest. 

But your mind is reeling, craving an outlet for all the thoughts inside your head.

Your restless eyes find some fabric in the corner of the room. Soon enough a few needles are working their magic, a creation coming to life before your eyes.

You might not be able to walk around most days, but at least you can still create outfits you’d love to flaunt in.

-

Years later

-

“Can you take over my student?” Kameko asks, “He wants a completely new costume.”

“What year?”

“First year. And his old one wasn’t even destroyed.”

“So? Maybe he found something out about himself.”

She huffs. “Please? I still have to finish Amajiki’s new design and you know how anxious he gets.”

“Yeah, no problem. Can you take another first year off my plate then? His name is Midoriya and he ripped it in half, it seems.”

“Oh yeah, give it to me.”

Someone clears their throat. You look up from your work into a set of heterochromatic eyes, one blue, one grey.

“Yes?” You ask. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here for my new Costume.”

“Are you Midoriya?” You point at the green fabric on your desk, or rather what’s left of the costume.”

“No, I’m Todoroki Shouto.”

“Ah,” Kameko doesn’t even look guilty at being caught. “You’re with her then. Do you need the think tank?” She points at the cubicle where you can go and plan outfits.

Todoroki looks like he isn’t quite sure, so you carefully slide off your chair and shuffle over.

“Come, come,” you wave at him, “It’s never wrong to brainstorm.”

“Are you hurt?” He asks and has the decency not to point at how you clearly favor your left leg. 

“Not more than usual,” you try to joke and though he looks a little confused, he doesn’t ask more questions.

.

Todoroki is a quiet individual. He’s not shy, that you perceive immediately, but he makes sure to check if he’s allowed to speak before he opens his mouth.

He’s also insanely pretty, the red, rough skin over his left eye giving him even more appeal. But he’s also one year younger than you, so you keep those thoughts locked away in the back of your head.

“If you want to change the design, we can do that, no problem.” You remind him when you’ve finally found something he seems almost happy with.

“I don’t want to cause you more work.”

“If you don’t cause me any work I’d have nothing to do,” you joke and he looks at you quietly for a while. You wonder if he’s ruminating over your joke or waiting for you to talk on and sadly, you’re more than likely to ramble in a confusing silence.

You gesture, somehow now talking about the importance of fresh orange juice for the human body, a topic you didn’t even know you could talk about beforehand when your hand connects harshly with the door behind you. Your wrist catches the doorknob and the pain is immediate, sharp and cool, like you’d imagine being stabbed with an icicle would feel like.

Todoroki hisses behind you and you’d compliment him on the empathy if it wouldn’t hurt like that.

When you turn, hand pressed against your chest, he’s cradling his own hand before dropping it. “Musclespasm,” he explains quietly, offering you a hand that is covered in ice. “Do you want me to cool it? It helps.”

-

“I’d like to add some more details to my costume,” Todoroki approaches you with a Bento Box in hand.

You nod, unable to speak for a moment as you focus your Quirk on a particularly tough seam.

“No problem, as I said. What’s it about?”

“Could we use the think tank?”

You turn to check but it’s clearly occupied.

“Sadly not. Is it more complicated then?” You nod at the Bento Box. “Do you think it will keep us occupied during lunch break?”

“No, this is���” Todoroki hesitates for a second before holding it out to you. “It’s just something I wanted to give you. My sister made these.”

 You open it with curious fingers to reveal twelve perfectly shaped cookies.

“That’s lovely, but why me?”

His cheeks turn pink and his lips curl into an adorable pout before he eventually talks.

“I mentioned that I was pleased with the changes and she told me to say thank you.”

“Aww,” you coo. “Your older sister then?”

“Yes,” the pout exaggerates, “I would have said thank you without her intervening.”

“Of course you’d have.” - “But my cookies didn’t turn out good.”

You both speak at the same time, or rather you accidentally interrupted him and he still talked on.

You stare at him now, mouth agape as you process his words.

“You made cookies for me?”

“Yes,” Todoroki nods, “I wanted to say thank you.”

“It’s my job.”

“I still want to say thank you.”

“Next time,” you joke, not quite realizing what you’re saying until it has left your lips and your brain has caught on, “just bring me the Cookies you made. It’s the thought that counts.”

He stares at you with wide eyes for what feels like eternity before a soft pink blush blooms on his cheeks.

You hide your own face in the box of Cookies, hope that he won’t hear the thunderous beating of your heart over the noise of you eating one.

They’re delicious. Of course they are.

-

You don’t know how or when or even why, but clearly, there’s a friendship growing between you and Todoroki Shouto. He’s stopped claiming he’s only dropping in for new additions to his costumes and in turn you’ve tried quite a few of his food creations, each one of them worse than the last.

But he’s cute and honest and real about it and you couldn’t do better if you tried anyway.

Your pain, however, doesn’t stop just because you’ve found work you enjoy or friends to spend your time with.

There are days where you cannot get out of bed. Days where strong painkillers allow you to get to school only for everything to go past you because those painkillers leave you loopy and tired, falling asleep over some costume in the early afternoon hours.

At least you’re not in the Hero Course, you think on the worst days, because you’ve seen the bruises Training leaves on Shouto’s arms and legs.

That’s before you realize that Training is the least of all his problems.

-

Third Year

“How are you?” You ask, because what else do you ask your Crush Slash Good Friend you haven’t seen in months?

Shouto’s got new scars, he’s grown, and he’s fought in a war while you were bedridden from pain, your mother scared out of her depths that you’d die in an attack, unable to move.

But you survived and so did he and if you can believe what you’ve heard on the news, he’s found out some things about his family too.

“Tired,” he admits, dragging a hand through his hair, “I missed you.”

You wonder how hard it was for him to admit that. 

 “Think tank?” You ask, slipping off your chair when he nods.

The last few days have been painless and even though you’re anxious about what’s to come after that, you can’t help but enjoy it.

When the door closes after him, you realize just how small that cubicle really is. 

Or maybe it’s just that Shouto doesn’t step away like he used to do, staying so close to you that you could count every single one of his long lashes if you wanted to.

“Can I hug you?” He asks and you nod, unable to say anything, even less when he pulls you in.

He’s tall and strong, cool on one side and warm on the other and your face nuzzles into his neck like it was meant to be like that anyway.

You don’t speak for a while, just hold each other in the semi-privacy this room provides.

“I want to take care of you,” Shouto whispers at some point. “Can I?”

Somehow it doesn’t surprise anyone that you two end up dating.

-

Your third year is almost painless.

Sure, there are frequent days where you’re sore for no reason whatsoever, but that is nothing against the blinding pain that had tied you to a bed for weeks before. 

Sometimes, Shouto pouts about that. He thinks it’s his job as your boyfriend to look after you and what good is he for if you don’t need looking after?

His friends tell you that he’s less reckless now - as if he’d ever been - making sure to keep himself safe because you need him.

You’ve met his sister, one of his older brothers and his mother, all of them nice, though maybe a bit distanced. 

Emotional vulnerability doesn’t seem to come easy to them.

Shouto, however, likes to talk about his feelings in depth. And he wants to know how you’re feeling too, listening with wide eyes as you explain.

Should it be weird that you’re dating someone younger than you? If so, you’re doing it wrong. 

-

The first(?) hint

“Do we need anything from the store?” You ask, phone crammed between your ear and shoulder as you grab your stuff from the passenger seat.

“I was going to get the groceries,” Shouto huffs on the other side of the call and you can see it, how he pouts at the thought that you’re doing it instead of him.

“I was already on my way. You can do the laundry.”

“I hate doing the laundry,” he groans and you giggle. “I know. I’m going to help you with it, don’t worry.”

“I could cook,” he offers and you giggle again, opening the door to step out. “As much as I love you, Shouto, I don’t love your cooking.”

“Fine,” he says, sounding exactly like a child that didn’t get its way, “But we do face-masks while doing the laundry.”

“Of course. I’ll call you back later, okay? I need both hands for shopping.”

“Sure. I’ll buy you more headphones in the meantime.”

There are a few more teasing remarks, a last “I love you” and then you shove your phone back in your purse and turn to where you think the shopping carts are located.

You don’t see the step in front of you before it’s too late and then you’re tumbling through the air. It happens slowly and then all at once and you’re not really sure what hurt first and what hurts the most. 

For a moment you’re just lying there, face down on the pavement, trying not to puke, collecting your thoughts as if they scattered on your floor just like your open purse.

Your phone starts ringing and that seems the most manageable task so you pick it up from right in front of you and press it against your ear.

“Yes?” You ask.

“Love, are you okay?” Shouto sounds worried.

“No, I just tripped and fell,” you pick your head up from the asphalt and squint at your stuff in front of you, “in the middle of the parking lot.”

“Just after you hung up I felt a lot of pain and I just… I knew it was you.” 

-

It keeps happening after that.

It doesn’t help that you’re clumsy, but maybe that’s for the best now, as you try and figure out this weird coincidence.

If you hurt yourself, Shouto feels the pain.

If Shouto hurts himself, you feel the pain. 

It’s only after he almost gets buried by a collapsing building that you actually tell a Doctor. Or rather Midoriya unloads all the Data he has collected on the poor, unassuming Recovery Girl.

The most likely answer, as strange as it might sound, is the Soulmate Theory.

“Since you’re the first documented case in hundreds of years we don’t have anything to prove this theory. But I’m quite positive that more cases will follow.”

You blink back at her, not quite understanding. Shouto’s left hand, one of the few places of his that are not covered in bandages, squeezes yours.

“You know what that means, right?” He asks.

“Yeah. We’re most definitely never going to break up.”

His eyes widen in a way you’ve grown familiar with. No matter how long you’ve been dating, you still seem to be able to surprise him.

“No,” he presses out weakly, “I meant… That all the pain you went through as a child and teenager, that was me. It’s my fault.”

You lean down to press a kiss to the little spot above his eyebrows that has come away unscathed.

“I’m not saying it was nice, but if I could take at least a little bit of the pain you went through, I’d say it was worth it.”

-

You’re pretty sure Shouto would disagree, but in your eyes Soulmates are not quite as fancy as they’re made out to be.

After all, you found him on your own, didn’t you?

#my writing #shouto todoroki #todoroki shouto #shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki fluff #mha x reader #mha fluff #mha #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha fluff

[gomapda]

sidewalks we crossed [side B: him.] (pt. 1)

this is broken into parts because tumblr has a limit of 1000 blocks.

side A found here!

author's note:

oh goodness. it's been a while.

i really did intend on posting this soon after i published the first part, but then life kind of got in the way. i graduated from grad school, moved to south korea, and have been here since. i'm still a carat, and i really do think about this fanfiction all the time, mainly because this story is truly me bearing my soul to the internet and my friends who have access to the original google doc.

this one is a lot less edited and looked over, but it's because this portion of the fic reminds me of something i'm still in deep grief for. so, for those of you who will read this, i was originally going to have a third installment, but i think i'll leave it at this two. it feels good and true to leave it here.

this was supposed to be published yesterday on seventeen's anni, but i was busy spending time with my korean host family who i've not been able to see that often since moving out :')

maybe i'll write short stories including these two because they are so special to me, but this main story has come to a close. the real final push was jihoon releasing "what kind of future?" officially, the very song that inspired this fic, in honor of his beautiful friend and human, moonbin. bin-ah, i hope you're sailing among the stars and looking over all of those who love you and who you love in return.

and to you, who may be reading this, thank you for being here.

✧⋆°｡☾☼꙳ ੭ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ‧ ⨯ ς(>‿<.). ⁺ ✦ * . ˚ ⨯ ੭ * ‧☼☽⋆｡°✧

tagging @fiantomartell since you asked me to whenever i published this. it's been a long while, but.

pairing: lee jihoon/woozi (seventeen) x f!reader

genre: romance, fluff

summary: an accidental like, an off-chance comment, a purposeful message. you were in an unrequited love with your childhood best friend and decided to run away from him and your feelings and years later you find yourself in the same city with the same feelings when he stalks your instagram.

rating: 13+

length: 30k (bro WHAT LOL)

tags: idol!jihoon, childhood friend!reader, unrequited love (but not really), reconnection through instagram, this is just different scenes pieced together (including a ton of flashbacks), reader’s nicknames are all bug-themed, reader has depression and it manifests as suicidal ideation sometimes, this is basically real life (aka seventeen exists and debuted 150526), but the years are a little bit off for the trainee period, jihoon left busan later and trained for shorter for the sake of my story hehe, cursing, pining, mamamoo + ateez are the besties of reader, member x member pairings, jihoon and reader are both dumbasses, reader is extremely book smart but has one brain cell when it comes to romantic feelings, jihoon writes music like he’s been divorced 12x, word genius lee jihoon, idk how doctoral degrees work, i only got my masters and it was a non-thesis track lol, also idk how trainee auditions work either, miss communication is a lady we all know too well, super cute soft shit too tho tbh, no beta we die like men, i spent 5 hours trying to format this for tumblr and i’m still unsure

inspired by “drivers license” by olivia rodrigo and “what kind of future?” by woozi

inspo spotify playlist found here!

──────────────────

side b: him.

The rapid beating in his chest drowned out the slam of the door behind him as he rushed down the stairs of your home, desperate to just get away as soon as possible. Your parents weren’t home, so he didn’t have to worry about looking like an absolute fool in front of them.

You knew. You fucking knew.

You knew how much he was in love with you and this was your way of rejecting him.

He was stupid, so stupid. If he just put his feelings aside then you wouldn’t leave. You wouldn’t have to leave. But this was all his stupid hormones and brain chemistry and his fucking heart. He knew that it wouldn’t pan out. You never saw him as anything more than just a dear friend, a brother. You made that clear.

Since the beginning, your pinkies intertwined promised a forever, but you both had different ideas of what that was. And he was stupid to believe there was a chance.

He ran.

He ran so far and so hard that he couldn’t make sense of left or right or forward or backward. All he knew was that he needed to get away from you.

But he couldn’t.

He passed by Old Man Park’s home with a winding tree you were convinced held fae people that would only come out when the entire town was asleep (there was a 50km radius, you said).

He ran by the rusted bars of the playground you two snuck off to instead of going to cram school where you attempted a flip and promptly landed on the crown of your head, wood chips tangling themselves into your hair, tears mixed with laughter and pain streaming down your cheeks.

The library where you would spend more time in the children’s section than anywhere else because you would practice your ‘reading voice’ for your future children’s bedtime stories.

The baseball field where the realization that he was in love with you hit him harder than any fastball pitch ever could.

You were everywhere.

And he needed to get away.

He went to your house to share the news of passing the trainee audition, that was the whole purpose of seeing you.

However, that wasn’t the only thing he planned on confessing.

If you asked him to stay, he would have.

But instead, you rejected him before he even got one word out.

So, he packed his bags up for Seoul, a place untarnished by you. A city that not even your light could reach, no matter how radiant you were.

──────────────────

Years later.

“Jihoon-ah, aren’t you working too hard?”

He glanced up at Jeonghan who was probably let into the studio by Bumzu. Jihoon glanced at the clock to notice a bright 4:02am glaring back at him. “Ah, hyung. I didn’t even notice the time.”

“I figured. I brought you some food.”

Jihoon glanced down at the two bags in his hands. His eyes narrowed. “Hyung, I don’t eat as much as you think I do.”

“I’ve seen you eat three full meals in one sitting. Get away from your desk and we can eat.”

Jihoon sighed before he reluctantly left the seat he hardly moved from for over seven hours. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Jeonghan replied happily, snapping the wooden chopsticks into two. He started chewing on one of the danmuji, the sound of its crunch reverberating in the studio. “Oh. And also, the wi-fi’s down at the dorm, so.”

“So, you’re here to steal my bandwidth.”

“I brought you food. I paid my toll.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “Alright, sure.”

“So, are you in the composing stage or the writing lyrics stage?”

“...Lyrics.”

“Hm. What are you writing about? Or rather, who are you writing about?”

Jihoon stabbed the grilled fish. “...You know who.”

“She’s really got a grip on you, huh.”

Jihoon grunted in response. Obviously.

Jeonghan continued, “I saw that one of the local newsletters interviewed the group home that she volunteers at. She was voted as volunteer of the year. Again. She smiles with her entire body. Seems like a good person.”

The younger of the two picked away at the fish, not bringing it onto his makeshift plate. “Yeah.”

“Do you still stalk her on Instagram?”

Jihoon let out a loud sigh.

“That’s a yes, then.”

“You know it’s not as bad as it used to be. I used to check, like, every few weeks, but now it’s gone down to just a couple times a year.”

“She hasn’t blocked you yet?”

“Hah. I don’t think she even knows that my account is reactivated.”

“Well, you never needed to reactivate before. Her Instagram used to be public. The rest of the members and I used to scroll through wondering how a bright girl like her could be associated with such a deadpan guy like you.”

“Wow. Thanks, hyung.”

Jeonghan merely brushed off Jihoon’s sarcasm, already used to it. “She only made it private this last year, right? Since she complains about her program being out to kill her on her story. To be honest, I’m surprised she didn’t realize you’ve been watching her stories.”

“I don’t think she checks who watches her story since she has over a few thousand followers.”

“She attracts people, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, she always has.”

“Can I see her profile again?”

“You’re not going to do something weird, right?”

“Ey, Jihoon-ah.”

“That makes me really not want to.”

“Ey.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes before pulling out his phone. He opened Instagram and clicked on the “Search” feature and saw your profile appear at the top without even needing to type anything. He signaled for Jeonghan to scoot down the couch so he could sit down and handle the phone in his own hands. Jeonghan peered over his shoulder as he scrolled through your profile.

“Oh, is that Japan?”

“Yeah.”

Jihoon clicked on your post.

But it wasn’t opening.

So, he clicked again. And then again.

And his phone decided to catch up with his thumb’s movements.

The once white heart was now red.

His grip loosened on the device of betrayal and it clattered to the ground. “Oh shit.”

Jeonghan bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. He placed his hand on Jihoon’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. “I’m sorry, but. This is karma for not letting me see her profile on my own.”

“Hyung. Hyung. What should I do?”

“Just unlike it? I’m pretty sure that Instagram doesn’t send a notification as long as you unlike it before she sees it.”

“How do you know?”

Jeonghan shrugged. “Jihoon. It’s not the end of the world if she happens to see it. If she blocks you, then you know, and you end up writing another heartbreak masterpiece—” Jihoon couldn’t even appreciate the comment. “—but. Who knows what’ll happen?”

“...”

“Uh. I’ll just… do it for you, then.”

Jeonghan picked up the phone, facing the screen towards Jihoon, the camera scanning his frozen features to unlock and Jeonghan tapped the red heart to empty it again. He placed the phone back on the younger man’s thigh, but Jihoon remained in the same position as earlier, eyes glazed.

“Jihoon-ah.”

“Hyung.”

“Let’s just wait, yeah? The food’s getting cold. So, let’s finish eating.”

“...Okay.”

──────────────────

Jihoon picked at the rice bowl in front of him, his mind light years away, chest filled with concern for the future. Was auditioning for a company worth it? Even if he started the process now, wouldn’t it still take a while to even hear back?

“Jihoonie.”

His heart constricted once he heard the voice of the person who made him unsure. He caught you blinking owlishly at him. “Y/N.”

“Hrmm. You seem quite a bit down, my friend. You’ve barely touched your first bowl of rice. It’s concerning.”

“Just thinking.”

“Oh, don’t do that. We know that usually ends badly for people.”

“Well, someone between the two of us has to have brain cells.”

“I pride myself in simultaneously never thinking and also being the top student of our school.”

“You work miracles, Y/N.”

“Hey, now I know you’re down because you didn’t call me a flipping nerd. Your best moods are usually accompanied by your worst words.”

“You make me seem like an asshole. You slander me to other people, don’t you?”

“Of course. I can’t have them know just how utterly wonderful and fantastic you are. I’d rather you have that butthole reputation if I get to keep my best friend all to myself. I’m a selfish lady, you know.”

Did you even know how much your words affected him?

“You’re neither selfish nor a lady.”

“Oh, but I am. I’m a selfish lady who’s only checking on you because I refuse to be wrought with worry for the rest of the day. So, come on, Jihoonie. Let’s go play darts.”

“Last time we played you almost stabbed my hand.”

“Your fault for reaching for the board when I was about to own you. Come on. Let’s go. I’ll make a pinky promise with you.”

Jihoon snorted. “Of what?”

“I promise to do whatever you want if you win.”

Jihoon scrunched up his nose in response. You were always so naive with him, trusting him wholly. But a part of him was grateful that you did. He merely sighed and stood up.

He might as well use your promise to his advantage.

──────────────────

“She didn’t block me.”

“Oh, really?” Jeonghan glanced up at Jihoon who suddenly broke the silence.

“Who’s she?” Soonyoung’s ears perked up.

“You know. His firefly,” Jeonghan replied.

“What? Why would she block you?” Seungkwan directed his question at Jihoon, who was simply trying to edit lyrics in his own studio, which was being occupied by several SEVENTEEN members.

“Jihoon accidentally liked one of her posts last night, but we unliked it. Oh, sorry. I unliked it because he was completely frozen.”

“The notification probably didn’t go through,” Seungkwan supplied. “I’m pretty sure unliking a post makes the notification go away.”

Jihoon had set his phone aside earlier in hopes of not constantly checking it. His mind may be unsteady, but he was always self-disciplined.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Soonyoung glance down at his own phone screen that buzzed a second prior.

“Oh. Jihoon-ah, she liked one of your posts.”

Before his mind could even catch up, Jihoon flung himself to his phone, his self-discipline be damned. He frantically clicked on the notification and it redirected him to his Instagram page, where he saw your name among the list of likers. He wasn’t sure whether his heart was racing or whether it stopped completely because the buzzing in his ears overtook all of his other senses.

He even ignored the boys’ laughter around him.

“Is… Is social media actually facilitating real connection right now? Are we about to prove all of the ahjussi and ahjumma wrong? Are we about to witness history?”

“Seungkwan-ah.”

“Sorry, Jeonghan-hyung.”

“She… She didn’t block me. She saw me. What is this? What do I do? Do I just ignore it? Or should I let her know I saw it?”

Soonyoung snorted. “Yah, I’ve never seen Jihoon this nervous for any performance ever.”

“His heart’s probably racing more than it did the Golden Disc Awards.”

“WHAT DO I DO.”

“Jihoon-hyung,” Seungkwan started. “I think the first thing you need to do is breathe.”

So, he did. In. Out. In. Out.

After what seemed like years, Soonyoung spoke up. “So… Are you gonna message her?”

Jihoon sat in contemplation for a moment before he decidedly shook his head. “No. It’s time to write a song.”

Soonyoung’s eyebrows rose at that. “You’re gonna go back to work after all of this?”

Jihoon bit his lip. “No. This is gonna be a solo song.”

The corners of Jeonghan’s lips curled up at his dongsaeng. “I’m sure it’ll be beautiful.”

Jihoon nodded almost mindlessly.

Everything about her usually is.

──────────────────

“Jihoonie~ Wake up~”

He groaned loudly under the bed covers.

He heard you snicker, the only warning before you landed with a loud thump as he let out an “oof!” from beneath you.

“Get off me. You weigh like a million pounds.”

Rather than listening, you spread your limbs and trapped the adolescent boy beneath you, nuzzling further into the outer casing of his cocoon. “Nope. Just yesterday you yelled at me for not eating enough when you flung me off of the couch by accident because I stole the remote. So.”

“I’m suffocating. You’re killing your best friend.”

“Oh, but to die with a beautiful girl on top of you, isn’t that the way to go?”

There was a moment of silence where Jihoon contemplated catapulting your entire being off of his bed before, “Pretty sure that’s your dream, you damn pervert,” came his muffled reply.

“Huh. You might be right there.”

“Get! Off!”

His hand easily found your weak point between your first and second rib and you cried out as you toppled down onto his bedroom floor. He emerged from the confines of his sheets with hair sticking up every which way.

You grinned lazily up at his disheveled state and he glared right back at you. “Why are you in my bedroom?”

“Because your mom said to come and get you! We’re going to Muju today, remember? In time for the Firefly Festival!”

“Right. It’s your yearly family reunion.”

“Yes, I will become one with the bugs. My fursona will arise again. Or is it bugsona?”

“Is a buggy better than a furry?”

“You’re asking me to choose between two evils, my dear Jihoonie. Come on, get up. I’m excited to spend an entire weekend with our family.”

It was way too early for his mind to whirr as fast as it did at the simple implication of ‘our’. “Alright, firefly. Get out of my room so I can get ready.”

“Okay! I’ll go help Mama downstairs.”

You were committed to calling Jihoon’s mom as Mama instead of Eomma, as the latter held a tone for you that was nothing less than stressful.

Jihoon smiled at your joy, but stopped when he noticed you freeze in place. “...What?”

You shifted the weight in your feet before speaking. “Mm. Just had a thought. With a smile like yours, who would ever need the summertime?”

You grinned at him while his heart stopped. You always spoke without a care in the world; never carefully crafting your thoughts before speaking them aloud. You were spontaneous. Wild, even. Sometimes it ended with you in some kind of trouble, while other times, like this one, ended with him in trouble instead.

You scurried out of his room before he could respond.

He released a dragged out sigh as he felt his cheeks warm.

Forget summertime.

He wondered whether the earth could be sustained through all of the seasons at the sheer brilliance of your smile.

But he ought to thank the summertime.

Because it meant, every year, without fail, he would wake up to you, he would smell the breakfast you helped his mother cook, he would hop on a plane to travel to a different province and see the night sky alight with hundreds of fireflies, your face aglow with soft awe and wonder.

Yeah.

He needed the summertime.

──────────────────

“What? Jihoon-hyung is talking to the girl that just upped and left him and fled the country?”

“Chan-ah, your wording needs work,” Seungcheol chastised. The other members that were near enough to hear nodded, while others were distracted by their own activities.

Jihoon buried his face in his hands. “Eugh, I don’t even know anymore. It’s not like we’re actually talking; she just reliked one of my posts. It’s like, she went back and let me know that she saw me. But is that supposed to be a warning? Is it supposed to be a white flag?”

The youngest member of SEVENTEEN shrugged. “Hyung, I think that you’re putting a lot of meaning behind something that was just a small gesture.”

“Nah, Chan,” Seungcheol interjected. “Jihoon has been in love with this girl since he was a kid. This is more than just a small gesture, after what she did to him.”

Wonwoo spoke up. “Hey, don’t forget Jihoon was the one who left Busan first.”

The accused groaned.

“Wonwoo, you’re just biased towards her because you think that she and Jihoon would make a good couple and you believe in an ideal love.”

“Hyung, I just think that if Jihoon can write what he writes about her, there’s something there.”

“You romanticist.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Jihoon-ah, I think you’ve tried to reach her with your words time and time again, but maybe it was never made clear that she was the one it was for. You mentioned that she really thought you were in love with your noona—” Jihoon grimaced at the memory. “—so, maybe she’s just unaware.”

“She can’t be that oblivious,” Soonyoung interrupted. Jihoon knew Soonyoung was almost fiercely protective over him because he was the one who witnessed Jihoon’s aftermath firsthand. Soonyoung may be over-the-top some days, but whenever Jihoon needed it, he would help ground him.

Wonwoo’s eyes flicked between the two of his fellow 96ers. “We were all kids once, Soonyoung. We were all so focused on ourselves we couldn’t really see what was happening around us.”

Soonyoung pursed his lips. “...I guess. Jihoon, what do you think?”

Jihoon stared at his hands. “Does it matter whether she knew back then or not?”

They all collectively raised a brow.

“Whattaya mean?” Seungcheol asked.

“I can make a ton of assumptions about her. That she was actually in love with me and was scared. That she was rejecting me in her own cruel, yet kind, way. That she had no idea and the timing was just completely off. But all of that, I don’t actually know. All I do know is that… I want to see her. And not just from afar anymore. But part of me also hates her. But all of me misses her. I don’t know. I guess I’m just too stupid to figure this out.”

A heavy silence passed over the group.

Soonyoung broke it. “If you’re stupid, then I’m the biggest idiot on this planet.”

“That’s not comforting, that’s just a fact.”

“Hoon, you wound me.”

──────────────────

Award shows were weird.

At first, everything was an out-of-body experience for him and could barely process what was happening. He even couldn’t believe that he and his twelve members managed to earn their matching pinky rings and the right to produce and perform, let alone be nominated for an award. When they went on the stage, they did their best to be as refreshing of idols as they could be.

But it was much more daunting than they were used to.

Their debut year went by, and although there were many nominations, they remained only that.

In middle school, he would often tell you that you had a strange fixation on being number one in your graduating class. He said that he didn’t get it, that being in the top 5 was already something that was admirable.

He would never forget the look you gave him when you said, “One day, you’ll know what it’s like. You’ll know what it’s like to almost have something and then not. It’s the kind of feeling that eats away at you, Jihoon. The feeling of, ‘But what if I did more?’”

He merely rolled his eyes and called you dramatic.

That is, until he experienced it firsthand.

The first time ever was when he was doing a music competition for clarinet and compared himself to his bandmate, who received several achievements while Jihoon found that he simply didn’t have the body to be able to hold the same lung capacity.

Then he felt it: that driving force.

You both pushed yourselves further, to higher heights.

And it ended with him sick and bedridden.

And you, heartbroken and unsure of life.

The two of you would reprimand each other for trying too hard, but even with accountability, that envy, that desire for an indisputable win, that fear of failure, would still sneak its way into you both. You, with your academics. Him, with his musical endeavors.

For several years after their debut, at award shows, Jihoon would clap, the rhythmic beating of his hands echoing that in his chest, his smile lined with bitterness, his ears rang with the whispered voices.

‘Those people didn’t deserve it. You worked so much harder. These people don’t even produce their own music. Or maybe it’s because they have real producers and composers, unlike you. Who are you to think you deserve that award?’

One night, after another show of no wins, he collapsed onto his bed, unlocking his phone, intent on watching an anime episode before falling asleep. His members were discouraged and no one wanted to discuss what more they could even do.

Even if they did everything right, maybe it still would never be good enough.

When he opened up the YouTube app on his phone, he saw a recommended video. Your name written out in English caught his eye and he realized it was Part II of a podcast you had done with the channel before. It was a Korean-American podcast and you would share your experiences in the Korean language, connecting with your culture despite being in a foreign country.

Before he could think about what he was doing, he clicked on it, hoping to find comfort in a person he always had, in someone he probably always would.

Several minutes in and he realized just how thick that red string must be between the two of you.

“You know, I thought I undid a lot of my perfectionism before coming to college. Korea is the birthplace of comparison and pressure, I’m sure of it. It was ingrained into me from childhood. So, I did what I could. I got out. Learned to broaden my horizons. But when you attend a school like Yale, your environment really just kinda forces you to be perfect just so that you can survive. Because if you’re not, then you’re cut.”

He thought back to his trainee days.

To his current days.

How similar.

“I remember being at an event where we were being presented awards for our achievements. I remember that I was in the running for one of them, and I won’t say which one so this doesn’t come back to bite me. But at this one event, I remember no other guests were invited, only the nominees and peers in the same field. And when they announced the winner, everyone applauded, of course. However, I won’t ever forget the sight that I saw.”

You chewed on your lips, gazing upward trying to find the right words to say, a habit you’ve had for years.

“The winner had the biggest grin on their face, proud of themselves, as they are allowed to be. But when they turned back to the crowd? I think they saw something. I think they saw that our smiles were forced, that we were judging them, judging ourselves, trying to determine whether they actually deserved the recognition or whether we should have been the ones to win. And… their smile faltered. It was quick, but it was noticeable. And I think the only reason why it even faltered was because it was only those of us who were nominated or could have been. Like, it’s easy to cheer on someone for a prize that you didn’t want, but as soon as you have stakes in the game? Well. That’s a whole different story. But when they lost that smile, it felt like something shattered.”

Your eyes welled up with tears, but they didn’t fall.

“They say it’s lonely at the top. I haven’t been there in a long time, but. I don’t even know if that’s where I want to be. These people have done super cool things, and who’s to say that I would’ve gotten the same results if I had tried? And maybe, maybe they have enough competitors. Maybe they need someone who celebrates them. Someone who knows the hardships of working in this field. And maybe that’s what I can do. I just want to do what I love and what I love doing is social work. Celebrating other people. Learning their stories. Not saving the world, but trying to make it into one that might be worth saving. If I happen to get recognized because of doing those things and they give some kind of trophy for it, then alright. But that’s just a byproduct of the greatest award I’ve already given myself, which is just letting myself do what I love.”

And those were words he carried with him as he went to bed that night. 

When they won their first award. Their first Bonsang. Their first Daesang.

Award shows were weird.

It was all about performance.

Performing on stage, prepped through sound-check, clean-cut choreography, and pre-recorded live vocals to grab the audience’s attention.

Performing when at their designated table, giving reactions at a timely rate for both the fancams and large screen cameras.

Performing when behind the stage, being the best hoobae or sunbae they needed to be, adapting to whatever situation they may be placed in.

He knew how to perform. He was good at it.

It was why he’s in this industry.

But there are some things that don’t warrant worrying about an audience.

As he watched the seven members of BTS walk towards the stage, reaching for their Daesang. He clapped to match the rhythm in his chest, sure and steady, at ease. His smile, genuine and wide. The voice in his head, not unlike yours mixed with his own, provided gentle comfort.

‘They deserved it. They worked hard, just like you did. Their ability to collaborate with other musicians is astounding. It would be an honor to work with them. And you, too, have won, you’ve given yourself the greatest award by continuing to do what you love.’

──────────────────

Jihoon once again found himself at the recording studio, however, at a more reasonable time. He was trying to finalize all of the details on the songs for their comeback album, so he was spending his days in the recording studio and ending it in the dance studio, fully exhausted to where he would only have enough energy to shower and trudge back to his bedroom, just to pass out on his bed.

He heard the door to his room open but didn’t make an effort to turn around.

“How’s the song coming along?”

“The album is nearly complete—”

“No, the solo one.”

Jihoon finally glanced up at Seungcheol who now stood beside him. “I haven’t had as much time to work on it. Why?”

“No, I just wanted to check in with you.”

“You’re a good leader, hyung,” he said quietly.

Seungcheol clicked his tongue. “Of course, I am. But I’m mostly just curious because you’ve never written a song about her specifically that only had you singing it.”

“…that’s not true.”

“What? Which one?”

“The first song I ever wrote.”

“Oh what? What was it?”

Jihoon shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s an old song that I think only I remember anyway, plus, I only had vocals at the time. No instruments or anything.”

“…huh. What was it about?”

──────────────────

You wiped your snot away from your face, unable to differentiate between mucus and tears. Your unrelenting sobs weakened to light shudders.

His voice carried from above you, his hand entangled in your messy knots as he rubbed soothing circles against your temple. You curled yourself further into the tear-stained pillow he so lovingly dubbed, “Y/N’s Breakdown Headrest” which also doubled as “Y/N’s Punching Bag” when your emotions were forged from fire and not a dam that couldn’t hold anymore of the taunts and cruelty from your own parents.

His thigh was a mere hair’s breadth away from grazing the top of your head. He had a tendency to bounce his leg, one you continuously called him out on, but he wouldn’t ever stop his bad habit.

That is, unless you needed him to.

And he always gave you what you needed.

So, he sang to you a song of hopes and dreams and the magic of forever and always. Lyrics of never-ending friendship and pinky promises.

──────────────────

Jihoon paused, wondering how you comforted yourself now, wondering if you now had a Breakdown Headrest 2.0, before he spoke again. “It’s about what all the songs I write are about. Love. Although, more lowkey, not as direct.”

“Love and her are synonymous to you, aren’t they?”

“She’s the one who taught me most of it,” Jihoon said nonchalantly. “A truly honest and genuine form of it.”

“Wow, how romantic of you,” Seungcheol laughed.

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “I’m letting you know I only have the patience to tolerate all of you guys because of her. She believes it’s her divine mission to be as annoying as possible.”

“She sounds terrifying.”

“Yeah, she’s taught me how to be patient and remain calm. But she was also incredibly patient with me. Honestly, it feels like all the things that make me likable are all from her.”

Seungcheol made a “oOooOooOOOooOOooo~” noise before Jihoon got fed up and kicked him out. Of course, his reprieve was short lived as more and more members flocked into his room, a constant moving traffic of his twelve brothers.

He imagined you meeting them.

With Seungcheol, you would probably tease him relentlessly, trying to come up with new names for the S. Coups game, while also thanking him for being so protective and steadfast, praising him for his taste in emo music and asking him to sing My Chemical Romance with you.

With Jeonghan, you both would sneak off to devise plans on how to create chaotic dynamics in between the members and cause more infighting while eating stolen snacks or spend hours just sitting around, doing fuck all, because why not.

With Jisoo, you both would speak in English (with you affectionately calling him by his English name “Joshua!”), sharing music as well as probably arguing between Los Angeles and New York, since that was a common feud topic Jisoo brought up.

With Jun, you would try to get as many reactions out of him as possible or get him to write down the list of all of the authentic Chinese restaurants around Korea or you would sit with him at a piano and watch as he played OSTs to Chinese dramas, applauding all the while starry-eyed.

With Soonyoung, you both would either be each other’s soulmates or the banes of each others’ existence, both fiery and passionate; however, you were always good at matching the energies of those around you, so you would let him ebb and flow while you merely followed, likely to call him, “Hoshingi,” just as Jeonghan does, and you would probably love caring for him the same way you did with elementary school students.

With Wonwoo, you would watch him play his PC games, probably in awe of his prowess or you would discuss lyricism and poetry, both exchanging flowery words for no reason as you would try to pick his brain as to what really lies beneath the surface, whether he truly is as straightforward as he seems, and be intensely satisfied that he simply is as he is.

With Seokmin, likely to sweetly call him “DK~”, you would ask him to sing for you since you loved Broadway style voices, and since you both were so generous with your kindness, there would be no doubt that the two of you would somehow manage to start up a non-profit that manages to eradicate all the bad in the world.

With Mingyu, you would discuss filming and the latest movies to watch and you would ask him how he finds the motivation to do many different hobbies at once especially when busy with being an idol; you would probably try to trick him into listening to you tell ghost stories as if they happened to you.

With Minghao, you would share your favorite poets and philosophical ideas, sharing the life lessons that you two have learned and realized you managed to hack life’s code at a younger age than most, you both realized the real importance of being alive: contentment and love.

With Seungkwan, you would probably be laughing so hard at his wit that you wouldn’t have much time to breathe, you would try to figure out how exactly he managed to memorize so much information surrounding K-Pop and why exactly he was so passionate about it or if neither of those, you would ask him if he could get you the plug for those Jeju hallabong oranges.

With Hansol, you would call him “Vernonz,” since you loved names that began with the letters V and Z, and ask him about his parents once you found out they were both artists, and you two would definitely discuss the effects of late-stage capitalism and social media on humanity.

With Chan, you would do your best not to baby him, but you hold a lot of fondness for those younger than you, you would try to figure out how he is so particular about his attention to detail and whether it is something that is pressuring him (and if there was some way you could alleviate it).

He imagined you there, integrated into his life again. He imagined you showing authentic interest in every one of his precious members, unlike most interviewers they would be forced to interact with every comeback. You would learn all of their names, find out their favorite foods, the best way to make everyone collectively laugh, and ultimately, how to help all of them feel comfortable around you and inevitably love you.

And once they did, he could say that his most beloved people were finally all together.

He fell in love with you, but you’re the one who taught him how to walk into it with his eyes wide open. So, he did it with his members. It took practice, having to actively choose them. With you, it may have always been a choice, but it was as natural as breathing, even if there were times he felt like he was being suffocated (or wanted to suffocate you).

He remembered the first time he became aware of it. Most people talk about how love comes, there was always talk about rose-tinted glasses and how it softened the world around them, unable to forget the brilliant smile on their face, but no. You always shattered expectations.

From anyone else’s standards, his realization came at an inopportune time. But it was so clear. It wasn’t as though you had sparkles around you as you emitted a warm glow, it wasn’t as though your hair was perfectly touched up with no strand out of place, it wasn’t as though you were perfectly dolled-up with eyes lined and lips colored. No. It was just… you.

And that's when he knew.

Because there was no filter to block the sheer clarity he was hit with when he finally accepted he was in love with you.

──────────────────

When Jihoon saw your crying form, a slurry of words filled with concern and instructions were the only thing leaving his mouth as he packed his things up. He only deviated once he gave a quick farewell to his noona who left with her dad.

Jihoon bit his lip. Would you be okay? Maybe he’ll just rush home now and shower then call you later at night. Or maybe he should go prepare his bedroom if you decide to visit. Yes. He should do that.

Jihoon turned on his heel to make his way back home, his newfound mission resounding in his mind.

However, your cousin’s voice reached his ears, “Wait—Jihoon, I can give you a ride.”

He looked back at him, saw the way your shoulders still trembled, and shook his head firmly. His fist clenched, the baseball preventing his nails from biting into his palms. He spun it once. Twice. And up into the air.

“Here, firefly.”

You caught it by instinct.

Your gaze met his.

He felt his heart ache at the sheer brokenness apparent in your eyes, rimmed with red and puffed skin. He grit his teeth. He hasn’t seen you cry this hard since the day your parents told you that your number two class ranking was nothing to be proud of and that they expected more from you.

His jaw clenched so hard, he heard an audible bite.

“Why are you giving me this?”

Your voice sounded so soft, like a child. A visceral instinct within him wanting to lull you into a peaceful rest with a lullaby.

But he wouldn’t do that.

Because that would be embarrassing.

(That was a future Jihoon problem.)

“It’s your win today.”

He much preferred the look of confusion on your face to the look of agony you held just a few moments ago.

“Huh?”

He swallowed thickly, his brain unable to keep up with the words tumbling from his mouth. “Even when you feel like you’ve lost, even when you feel like you have nothing to gain, just the fact that you’re still here, that’s a win. So. Scream. Cry. You can do what you want. It’s your win.”

Your gaze trailed down to the baseball, too large to wrap your fingers around entirely. It was probably much denser than you thought it would be, the weight foreign in your hands, unlike his.

You sniffled.

A soft smile formed on your lips.

And Jihoon realized he preferred that look on your face than any other he’s seen.

Pretty.

He rapidly turned on his heel before he even gave a second to try and unpack that thought.

The weight of his baseball gear was really doing a number on his heart, he realized belatedly.

That night, he didn’t prepare his room. He didn’t even call you.

(Not that you reached out.)

He merely stared up at his ceiling, his heart in a constant flux of rapidly beating or stopping completely.

He groaned loudly as he played through the day’s earlier events, thinking himself stupid for giving you a fucking baseball. You don’t even like sports. Did he think he sounded cool when he said all of that cringey stuff?

It’s your win?

But despite the feeling of wanting to curl in on himself, he couldn’t help but still agree with his earlier self.

You did win his heart, after all.

(He threw his pillow at the wall.)

──────────────────

“You’ve been liking her posts more easily.”

Jihoon merely grunted as he tapped away at his computer, Soonyoung on the couch beside him. “I decided to just… stop overthinking. Well, more like just stop thinking in general. I’m too tired to try and pretend I’m smarter than I actually am.”

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow. “You got it bad for her.”

Jihoon glared at him, who was scrolling through his (Jihoon’s) phone. “Be careful what you say. For the amount of songs that are about her, she covers basically 60% of your salary.”

Soonyoung laughed. “Guess I owe her a lot, huh? If she didn’t up and leave, you wouldn’t have come here and we would’ve never met. So, I guess I’m grateful to her. Plus. She’s cute.”

“She’s more than that.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” Soonyoung went quiet for a moment. “She… A part of me really doesn’t want to trust her. I keep remembering that day, you know. Where you just… didn’t seem like yourself. Barely there—” Jihoon cringed at the recalled memory. “—but she also just seems so genuine that it makes it hard. I want to be your bro, you know? Bro code and all—”

“I never asked you to do that.”

“—And I’m nothing if not a bro. But I don’t think you’re the type of person to be hung up on someone who’s not trustworthy. Like. You lose interest in people easily if you don’t see them on a regular basis. But her? It’s been years, bro.”

“Okay, bro.”

“Just letting you know I support you in your decisions,” Soonyoung stated, but there was an edge to his voice that sounded as though he was trying to convince himself more than Jihoon. “If she’s really who you say she is. If she’s the one who’s captured that stubborn heart of yours. Then I’ll do everything I can to help you out—Oh, she posted again. Wow. She posts often and yet still gets over a thousand likes. It hasn’t even been a day. Oh wow!”

Jihoon twitched but tried not to show his eagerness. “What?”

“They’re doing a donation drive for the group home that she works with. Ey, how can someone who does volunteer work to help kids and teens be a bad person? Jihoon, are you kidding me?”

“Young-ah, you’re the one who said it, not me—”

“So close-minded, Hoon.”

Jihoon rolled his computer chair over to Soonyoung, snatched his phone back, and smacked the annoying gnat’s hand in the process. Soonyoung yelped in pain, but laughed it off. He saw your post (noticed that Soonyoung ‘liked it for him’) and a figurative lightbulb lit up over his overworked head.

“This looks like something Bumzu-hyung would post on his story. Maybe I can ask him to share it. Oh, but this is her private page. Oh wait. She tagged the group home.”

“Thanks for the play-by-play.”

Jihoon ignored him and clicked the profile to see they had the exact same e-flyer post. But he knew that you’d probably notice there was an influx of donations (hardly anything got by you) and he didn’t want to bombard you with unsolicited help.

But it’s for a good cause!

But he might be trespassing on her territory.

Everyone cares about youth and kids!

This group home wouldn’t have even caught his eye had it not been for you.

He groaned inwardly. “I don’t know whether I should ask Bumzu to reshare or what—”

“Dude, just ask her if you can share it and then wait for her reply. It’s not like there’s only a one day donation thing.”

Jihoon blinked at Soonyoung. “You’re right.”

Soonyoung immediately sat up straighter, pulling out his own phone from his pocket. He opened up his voice memo app. “Say that again, I need to record that so I can set it as my ringtone.”

Soonyoung pressed the Record button, extended his phone receiver to Jihoon, who leaned in promptly and said:

“Fuck off, Kwon Soonyoung.”

──────────────────

“Kwon Soonyoung, what the hell are you doing?”

“What do you mean? It’s not like I planned this.”

Jihoon glared at the boy before him who was somehow wearing matching clothes again. He specifically came home after rehearsal to change into something different and yet, here he was, matching with this endless energy ball. Jihoon specifically changed out of his all-black garment to choose a long, plain blue button-down overshirt and ripped, dark jeans. Something different from his usual style of a t-shirt and shorts.

Yet, there Soonyoung was, in nearly the same outfit, minus the overshirt being a blue flannel.

“I think this just means that we’re soulmates, Jihoon-ah.”

Jihoon pulled back his fist as if to hit Soonyoung, but the latter didn’t flinch at all, only laughed at the expense of his friend. The other members were downstairs waiting for them so Jihoon didn’t have enough time to change out of the outfit. And it felt almost ridiculous to give this more attention than it deserves, as if he was losing by admitting that it bothered him to the point of needing to change clothes.

But Kwon Soonyoung, the man that he was, would not let him live it down.

“Wow, we look like a couple. We should go on dates, huh? Get some sushi or–ack!”

The shorter of the two pressed his foot against the back of the other’s knee and Soonyoung nearly came crashing down had it not been for his instincts to catch himself.

Jihoon huffed down the stairs, shaking his head at the situation and readying himself to be made fun of by his members. Once he got through that door, it was game over.

And he was right.

Seungkwan, Mingyu, and Dino were the ones who rallied the rest of the group to heckle, which only added insult to injury, as those three were the ones who had the longest rap sheet to make fun of. Jihoon kept his disgusted face on as Soonyoung wrapped his arms around his shoulders, announcing to (what seemed like) the world about how he’s ‘matching with his best friend.’

Jihoon came back with a slew of half-hearted insults at the rest of his members, but they unfortunately outnumbered him. He is rarely on the receiving end of this level of teasing, but he was dragged into it thanks to Soonyoung, who was eating it up.

Even in the midst of it all, Jihoon couldn’t help but feel thankful that he even had someone to accidentally match with who would wear it with such pride and not shy away from it. Sure, it might seem dumb and annoying, but it reminded him that he could have that kind of playful relationship with others outside of you. He had other friends in school or at baseball, sure, but none were as comfortable, as relentlessly fun. He thought there would never be another you.

And there never was, but that feeling of acceptance, of joy, of gratitude.

He was able to find it outside of you.

Which was a heartbreaking realization before, but now he only hopes you’ve done the same.

And mere hours after his own outfit debacle, Jihoon sees your instagram story to find you accidentally matching with Hyejin, her making the same face that he did not too long ago. But you had a shit-eating grin, no doubt proud of causing a disruption in your friend’s life.

Your caption read: “oh, you and your soulmate are tied by a single, red thread? that’s nothing compared to the matching threads we got on right now. eat your heart out, makoto shinkai.”

Beneath it in smaller letters: “if you can’t tell by her face, this was not planned at all, but man, am i really rolling with it.”

Jihoon snorted at the serendipity of it all.

Perhaps the string of fate really isn’t just a single thread.

──────────────────

It was a rare day in which Jihoon found himself at home.

Which meant he had a lot of time to think about you.

(You replied to him. He shouldn’t have been so surprised. But he was, pleasantly so. Of course, it included a thumbs up emoji which was the visual manifestation of the acquaintance zone, but he would take what he could get.)

Album preparations were underway, and although there is a part of him that feels as though he should be scrambling, especially as their anniversary date was literally tomorrow, he thought back to a voice from his youth.

Years ago, he laid in his childhood bed, struck with a nasty fever from pushing his immune system too far by attempting to balance school and various music competitions. There was a half-asleep you, exhausted by misplaced guilt, with your fingers intertwined with his, who said: Jihoonie, Koreans always say ‘fighting’. I told you that this morning, and I knew you weren’t feeling well. I could’ve stopped you. And now here you are. I said ‘fighting,’ but why? Why do we have to fight? Life isn’t a battle to win. You don’t have to overcome anything, okay? You can just lay here and be with me. Please don’t get sick again. Please remember to rest. Some days, it’s okay to just be.

So, here he was. Simply being.

Whenever massive events (like SEVENTEEN’s six year anniversary) happened, he made sure to spend the 24 hours prior doing nothing than just being, to gain enough energy to last the following day.

Otherwise, the nagging guilt would get to him.

You were always weaving stories with even the thinnest of threads. Your knack for adding dramatic flair, amping it up to eleven, was a nightmare sometimes. For example, when he got sick and you kept repeating that you should’ve said something instead of letting him go on stage only to nearly faint afterwards. You took on too much responsibility for things outside of your control, which only caused you to lose your grip on what you actually could.

His chest tightened at the thought of you losing your grip completely. There were very few things in life that terrified him, but you potentially ending yours was one that plagued him until he learned how to remain steady when you were feeling unsure, and even still, it tore him up inside. But he knew that it wasn’t his battle to face; he wasn’t meant to save you. You reminded him of that time and time again, so instead, he learned how to let you live the life you weren’t sure you wanted. He observed warily.

As a teenager, he knew just how bad these thoughts could get for people at that age. He knew how people fell prey to the lies that they were unworthy of life and love.

So, he simply tried to be as honest as possible. He would do his best to not invalidate your experience, but he refused to enable those insidious feelings. He would come off as abrasive, he was sure, but your ability to detect bullshit was like no other. Your parents had a big hand in that. So, instead, he was truthful in his own way, in his own language, one that you learned to understand.

A few years ago, you did a two-part YouTube podcast at Yale. The first one was released a couple of months prior to the second, and he’s sure at least one hundred of the views are from SEVENTEEN (not all him, his members also took away a lot from your words).

He listened to that podcast time and time again. He heard the life in your voice, the curiosity of the future outweighing the pain of the past. You said that life was, at first, a means to be with the people you loved. But you slowly came to believe that life was something that you would choose to love every single day, and so you did.

He hoped that you still did, but trusted that, if there were days that would come where you did not, you would reach out to someone to wait with you until the storm passed and you could choose to love again.

His chest filled with pride thinking about how far you’ve come.

But he couldn’t help but wish there were some things that remained from back then.

That glimmer of hope spurred him to become mindful of the object he was fiddling with in his hands. He held up a bracelet of years ago, hardly worn by time or by him. He wasn’t sure whether he was still allowed to. It was one-half of a pair, but if its partner no longer existed, then.

However, he never had the desire to throw it away.

The metal charms felt both foreign and at home in his hands as he fiddled with them, the faint clicking sound of the chain barely registering as his mind was in an entirely different place. His eyes focused once again on the charm of the sun caught between his fingers.

If only catching you was as simple, he mused.

Jihoon sighed and covered his eyes, desperately trying not to cringe at his internal monologue, habitually reaching for the Chopper plushie that you gifted him years ago, squeezing the body to diffuse the embarrassment he felt.

He remembered when he saw the charms at some random shop he heard about from others and thought you would enjoy, so he decided to scope it out in advance for the two of you. It was easy, on his way home after spending a few hours on his own to rehearse his clarinet, a regular occurrence.

Although there was no doubt the two of you gravitated towards each other, you both valued your independence and alone time.

──────────────────

“We’re giving us the chance to miss each other, Jihoonie.”

“Who said I’d ever miss you?”

“Well, gosh darn. Guess I’ll cover for you and miss you twice as much.”

“…You’re dumb.”

“Yes. Can I have some of your fries?”

──────────────────

He retaliated by taking the ketchup bottle and squeezing them all over the tray of fries and you immediately retracted, believing that fries should be dipped in its respective sauce (unless they were loaded fries, of course, which warranted using a utensil of sorts).

He chuckled to himself. Fifteen was one of the most turbulent years of his life, but there were plenty of moments (like fries drowning in ketchup) that reminded him it wasn’t all intense.

Your fifteenth year started off with that charm bracelet.

Two weeks before then, you were so moody that he nearly gave you your birthday gift earlier than he intended, just so he wouldn’t have to see you be so upset (for which, he has only a vague remembrance of what could have made you so upset). Of course, it might have been easier if he had simply brought up his concern and asked how you were, but he knew you would have brushed it off as nothing.

He paused.

Did he know that though?

Or did he just assume?

He clicked his tongue, annoyed at his own self-reflection.

Communication was easy in theory.

Application, however.

He often found it difficult, matching your pace.

You were always so quick.

Quick-witted. 

Quick to anger.

Quick to assume.

Quick to run away.

He heard a soft knock at his bedroom door (which meant it wasn’t Mingyu or Soonyoung) and he grunted in response. The door slowly opened (that ruled out Seungcheol and Chan) and revealed who decided to greet him in such a manner.

Ah, he was right.

“Woozingi~”

“Jeonghan-hyung.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Jeonghan moved to sit at the edge of Jihoon’s bed, with his legs crossed. “The members are wanting to get dinner tonight altogether since we have a schedule tomorrow. The staff said they’ll pay since it’s our six years.”

This had Jihoon propping himself upright. “Barbecue?”

Jeonghan snickered. “Yeah, it’ll be good to get ready in a few hours. But I just wanted to stop by and tell you in person since I know you like to mute the group chat.”

“That’s because it’s constantly going off,” Jihoon grumbled.

“Yes, that happens when people are trying to have a conversation, Jihoon-ah. You should try it sometimes. Especially since it sounds like you have communication issues.”

Jihoon winced. “Hyung. Your timing is terrible.”

“No, it’s impeccable. Just not for you. Anyway, a word of advice.”

“Hm.”

“You don’t have to fear rejection anymore,” Jeonghan started, slowly, the words seeming almost foreign in his mouth. “Regardless of what happens with her, you have people in your life that care about you as you are. You don’t have to try and match her. I don’t want you to subconsciously fall back into a habit of appeasing her because you’re afraid of scaring her away again.”

Jihoon blinked slowly. “I wasn’t expecting actual advice, so I’m a little stunned right now.”

Jeonghan chuckled. “I’m gonna be honest. The other members told me to come talk to you because the rest are either too scared or don’t know what to say.”

“Hah, we’re back to our trainee days, huh?”

Jeonghan grinned, probably recalling the amount of times that he was the emotional support pillar of the boys before they each learned to open up to each other. “Speaking of, I remember when I first met you. You were a teen with a cold-hearted exterior and a lot of opinions as well as the weight of the world on your shoulders. You had the responsibility to carry the music of twelve other guys and you had just lost something that was precious to you. You threw yourself into your work and that became your identity.”

“I—”

“I know you’re not that way anymore, but I’m just reminding you that, no matter what happens with her, no matter how she may respond, you aren’t that cold teenager who had to bear the weight all on your own. You’ve grown and are surrounded by people who can help ease the load.” Jeonghan paused for a moment. “Also, if I could think of a member who laughs easily at anything, you are one of the first that comes to mind. So, it concerns me that you haven’t been laughing lately, even when Mingyu accidentally sneezed out his ramyeon noodles—“ Jihoon snorted at the memory from last night. “—and, if I can assume anything about her, I don’t think she’d be very honored to know that it’s because of her. So. Come back to us, Jihoon. If she’s really meant to be in your life, she can match your rhythm. Don’t leave us in the dust.”

“Is this a long-winded way of saying ‘bros before hoes’?”

Jeonghan burst into laughter. “Maybe so!”

──────────────────

“Our Jihoonie~”

The teenage boy grunted in response, shooting up a look at one of the older members. “Is there something that you need, hyung?”

“You speak so formally, it’s off-putting.”

“That’s because someone refuses to act his age.”

“What a tough Busan guy,” Jeonghan teased.

Jihoon’s face twitched.

“Bumzu-hyung is looking for you. Said he wanted to finish up some more lessons.”

“Agh. I knew he was going to have criticisms. I’m barely getting a grip on this music production stuff, so I don’t even know if what I’m making is good enough to sell. Everyone might hate it.”

“Even if everyone else hates your music, just know I’m one of your biggest fans.”

“...If my music is hated, then we won’t make any money, which means you’ll be poor. What? Is it your dream to become poor?”

Jihoon expected Jeonghan to laugh and tell him that he was right and that money mattered. But instead, Jeonghan replied, “Jihoon. Your music is good. And if we don’t make money because other people aren’t able to see it. Then what’s the point? You say that it’s your responsibility as to whether SEVENTEEN succeeds or not, but, we’re thirteen members. Three units. One team. We’re SEVENTEEN. Stop acting like it’s all about you. Maybe my dream used to be becoming rich. But now, it’s just doing this. With all of us.”

──────────────────

Jihoon stared at his hands, at the charm bracelet. “Is it selfish to want this life and her as well?”

“Maybe it is. But, so what if you’re selfish?”

“Isn’t being selfish supposed to be a bad thing?”

“Just hope that she’s as selfish as you are,” Jeonghan shrugged. “By wanting her in your life, does that mean you want to be with her romantically?”

Jihoon paused. “You know, I’m not sure. I think I would be over the moon if we could even just be a part of each other’s lives. To have that line of communication open. But as the people that we are now. I think I’d like to meet the new Y/N. She probably has more in common with the new Lee Jihoon than the old her anyway.”

“You two have grown apart, aren’t you worried?”

Jihoon went silent for a moment, trying to pick out the right words. “Rather than grown apart, it feels like we’ve simply grown in separate spaces, by taking different routes, but our lives seem too intertwined for our paths to never cross again. Plus, she’s one of the few people that I could really be myself around. It’d be nice to have another safe space like that outside of SEVENTEEN because who else can I complain about you all to, that wouldn’t cause conflict between us?”

“Ay. What is there to complain about?”

Jihoon gave his hyung a pointed look.

“Alright, alright,” Jeonghan started. “But be honest. Real talk. You really think she wouldn’t spread it to Dispatch?”

“She has always valued people’s stories more than anything, so it really annoyed her when other people would take out-of-context excerpts and twist them. So. That’s how I know she wouldn’t spread it. Also, if she was that kind of person, she would’ve done so by now. She has a ton of blackmail material on me.”

Jeonghan chuckled. “Interesting. You said she likes stories, so is she a writer like you?”

“Not in the traditional sense. She’s more of a speaker than a writer. In high school, of course, she had her awkward moments like everybody else did, but even then, she was a tier above the rest. I don’t know how to say this kindly, but she doesn’t really think before she talks, but she doesn’t usually have to because what comes out is almost always what she intended.”

“So, she must be eloquent then.”

Jihoon clicked his tongue. “Just because things come out as she intended doesn’t mean she wouldn’t intentionally be mean or annoying.”

──────────────────

“You like unnie, don’t you?”

Jihoon spluttered. Shit, shit, shit. He tried to gather his thoughts, but failed. He wasn’t good with spontaneous spoken words, that was always your realm of expertise. He needed time to think of the right thing to say, but you never waited for him. “F-Firefly, I—”

You barked out a laugh, and he nearly retaliated at the harshness. He wasn’t sure why exactly you were being so harsh. “Hey, it’s fine. I don’t blame you. She’s pretty high up there, above us mortals. From now on, I’ll do my best to help you out, yeah? That’s what best friends are for. Plus, you’re like family, like a brother to me, so.”

Jihoon sank back.

Family? Brother?

He wondered why that left a bitter taste in his mouth. But that didn’t make any sense. Wasn’t being called family the highest praise?

So why the hell did that piss him off?

Instead of speaking his actual thoughts, his mouth had a mind of its own. “I can handle myself, Y/N.”

You sneered at him.

God, you were so infuriating sometimes. 

She wasn’t like that.

She was the soothing waves of Busan, ebb and flow, constant and expected. She was everything you weren’t. She was older, more experienced, graceful, calm, soothing.

She was beautiful.

But she didn’t have that burning fire you did. Didn’t have him reacting the way you managed to every time you opened your damn mouth or rolled your eyes—there you went again!

What the hell was wrong with you?

Rapid escalation, raised voices. You, accusing him of not trusting your judgment and hiding his crush from you, saying that you wished he trusted you. Him, arguing that he didn’t need to share every little thing, that it wasn’t about his trust for you at all, and that God, he did! He did trust you! Of course, he did!

So, why didn’t he tell you about the stupid crush?

It wasn’t that deep, but you were convinced it was, and he was too tired to even try and correct you. So, sure, he could be “in love” with his noona, like you believed. Because then he wouldn’t have to untangle the mess in his chest. He could shove it under the rug like he always had, always would.

You slammed your fists down onto the table before you walked away from him, in a rampage. Like a damn wildfire trying to clear everything in sight.

You were a volatile thing, explosive, even.

But.

You fizzled out just as fast.

He awoke around midnight to the soft knocking at his window, your silhouette perched on the thickest branch the tree outside his childhood home had to offer. He had half a mind to not open the glass pane but he saw you shiver and his body leaped out of bed without a second thought.

“I’m sorry, Jihoonie,” you said, a few moments after you clambered into his room.

“Okay.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for being friends with me anyway.”

“Sure.”

So, he wrapped your favorite blanket around you, the one he kept in his room for nights like this. Color slowly returned to your face and he saw the stains of tears on your cheek in the moonlight. You muttered words of apologies and told him about your day, not having the chance to earlier.

You were better like this, quiet, but not silent. Like a crackling fireplace beckoning all to come and listen, to be enveloped in warmth and light.

He never once called you his family.

But he’d be damned if you weren’t his home.

──────────────────

“Funny enough, despite the fact that she’s more of a speaker than a writer, even more than that, she’s a listener. She listens to more stories than she tells them. I think that’s helped with her pride. If she knew she messed up, she would always apologize, even if she hated doing it.”

“Well, that’s one lesson you haven’t learned from her yet.”

Jihoon pulled a face and Jeonghan laughed in response. The older of the two snatched away the Chopper on the opposite end and started throwing the doll up and down.

“Alright, lover boy. What I got from this conversation is that you’re still in love with her, but you gotta make sure she’s worthy of your love, alright? Heed my warning, don’t be afraid of being rejected by her. It’s already happened anyway, and here you are: world-star idol with twelve bros behind you no matter what.”

Jihoon cracked a smile. “You’re right. I got lucky.”

Jeonghan tossed Chopper back in his original vicinity. “I think Dokyeomie wanted to ask something from you too, but I don’t remember what it was, so maybe you can go get ready and he’ll come find you.”

“What a useless messenger.”

“Your luck can’t be perfect, Jihoon-ah,” Jeonghan quipped. He turned to leave the room but stopped in his tracks. “I hope to hear her story one day. Hear her side of things.”

“…Me too, hyung.”

──────────────────

“How much is the corn dog?”

“Hmm… Tell me your favorite color and how it makes you feel.”

Jihoon mustered as much displeasure as he could hold in his six-year-old body. “Y/N, you can’t pay with stories, that’s stupid.”

“It’s my shop!”

“Jihoon, we’re just playing pretend,” your cousin added, his eyes darting between the two of you, likely worried about needing to do damage control.

“Hyung, her idea is dumb!”

“Why!” You whined. “People pay with money all the time, but you can get money whenever! I don’t get to hear stories! I like stories! My parents don’t read to me every night like yours do, Jihoon!”

Jihoon stomped out of the playroom in annoyance, ears grated by the sound of your crying and your cousin’s failed attempts to console you. Stories couldn’t buy the new toy race car that he got. Stories couldn’t buy him candy at the corner market near the kindergarten. Stories couldn’t buy a GameBoy.

Stories didn’t matter.

Money mattered.

Still, nearly a decade later, you never failed to ask for your unconventional form of payment every time he took a portion of your lunch. He knew you packed more for him anyway. And he knew you would always ask for a story in return.

And he intentionally packed smaller meals so he could tell you about how the History teacher had botched up his classmate’s test and accidentally graded off by one, about how the clarinet solo he was learning required a finger pattern he wasn’t used to, about how that one guy—oh, the tennis player?—no, no, the flautist—isn’t it flutist?—it doesn’t matter—yes, it does, Jihoon—anyway, he asked out a girl—the senior?—yes—oh wow, how bold.

And you would smile in return, sliding your food choice of the day within his reach.

He learned that you hated money; it was the one and only thing your parents ever gave you consistently. Simply, it was the manifestation of their love (or lack of) for you.

So, he paid you with recountings of the mundane. You never complained, even when he felt as though his storytelling skills were lackluster. He held your rapt attention; your eyes wide with wonder, voice laced with curiosity.

Eventually, he asked you why.

Why stories?

“Because without them, I wouldn’t have learned that you love the X-Men series because of Hugh Jackman, that you prefer winter over summer, that the first ever K-Pop group you listened to was Brown Eyed Girls, that when you tell me a funny story, you wait until I react before you start laughing.”

And you gave him that smile that made his heart stutter.

“Money is everywhere, Jihoon. But there’s only one you. That’s all there is to it. People, at the core of it all, are just stories. So. That’s why. People will always matter more than profit.”

──────────────────

After Jihoon readied himself for the group dinner, he plopped himself down onto the communal couch and found himself scrolling through Instagram. He stopped at your latest post, a candid shot of you reading a children’s book to several six-year-olds, your face aglow with excitement, a high chance the photographer captured you mid-way through some silly voice attributed to the character on the page.

“Hey, hyung.”

“Hm?”

“Can I borrow your microphone for the day?”

Jihoon didn’t even have the chance to think twice before the words left his mouth, “Tell me your favorite color and how it makes you feel.”

An uncomfortable silence blanketed the room.

“Is… Is this a hidden-camera?”

“...never mind. Just put it back when you’re done.”

“It’s blue, by the way.”

“I don’t care—”

“It makes me feel happy because it’s the color of the sky and of the ocean, which means it can be super calm or super exciting. It’s also one of the colors of our Caratdeul.”

“Okay, Dokyeom-ssi. Get out.”

“Yes, hyung. Thank you.”

Jihoon thought about how, if given the chance, you would ask Seokmin if he liked the paleness of 9am or the depth of 6pm? If he liked the gentleness of serenity or the vibrancy of cerulean? Or if he appreciated all that the shades encompassed before fading into greens and indigos?

But he wasn’t you.

You were the inspiration; the muse.

You were the reason to write.

He was just a storyteller.

──────────────────

“THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO IS HERE. THANK YOU TO THE PLEDIS STAFF, OUR MANAGERS, OUR CHOREOGRAPHERS, OUR MUSIC TEAM, OUR DANCERS, OUR STYLISTS, OUR CAMERA WORKERS, OUR FAMILIES, AND OUR SEVENTEEN MEMBERS! HAPPY SIX YEARS. HERE’S TO MORE!”

Everyone in the rented out restaurant cheered before drinking together. Even the sound barrier breaking screams of Soonyoung wasn’t enough to dampen Jihoon’s pride and spirit over how far they’ve come as a team. He looked around at his table, several members already seemingly drunk, and couldn’t help but smile to himself.

“Jihoon-ah, make an exception for tonight and drink!”

He shook his head fervently. “There’s going to be several of you who are going to regret drinking when we have our V LIVE tomorrow. You’re going to look super puffy.”

“I can already feel it,” Seungcheol laughed, his eyes slightly glazed. “But the food and the beer are too good to pass up.”

Speaking of, Jihoon made sure to snatch a piece of kalbi to put onto his plate before Mingyu could. The younger one gave him the stink-eye while Jihoon merely smirked and tilted his head back, challenging him. Mingyu decided to change his target and grab at Seungkwan’s piece, who promptly smacked his hand with a “Kim Mingyu!”

Laughter went around the table as they reflected on the last six years, the amount of embarrassing moments that were brought up were positively correlated with the amount of shots that were taken.

Jihoon grit his teeth as he tried not to fold in on himself, remembering how they threw him up as a cheer and nearly ended his life by creating a Jihoon-shaped hole in the ceiling. He was so much smaller back then, easier to launch without thinking.

They laughed about the incident where Mingyu was nearly beaten to death by Jihoon with a guitar, which Jihoon argued that he still believed he was in the right. They discussed one of their first performances as a team, where they performed NU’EST’s “Hello” and they all had helmet hair. They poked fun at Seungkwan for his revolutionary English skills when he said, “are you kimbap kidding?”

They’ve grown so much.

International interviews with BuzzFeed, Seventeen the magazine, and others. GOING SEVENTEEN as a show has grown alongside them, more than just showing Carats the behind-the-scenes, but has now turned to variety that garnered the new fanbase of Cubics, and has been an honest highlight to Jihoon’s career, where they can just go wild and laugh with each other, just as they always do.

They talked about how they used to sneak in food, how they used to help each other get ready for school, how they still have the same playful spirit as they did back then, but with more trust that has formed between them (although, less for Jeonghan since his cheating at games has only gotten worse).

Jihoon leaned back, full of food and laughter and gratitude.

He wouldn’t trade his life with his team for anything.

(Not even you.)

However, that didn’t mean Jihoon didn’t want you to be a part of his already complete life.

He was a selfish human being.

He hoped you would be one too.

──────────────────

May 26th.

Six years ago, “Adore U” came out, marking the beginning of the journey of a thirteen member boy idol group named SEVENTEEN.

Now, here he was, trying to not be bullied into drinking another shot of soju after already consuming several in a short period.

Their anniversary V LIVE ended not too long ago and they did not have a schedule the following day, so the team decided to celebrate on their own, playing Mafia and messing around. A few hours ago, Jihoon would’ve hardly been able to tolerate the noise level, but since his hearing has been compromised due to his heart beating so loudly in his ears from the alcohol, he was plenty fine.

He shooed away his members and retreated back into the corner of the room, pulling out his cellphone and ignoring Mingyu making stupid kissy faces and noises. Jihoon shot him a look of disgust, but Mingyu merely laughed it off and went to go bother his next victim, who seemed to be Boo Seungkwan, a prime choice indeed.

As soon as he refreshed his Instagram app, there you were (with a highlighted gradient ring around your profile picture, your head tilted back with a soft smile grazing your features as you took in the endless sky above you).

He clicked on the circle and saw you and your friends there, a dimmed photo but your collective smiles large and wide. He recognized Hyejin and Wheein easily (the former with a disgusted look apparent on her face and the latter with a deep dimple), as they were two friends who were a common occurrence on your feed.

And there you were.

alexa, play congratulations by post malone ft. quavo 🥳🎓 #PHinisheD

The corner of his lip quirked up at the cleverness in your caption.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol in his system, he swiped up to send a message:

i figured u would be a day6 or eric nam kind of fan

His brain short-circuited.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Fuck.

Who was he to think he could directly message you like this? Also, who the hell was he to figure anything about you? He hasn’t even spoken to you. Jesus Christ, what has he done?

Before he could stop himself though, his thumbs decided to speak his thoughts.

sorry that was dumb of me to assume

of course u would like post malone considering u could rap the entirety of eminems album

What the hell, dude.

You were going to freak out and call him a creep and then block him.

You’ve literally never done that.

He tried to calm his heart.

However, not even ten minutes later, he realized he couldn’t take that risk.

sorry that was stupid

ignore me

congrats y/n

He felt nearly every goosebump that crawled along his skin, creeping up to his neck, threatening to choke him out. He breathed in deeply through his nose, hoping no one bears witness to him.

“Yah, Jihoon-ah.”

His eyes trailed up to see Soonyoung with a look of concern, mixed with a twinge of panic and anger.

Ah, it would be him.

“What did she do?”

──────────────────

For people who didn’t know him, Kwon Soonyoung comes off as, well, not-so-bright.

But that wasn’t (entirely) true.

Kwon Soonyoung was aware.

He knew how to read a room, but oftentimes, he would purposely choose to simply do what he wanted anyway. Hardly did he ever prioritize another person’s comfort and complacency over his expression of his individuality. He knew what it took to be a performer, and he never denied himself the opportunity to be one.

So, him simply staring at his friend in silence with eyes that alone could have earned him his moniker of “Tiger’s Gaze,” was a major indicator that something was amiss.

Also, the fact that his friend was shrouded in near darkness, eyes rimmed with red, only a corner lamp illuminating his pale features.

“She went to America. She’s never fucking coming back.”

Soonyoung tried not to wince at his friend’s broken tone. Jihoon cursed like a sailor when they were trainees, but it was a habit that he slowly lost since he would often be reprimanded for his speech. He had to do the work to censor himself.

Well, the K-Pop industry was not a stranger to censorship, he mused.

“Wasn’t she already at an international school, though?”

“Yeah, but I just… I thought she would come back after graduating from that boarding school, you know? She wanted to go to Seoul National University, but. Fuck, dude. What if I’m the reason she stopped? What if she stopped following her dreams because of me? What if I–”

“She made her choice, Jihoon.”

“This is all my fault.”

“How?”

Soonyoung saw confusion flit across Jihoon’s face, but it quickly settled with a shake of his head. “It just is, alright?”

“Jihoon–”

“I’ll never be good enough for her. Fuck, I just thought if I tried, then maybe I could be, and– God, who do I think I am? Of course she’d never want someone like me–”

“Dude! Shut the fuck up, will you?”

Jihoon sat there in stunned silence.

“This might not even have anything to do with you. And if she really went to America because she’s trying to avoid you, then she’s a massive bitch–”

“Don’t fucking call her that–”

“I can do whatever the hell I want. Just like she’s doing whatever the hell she wants.” Soonyoung’s anger was slowly morphing into rage. Who was this person in front of him? He was so used to the sure, secure Lee Jihoon who would never truly get riled up.

But one mention of you and suddenly he would spiral.

Who the hell did you think you were?

Leaving this man who loved you so fucking wildly, to the point where he was just one moment away from begging on his knees for your return.

Soonyoung felt disgusted, but it was more of a ringing concern in his ears.

“Jihoon, you’re acting crazy right now. So what if she doesn’t come back to Korea? Are you gonna wait like a fucking sad dog out in the rain? Hoping that she’ll come pick you up again? You’re missing your own fucking life here.”

“I just–”

“Yeah, yeah, you love her. I get it. But… If she were to see you right now, do you think she would even want this kind of love? This obsessive, insecure kind?”

Jihoon’s face was now contorted in pain and Soonyoung tried so terribly hard to keep his face neutral. Soonyoung was plenty capable of being a soothing person, especially to his fellow members, but he was so riddled with frustration that he knew that he would come off as disingenuous if he even tried to pretend to be.

“Let her go. If she comes back, then she will. But don’t let her come back to someone who is incapable of even picking himself off of the floor.”

“...Okay.”

Kwon Soonyoung was aware.

Aware of how much Lee Jihoon was in love with you.

Painfully so.

──────────────────

“I just–”

“You just what?” Soonyoung’s eyes bore into his friend’s face.

Jihoon recoiled at his tone. “I replied to her Instagram story and it was some dumb comment, but what if she thinks I’m being too much and she backs off and–?”

“Jihoon-ah.”

“...Soonyoung-ah.”

“She’s human, right?”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow at that. “Yeah, no shit.”

“Then why are you acting like she’s this untouchable goddess? Who cares if she thinks you’re being too much? You’re putting her on a pedestal she probably doesn’t even want, dude.”

──────────────────

“Why’d you reject the guy?”

You glanced up at her best friend. “What’re you talking about?”

Jihoon cocked his head to the side. Was it already so quickly forgotten by you? It happened at lunch and it was kind of rowdy. Poor dude. “The guy who asked you out to the dance. You said you thought he was cute before and that he was good at tutoring math.”

“Yeah, I might know him, but he doesn’t know me.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow. “I thought you guys tutored together.”

You clicked your tongue. “Yeah, we do, but. He doesn’t know me. I know him because I ask him questions. I ask him about himself. But he never once asked me a question about me. If he did, he would know that I hate public gestures. He would know that I don’t like receiving flowers. He didn’t even care to ask any of my friends about what I liked. The main reason as to why he asked me to go to the dance is probably because I made him feel good about himself. I might know him, but he doesn’t know me, and that’s one of the most annoying things.”

“What, that people don’t know you?”

“No. That people assume they know me.”

Jihoon paused for a moment.

“People think that I’m this super wholesome good kid who gets perfect grades.”

“Well, one of those things is true.”

You cracked a smile at that. “Yeah, well. The more people assume I’m on a different level from them, the lonelier it is. I just… I don’t want to be lonely, Jihoon.”

“It’s alright. I’ll make sure you aren’t.”

It was chilling, how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, as if you knew a secret he didn’t, as if you already prophesied a future that rendered his words empty. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Lee Jihoon.”

──────────────────

Jihoon nearly bit his tongue.

Ever since he no longer had the security of having you be by his side, he became exactly like one of them, forcing assumptions onto you.

You were out of sight and he was out of his mind.

He told you that you could always be yourself around him, and here he was, creating a caricature of you in his head that he knew didn’t exist. To push forth the narrative he wrote. One born of insecurity. “...I don’t understand how you’ve been so right lately?”

“I really do wish I had my phone around to record you when you say that,” Soonyoung said off-handedly. “So, you’re not going to try to unsend those messages?”

“You can unsend messages?”

“Uh–”

Jihoon immediately unlocked his phone to go to his messages. There, he saw your chat. He long-pressed the message without much thought and his thumb hovered over it.

But he hesitated.

“...Just watching from afar isn’t enough for you anymore, is it?”

Jihoon stared up at his friend, who had a look of (almost) pity etched across his features. Jihoon swallowed the lump in his throat. “...No. I don’t think it is.”

“Well, if she rejects you in any kind of way, I can comfort you.”

“No thanks.”

“Yeah, thought you’d say that.”

──────────────────

Almost exactly sixty minutes later, Jihoon witnessed a miracle.

“...She replied.”

Seungkwan glanced up at Jihoon. “Who?”

Jihoon turned his screen to his younger member, who leaned forward to read his screen. Only to audibly gasp and cover his mouth with his hands. “You messaged her?!”

“Yeah, like an hour ago. Keep up.”

“Hyung, you didn’t tell me–”

“Ah, Boo Seungkwan.”

The corner of Seungkwan’s mouth twitched and Jihoon merely smirked. He turned his attention back to your messages, smiling fondly at your usage of 🥳 after greeting him a happy anniversary.

Oh shit, wait. You knew SEVENTEEN?

And he portrayed that sentiment exactly when messaging you.

(With some typing errors.)

(He may or may not have taken one, two, several shots once the anxiety settled back into him.)

(His alcohol tolerance was nonexistent.)

The messages were now rapid-fire. He found out that you were a Carat and that you favored Yoon Jeonghan.

He snorted at that, of course you would.

A lightbulb lit up over his head. Ah. He could do something for you.

He jumped up from his seat on the couch, away from Seungkwan who was watching over his shoulder the entire time who chose to remain silent because he knew he would be kicked out if he said anything compromising. “Jeonghan-hyung.”

“Woozi Woozi~?”

“Can you do something for me?”

Jeonghan stared at him, frozen. Then after a moment to process what exactly Jihoon said, the older one crossed his arms over his chest, a scandalized look in his wide eyes. “Depends on what you’re asking for.”

“YAH.”

“Lee Jihoon, don’t yell at someone you’re trying to ask a favor from. You’re lucky I’m a nice guy.”

Jihoon held his tongue, but his expression must have given it away because Jeonghan laughed and said that he would rather not die, and asked Jihoon to continue with what he was saying. “Y/N just graduated and she basically said that you’re her favorite SEVENTEEN member–”

“WOW! I like her already.”

“Hyung.”

“Okay, what do you want me to do for both my cute fan and my even cuter dongsaeng?”

“Just a video to congratulate her.”

“My videos are rare, it’s not easy to get something like this, you know.”

“Hyung, please.”

Jeonghan cackled, but quickly acquiesced. “Alright, alright.”

Soon enough, he found himself in a rhythm speaking to you. It was so easy, there was no residual awkwardness (on his end, at least) and it felt so natural. The banter was still there and so were your emoticons, escalating from the “:)” of your childhood to the iPhone emojis. You seemed so close, within reach, attainable.

That felt dangerous.

He could feel it. He could feel that desire to spill out everything he could. He spent years coming up with the words he wished he could’ve told you, some of them now award-winning songs, and it feels almost euphoric to know that he could tell you it all.

But.

He wasn’t sure, still. How receptive you would be. Would you run away like you did in the past whenever things became too much, too overwhelming? He always reminded you that you could never be that, but he wasn’t sure whether he was of the same capacity.

He wants you in his life. There is no doubt about that, especially not now.

But what if you leave again?

He cannot mess this up. He can’t.

So, he kept things light between you, jokes and jabs.

But that didn’t stop him from pushing for more, disguised in a (not-so) innocent attempt at ensuring that he would be able to have open contact with you in the future.

And that’s all he needed. A future with you in it.

That wasn’t too much to ask for, right?

──────────────────

Yes. Yes, it was.

After a few days of no response from your end on KakaoTalk, your Shikamaru profile picture almost mocking him with his permanent deadpan look, the answer was resounding.

But Jihoon’s entire identity was based on his stubbornness.

So, he decided to take a chance and message you on Instagram.

Only to retract immediately saying you didn’t have to reply.

Stupid.

Thankfully, though, you responded within 30 minutes, admitting that @narutofanfreak123 was not exactly a username you wanted to share with anyone above the age of twelve. You both quickly resolved the miscommunication (wow, Jihoon thought, imagine if we had this before).

He chuckled at your choice of KKT username, @MadameFirefly, oddly touched that his nickname for you still held enough weight to be your moniker for a messaging app.

He did his best to casually ask what you were planning on doing in the future (not like he wanted to see if he could somehow fit into it, or whatever).

Jihoon was left staring at his phone screen, the weight of his phone now burdened by the weight of your choices. Seoul? Or New York City?

──────────────────

“You didn’t have to miss the dance just because I got a B on an exam, you know.”

“Your parents are insane for grounding you to the library for a B on an exam, you know? And for a hagwon that’s way above our grade level.”

You shook your head, not willing to admit out loud that you agreed. “What I mean is that you don’t have to keep me company while I study when you could go off and meet cute girls and sweep them off their feet.”

“Why would I do that when I can watch you and your snot-nosed face trying to do college level calculus?”

“It’s all so that I can get into Seoul National.”

“Firefly, you could get into any school, even outside Korea.”

“Maybe I’ll do just that,” you laughed. “Finally get out of here.”

“Just let me know and I’ll stow myself into your suitcase.”

“Oh please. You’ll probably be the one traveling internationally doing whatever you do. A world-renowned musician.”

“Alright, you can be in my suitcase instead then.”

“Okay, can you leave breathing holes for me?”

“No, get better lung capacity.”

You clicked your tongue at him and he laughed. “Seriously, though, Jihoonie. You could be spending your teen years the way the movies do it. You could be ‘swearing you’re infinite’ while a slow-mo cam focuses on you as you dance, surrounded by beautiful people definitely too old to be cast as teenagers.”

“No thanks.”

You put your forehead down onto the table. “Please. Do it for me. Get a girlfriend because I can’t.”

“You know, you’re probably why I can’t get a girlfriend.”

No. You definitely were.

You shot him an annoyed look. “You could easily go and find someone who’d be smitten with you. But instead you’re about to watch me get a nosebleed over how hard I’m working my brain here.”

“Maybe I’m a sadist and want to watch that happen.”

You threw your eraser at him, but easily missed, the rubber object bouncing off of the table and onto the carpeted floor. You whined at the idea of having to leave your seat and Jihoon just rolled his eyes and picked it up for you.

Sure, he could be dancing with his friends, with cute girls, with whoever. He could be surrounded by endless snacks and overly sweet punch, the dance no doubt smelling like youth and pride and reckless decisions. He would see that there are plenty of people in his life outside of you.

But, no.

If he did, you would be left here, in this almost deserted library on a Friday, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into what your parents have convinced you matters more than your health.

You gave him a large grin as he passed you your eraser before you went back to focusing on your work.

Yeah, he’d much rather see this instead.

──────────────────

Later that evening, he found himself again in his recording studio.

Our past that didn’t line up,

If I could go back in time,

Rather than roughly, but warmly,

Would I be able to let you go?

He stared at the lyrics he wrote, feeling discontent. He wanted to be the kind of person who didn’t feel any kind of residual emotions towards you. Who would be able to meet you where you were and wish you well, no matter where you decided to go.

One of his biggest regrets was storming out of your childhood home the way that he did. He could’ve had answers but instead he was left with hostile emotions and questions.

He could only hope he would’ve done something different.

But now that he is faced with letting you go, he’s not sure how easily he would yield.

He took a moment to bury his face in his hands and tried to think about this from your perspective (something he had to practice while living with twelve other boys). He breathed in deeply and thought about the you that you are now, about how the person he fell in love with could easily be gone, and you were nothing but a shadow of what remained.

But that didn’t feel right either. It seems as though the person that you’ve grown into, that you’ve flourished into, is someone he would’ve wanted to get to know regardless of whether you had history or not.

Perhaps that is because of the artifice of social media, or perhaps it’s because you carry an air of authenticity with you that has now been given the opportunity to bloom instead of stifled in the environment you were raised in. Whether or not you were mere remnants of his past, it does not mean that the person you are now is any less lovely.

He groaned loudly.

Emotional labor is hard.

How is this something you enjoy doing?

──────────────────

“You really want to become a social worker, huh?”

You shrugged. “I mean, yeah. It feels like the best use of my skills. I like being able to potentially help people like me and well, there are a lot of people like me, you know. I don’t know whether I want to become a private practice therapist, but that seems like a solid option for now until I know more about what else is out there in the field.”

He would disagree, but he decided not to. “I just can’t deal with all of those emotions.”

You gave him a raised eyebrow. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the most sensitive people that I know.”

Jihoon felt ruffled by that. “What? What are you talking about?”

You quickly put your hands up in mock defense. “I’m not saying that being sensitive is a bad thing. I’m saying that there’s no way you would be my friend if you couldn’t handle emotions. I have way too many of them, I’m not that blind to that. Also, I’ve read your poetry and heard your music and that’s some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. Like, even the way you hold your clarinet is emotional.”

“I think that’s you projecting yourself onto me.”

“Say what you want, Jihoon. You’re a sensitive soul, but I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Yeah, well, sensitivity isn’t what gets you awards, you know. Skill does.”

You huffed in response. “Yeah, well, once you build up the second, the first is what will create a legacy that will be one to remember for ages to come. I’m speaking it into existence now. And I lay claim to the title of being your first fan. I will support you the entire way, no matter what you do. Music, baseball, comedy. Whatever!”

Jihoon snorted. He wouldn’t dare become a comedian, but it made him feel good that you thought that was a viable prospect for him. “Whatever industry I’m in, I’ll probably have to protect you from all of the bad people. You’re too soft. Even just last week, I mean…”

“What? You mean, when Nahyun made fun of me during my presentation in front of everyone?”

Irritation washed over Jihoon. 

The self-proclaimed It Girl decided to try and belittle you while in the middle of your presentation, as you were explaining the measurements that you used in your findings, she asked whether you had ‘measured’ your weight recently because ‘you really ought to’.

He never wanted to get into a fight more than then, especially when your other classmates laughed along. It was a subpar, typical, low-class mean girl line, but it filled him with rage.

You were completely unphased by it, continuing on with your presentation, not even choosing to spare a glance in her direction.

Luckily, the teacher, not being a prick himself, called out Nahyun and pulled her aside after class to apologize to you. (Jihoon would’ve preferred a public execution apology.)

Jihoon stood just a few feet away as you accepted her half-assed effort. You paused for a moment and muttered something to her, something that only she could hear. Nahyun merely pursed her lips afterwards before walking away. Irritation rushed through him again.

“Seriously, though. You’re too soft, firefly.”

“Hm. I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“No. I just think everyone else is too hard on themselves. And each other.”

“...You’re gonna be a great therapist.”

“Thanks. Hire me.”

──────────────────

Jihoon had his own fair share of meetings with professional counselors (especially in the midst of living such a hectic life as an idol), but he was worried whether you would be as cut and dry as they were, whittled down by years of academia. It seemed almost like they were reading out of a textbook, using vocabulary words like ‘empathy’ and ‘self-care,’ so he never saw it fit to return if it wasn’t necessary.

However, the places you’ve poured your time into left only glowing reviews for your passion and compassion for the field that you were in.

Jihoon was roused from his thoughts at his phone ringing on his desk. He looked at the Caller ID and saw a name he has been in and out of contact with for over a decade, it was your cousin. He picked it up. “Yo, hyung. What’s up?”

“Are you busy right now, Jihoon?”

“No. It’s a slower day today. Do you need something?”

“Yeah, just wanted to let you know that I’ll be in Seoul in a few weeks. Your noona and I are planning on celebrating saying goodbye to our single days by drinking way too much within the span of 12 or so hours. I wanted to see if you were down to join.”

“I probably won’t drink, but if it’s for you, hyung, I’ll go.”

“Nice. And you can feel free to leave after the dinner, we’ll just be at an apartment we’re renting out in Gangnam, since I don’t trust those fools to walk around the streets of Hongdae.”

“I’ll probably do that, I don't want to accidentally be caught by Dispatch.”

“Right, right. We wouldn’t want to sully the name of the best producer in all of K-Pop.”

“That’s a title I don’t think I’ll ever get.”

Your cousin laughed. “You never know, you might get that award sooner than you think, kiddo. Alright, I’ll keep you updated on our schedule. But uh…”

Jihoon knew his hyung well. He was about to bring you up again. “What about her?”

“I just wanted to ask whether you’d be interested in a meet-up with her. Not that we’ve asked her or anything, but I know we’ll probably meet up with her at some point, and I know it’ll feel weird if we’re not all together, you know? The four of us.”

“Yeah… I want to say that I’m courteous enough to wait for her response, but I just know that I’m willing to meet with her, if anything. Even just one last time.”

“That… sounds kinda sad, but. I guess I’ll take it. If you’re down, we could even make it a surprise on her end.”

He imagined your deer in headlights look but couldn’t think further than that. “Sounds like we’d really be putting her on the spot, if that was the case.”

“Hey, she’s rarely played it safe. Same with you. Might as well keep the flow going. And if anything, I’ll take the brunt of it all. She can’t stay mad at me for too long.”

“We both know that’s literally not true.”

“Okay, fine. Your noona can take the blame.”

“Wow, very excited to see how this marriage will go.”

His hyung laughed. “Amazingly, I’m sure.”

A thought occurred to Jihoon and he realized it was strange that he was mentioning it as an afterthought, as if it was something to be expected, something natural and normal. “Oh, hyung. By the way, I’m talking to Y/N again.”

Jihoon heard the undeniable ‘beep beep beep’ of being hung up and he stared confused at his phone screen until he saw another phone call from your cousin. He picked up with a, “Hello?”

Your cousin sounded much more flustered than he did just seconds ago. “Sorry. I hung up because I dropped my phone by accident. Say that again. You’re what?”

“I’m talking to her again. Kind of. I guess. Like, Instagram DMing went to KakaoTalk.”

“Jesus Christ, you slid into her DMs?”

“Can you not say it like that?”

“Can you say that that didn’t happen?”

Jihoon relayed the entire experience to him, only now realizing he didn’t even share all of the details with his members because it would’ve been too much teasing fodder from them. But your cousin, his hyung, was the kind of fellow that wouldn’t do that, even given the opportunity.

──────────────────

“Hyung,” Jihoon started one day, across from said person in a local Busan restaurant. “I don’t get how you’re single.”

“Why, you wanna date me?”

Jihoon’s eye twitched and your cousin laughed. Jihoon bit on his straw, the family style meal between the two young men long since devoured. “People compare us, you know.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “What’s there to compare?”

“I don’t know. So many people around us know how cool you are. You’re good at sports, you’re smart, you have a lot of friends, you’re handsome. Everyone always says you’re one of the best listeners they’ve ever met.”

“The trick is to not pay attention sometimes and just nod.”

“I’m gonna tell Y/N you said that.”

“I’m sure she knows,” he laughed. “Well, I'm honored that you think all of those things, but those are all traits you have too. You do realize that, right?”

Jihoon grunted. “Not… really.”

“Well, just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean others don’t. My cousin definitely does. She’s a good kid and has a good heart. Same with you. If you ever decide to do anything about those feelings of yours, just know that I approve.”

Jihoon nearly choked on his drink. “Wh–?”

“Oh, it was a secret?”

“Hyung!”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t say anything to her, don’t worry. And if you ask me, I’d say that you’re the only one on this planet that even has a chance. Well, except that girl from the cake shop.”

Jihoon sneered.

Fucking Woo Soyeon.

With her shiny hair and long eyelashes and doe eyes and tanned skin from her beach volleyball playing.

Giving out discounts to you like nobody’s business. Calling you cute and flirting nonstop while twirling a lock of her hair. Saying you’re her favorite customer. He could swear Woo Soyeon would throw a knowing smirk at him every time you stuttered a little too long when saying thank you.

That damned girl behind the counter, the one whose beauty and voice (“It’s just so velvety, you know? Like the chocolate cherry cakes.”) he knew you were smitten by.

She was even taller than him, especially in her heels.

At the ripe age of 15, Jihoon understood what jealousy was.

Because of fucking Woo Soyeon.

“Watch out, Jihoon. I can hear your thoughts all the way from over here.”

“Sorry.”

Your cousin laughed. “Trust me, you mean a lot more to her than cake counter girl. My cousin wanted all of us to go see the Christmas lights in the city together. You don’t see her inviting that cake counter girl, do you?”

Jihoon felt a weird sense of pride well up in his chest. Then immediately deflated. It felt stupid to feel like he won against a person who’s just trying to sell cakes to a loyal customer. “Hyung, how do you do it? You’d never let yourself get angry or jealous over stuff like this.”

The older of the two cocked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“You wouldn’t get jealous over a cake counter girl.”

“Says who? I get jealous. It’s normal, you know. Jealousy isn’t inherently a bad thing. It’s just what you do with it, right? Like, just because you’re jealous of cake counter girl, does that mean you stop Y/N from going to that shop?”

“What? Why would I do that? She loves that shop.”

“Exactly. Emotional maturity doesn’t mean you stop yourself from feeling the emotion, it just means you learn how to handle it as it comes. And once you practice it enough, it becomes easier and easier.”

“You make it sound easy, but it’s not.”

“Hey, I’m not anything big and special myself.”

Jihoon shook his head. “Hyung, you’re a superhuman.”

“No, I’m just human and letting myself be that,” he corrected. “Trust me, there’s plenty of good people out there. A lot of them just aren’t making the decision to do so. It’s easier to be cruel, but. I want to prove that you can be kind and still be a man. We get to define what that means. If I decided to be cruel, to become what society says is ‘a man,’ then I have no doubt Y/N would lose trust in me, and probably, all men.”

Jihoon noticed that his hyung stared at him for a second.

“Actually, maybe not all men.”

Jihoon felt embarrassed, but also honored, at the implication. “Thanks, hyung. You know, for not making fun of me. And for admitting that you also feel those kinds of things.”

“Absolutely, I’m glad I could help.”

“I’m seriously still surprised that you’re single.”

“Yeah, well. That might not always be the case if I can figure out what to do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well… you know your noona?”

──────────────────

Jihoon couldn’t help but shake his head at the way the events unfolded. Your cousin told him about his feelings for his future wife, but it still took a few years for anything to come out of that. He wondered whether being childhood friends had anything to do with it, as if the longer and deeper the bond, the riskier the chasm was to try to jump across.

However, your cousin still managed to do it.

“How did you do it, hyung?”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“Just… how did you manage to tell noona how you felt?”

The older man laughed. “You really think that it was me who confessed? No, no. It was her. I think she was tired of the back and forth that was happening between us. I mean, so was I, but I was a coward, but thankfully, she wasn’t. Now because of her saying that she loved me first, I get to be the one who says it last. Then we start again. It’s a dialogue, you see. It doesn’t matter who starts the line, as long as it continues.”

“Oh…”

“Am I proud that I was a coward? No. I sometimes wish it was me who said it first so she wouldn’t have any room for doubt. But we can’t go back and change the past, only commit to a better future. All of this to say, though, Jihoon, it’s been long enough of not saying anything between the two of you. I don’t think you want to wait any longer.”

“…yeah. I agree.”

That night, hours after preparing for the album, Jihoon’s fingers tapped away on his Notes app.

This waiting, it’s not easy to endure.

It was past 4am now.

But he didn’t want to wait any longer.

So, he switched apps and instead of a blank Note, he began typing into a message box.

i know its late. rehearsal never ends until 3am and i know that when u get texts you wake up even if ur phone is on silent bc the vibration wakes u up so im trying to type this all in one message so that it doesnt wake u up (hopefully) but i didnt want it to seem like i left u on read because i was upset or something. but i didnt want to message until i had the time to have a full conversation but i dont think thats happening any time soon anyway. when you see this i hope it makes sense im not sure if i am

A response from you was the last thing he expected, but you always managed to surprise him.

The first time he heard your voice directly in his ears, he thought he was going to spontaneously combust. But he tried to keep his voice level as he asked you about where you were leaning towards for your career.

The relief that rushed through him.

The hope that ignited in him.

That was the spark needed for him to explode.

And so he did, into words.

“I’m proud of you, you know?”

He heard your throaty stutter, one that only came out whenever you were really caught off guard. “Uh—what?”

“You got a whole ass PhD. From the best university in Korea,” Jihoon still couldn’t believe the two of you went to the same school. “You got offered a job at a super big school in America. One that’s super big in the field that you studied. You graduated from an even school for undergrad, a school that even I know the name of. And just… I know that people expect you to achieve because you’ve always been a genius, always so brilliant, but. You also work really hard. So I’m proud of you.”

He could barely hear your, “It’s not that big of a deal—” over the pounding in his ears.

“But it is, firefly.”

And suddenly he was brought back to all the years before. Where he spent more years in love with you than not. How that nickname encapsulated exactly as he saw you: inspiration, guidance, hope.

“I mean, I just—”

Your flustered response only encouraged him to continue. “You don’t have to believe me. But that won’t stop me from feeling it.”

“Jihoon, I—”

He didn’t realize just how much he’s missed hearing you say his name. But more than that, “I’ve missed you.”

There was a pause on your end, but he was done with his.

“I’ve missed you a stupid amount. Like us stealing your dad’s car to drive to McDonald’s at 3am and then running a red light on the way there. And then somehow almost hitting an entire flock of seagulls—” which he would never admit to being the reason he never wants to get behind the wheel again. “And then going to some random, deserted parking lot. And then realizing we didn’t know the way home, so we drove aimlessly, for, like, 45 minutes. And then panicking when we kept seeing the gas needle going down. That kind of stupid.”

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he was naming a memory that you no doubt remember as well, it was near traumatizing. But there was something in him that didn’t want you to forget. He didn’t want himself to forget. Because…

If I forget someday, as if nothing is wrong,

Our future will be empty and sad.

It’s not that I want to forget you.

Ah, he made a mental note to switch to his Notes app later.

“I… I missed you too.”

Jihoon couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his cheeks, almost to the point of straining them. It was already so late and he still had enough function in his brain to know he ought to cut this short now. Otherwise, he’d be on the phone with you for an ungodly amount of time. “I have to sleep now, but. I just. I couldn’t not tell you. That’s all.”

“Okay.” Your voice sounded so small, he had to press his phone closer to his ear to ensure he didn’t miss anything.

“Get some sleep, firefly. Or should I call you, Dr. Firefly now?”

“That sounds like a cartoon villain.”

He laughed hard at that. You would say that. “Alright, we’ll just go with firefly then.”

‘We’ felt good on his tongue.

“Night, night, Jihoonie.”

“Sleep well, firefly.”

He told you he needed to sleep, but with the way that he was running on sheer endorphins from finally releasing some of that pressure inside of him, sleep was the furthest thing on his mind. Instead, he imagined you getting some well-deserved rest, wondering what kind of dreams you hoped to have.

You were falling asleep, he was falling in love.

──────────────────

In less than 24 hours, he was going to see you in person for the first time in years, no more needing to find YouTube videos or podcasts or news articles or social media posts.

Tomorrow, he’ll be face to face with you.

And the dorm was in chaos.

“He should wear the white button down!”

“No, he should wear something funky, with cool patterns!”

“What? Absolutely not, hyung! Jihoon-hyung looks best in plain clothing, his skin shines that way!”

“Well, he’s been avoiding his skincare, so that might not be the best route to go down.”

“Hoon is handsome no matter what!”

Jihoon was exhausted. Why were his members more invested in this than he was?

Even Soonyoung was getting giddy. And that was a problem. When it came to you, Soonyoung was his voice of reason, but after he relayed the phone call he had with you, Soonyoung was easily won over by your: ‘I missed you too.’

“I knew it!” The tiger had exclaimed.

(Jihoon wasn’t sure whether he did.)

Junhui was thriving off of the chaos and was now leaping across the wooden floor, with Jeonghan quickly on his tail, trying to coerce him into stopping and failing miserably. Seokmin was still trying to convince Seungkwan that a funky pattern was like how, in nature, peacocks showed off to their mates—“he’s not a bird, hyung!”—while Soonyoung kept interjecting saying that Jihoon was attractive no matter what so he could just wear a plastic bag (which earned him a gentle slap by Seokmin). Mingyu disappeared for a moment after Wonwoo’s off-handed comment about Jihoon’s skin, only to return with his skincare products that Jihoon knew were going to be slapped on him soon enough. Seungcheol kept repeating in an exasperated tone, “Stop fighting, we already got a noise complaint this week,” while Jisoo and Minghao were probably off in Jihoon’s closet trying to establish an outfit for him without his consent. Hansol was on his phone, noise-canceling earphones on, completely uninvolved in what was going on. Chan was only goading on whoever was the loudest in the moment (currently, Junhui).

Jihoon piped up. “Do I get an opinion on this?”

In near perfect synchronization (including the boys in his room), everyone responded with a, “No!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

God, tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

[continue reading here]

#lee jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #seventeen fanfiction #svt fanfiction #seventeen #svt #세븐틴 #lee jihoon #woozi #svt fic #seventeen fic #woozi fic #mine #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen drabbles #svt fluff #seventeen angst #svt x reader #Spotify #woozi x you #lee jihoon x you

[chucky-vs-the-giant-tortoise]

sleepless nights

JJ Maybank x sister!reader

(REQUEST): Hiii!!! First of all i hope you're doing good🫶🏻 This idea just popped in my mind and I was wondering if you could write it. So sister!reader has trouble falling asleep so brother!jj let her hang out with the pogues for a little while so she'll maybe drift off easier but nuh uh that girl is still being restless then once she's tucked to bed, she keeps calling jj to come and sleep with her, because she only feels safe by his side♡ Thanks you!! I love your account so much mwahh💋

warning(s): N/A

a/n: thank you so much for being my very first request, my dear. i took a few liberties with your prompt but i hope you enjoy it all the same. i am very grateful for your support!

JJ had tried everything.

He'd tried bedtime stories and back rubs, he'd hummed old Disney songs and offered mugs of warm milk. Hell, he'd even tried good old fashioned bribery, promising all the sweets and plushies her tiny heart desired in exchange for a good eight hours of shut-eye—but to no avail.

This kid just would not sleep.

JJ watched dejectedly as Y/N plucked at the strings of Kie's ukulele, curiousity shining in her large eyes. She'd been at it for a few long minutes now, her tongue poking out of her mouth from the sheer intensity of her concentration as she composed a grating, pitchy version of 'music'.

In hindsight, bringing a very lively Y/N around his very wasted group of friends wasn't one of his better ideas, but the blond had grown desperate. Nothing was working—for whatever reason the five-year-old just wouldn't go down. He'd hoped that being around the Pogues would pacify her somehow—that their late night conversations around the fire could serve as a comfort to Y/N's reeling mind—but, unfortunately, lady luck just wasn't on his side tonight.

John B whooped and hollered as Y/N teased her final note, clapping exaggeratedly at her lacklustre performance. "Nice goin', Poguie! You've got some crazy skills." Y/N beamed from where she sat propped up in Kiara's lap.

"Encore!" Pope exclaimed in support, but JJ intervened before the young girl could start in on her next 'song'.

"No. No encores." He put a hand out to stop his sister from assaulting the ukulele any further, motioning that it was time to make her way back to him. The initial agreement of her staying with the Pogues was that she not stray from JJ’s lap, but it hadn’t taken long for that expectation to fly out the window. "It's getting late, Y/N. C'mere."

“Just a little longer, JJ, please?”

“We passed ‘a little longer’ fifteen minutes ago.”

Y/N pouted, slumping back into Kie's arms. “But Jay—"

"Now, Y/N. I'm not playing anymore." Y/N huffed. She knew not to fight with her brother when he got that severe edge to his voice, even though she wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her night treating the Pogues to their very own VIP concert.

The young girl shuffled over to her big brother with a sour face, sinking into his arms without a fuss. She could tell that JJ was annoyed with her—he'd been too busy dealing with Y/N to have had the privilege of drinking, and without the alcohol to boost it, every minute he spent awake further weighed on his mood.

"Boooo!" Kie heckled. "You're such a party pooper, JJ."

"Yeah, man."

"Big papa's mad," John B continued, earning a chorus of drunken laughter from the rest of the Pogues. JJ only rolled his eyes, adjusting himself so that Y/N could reluctantly rest her head on his chest.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up JB. See what happens the next time you need me to fix the Twinkie's engine." John B only pouted in response.

"Oh, come on, dude! You wouldn't let the ole girl die now, would you?" JJ cracked a smirk.

"Keep laughin' and y'all are gonna find out."

Y/N felt her eyelids growing heavier as she listened to the Pogues lose themselves in rapid-fire banter and shoulder-shaking laughter, the warmth of the fire caressing her back. She found comfort in the way her brother's stomach would tremble with the occasional chuckle, breathing in sync with the steady beating of his heart.

She'd spent the past twenty minutes playing with JJ's fingers, spinning the rings on his digits as he spoke, and the boy looked down at his sister with a smile when her hands eventually fell limp against his palm.

"Close your eyes, peanut," he whispered, though she might as well have been asleep already. Her lashes fluttered as she looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, clearly losing the battle she'd been fighting with sleep. "I've got you."

"Mm-mm," She mumbled, burying her head in JJ's t-shirt. He couldn't help but smile despite her defiance. Whether or not the Y/N was being difficult, she was pretty damned cute. "I wan’ stay up."

"I promise you're not missin' much, kid. Pope's jokes really aren't that funny."

"Hey!" The boy interjected, having now abandoned whichever one of Kie’s stories he'd been enthralled in only seconds before. From what JJ had gathered, it had something to do with Rafe Cameron and a golf buggie.

Y/N joined in with the Pogues as they mocked Pope’s now wounded ego, emitting quiet giggles that just barely stifled a yawn. JJ sighed. Though it was a pain, he would be lying if he said he wasn't impressed with Y/N’s determination to stay conscious. "How 'bout we get you to bed now, hm?"

"No," Y/N persisted, fighting not to shut her tired eyes. "I wanna stay with you."

The older boy patted his baby sister's back, pressing a long kiss to the top of her head. "How about this, kiddo. If you promise to shut your eyes and keep 'em closed, you can stay right here. That sound good?"

He barely had to tell her, it seemed, because Y/N's small body had gone limp against him before the words had finished leaving his mouth. JJ chuckled lightly, brushing a few hairs away from her now closed eyes.

"Finally," He breathed, kissing her head once more as he wrapped Y/N in a protective embrace. It had taken four long hours, but the small girl had finally given in to rest. "Y'all better quiet down. If Y/N wakes up it's on your goddamned heads."

"I don't think she's waking up anytime soon, Jay," Kie chuckled. She was right, JJ thought—Y/N would be having one Hell of a late morning tomorrow.

"Gotta hand it to her, though. Kid put up a good fight," John B said, raising his drink and saluding to Y/N before taking another swig of beer. “She’s one Hell of a Pogue if I’ve ever seen one.”

“You gonna bring her in?” Pope asked, and JJ considered it for a moment before shaking his head.

“Nah, man.”

He watched attentively as Y/N’s chest rose and fell with steady breaths, her small hand fisting a handful of his shirt. It warmed his heart to know that through all of her fussing and restlessness, all Y/N had really wanted was to stay by her brother’s side.

In that moment, JJ swore to never let her go.

“I think she’s good where she’s at.”

#obx #outer banks #the outer banks #requests open #request #jj maybank #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj maybank x sister!reader #jj maybank x sister reader #jj maybank x reader #sister!reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagine #maybank!reader