#it's not a story i've spent much time with tbh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelsgoldrush · 11 months

Text

swore i heard you whisper that you preferred us like that

joel miller x f!reader / 5,8k words

summary: you ask joel –the quiet, distant joel– to teach you how to ride a horse. they say the eyes are the window to the soul, and it must be true, because when he really sees you, it´s like he finally understands what you feel for him.

warnings: smut 18+ let’s pretend joel never left jackson, porn with plot, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, joel is 56), grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, pet names, unprotected p in v (don't try this at home ok), dirty talk, soft!dom joel (sort of???), a bit of angst/feelings, joel gets all babygirl around reader, ellie appears for like a minute, mediocre attempt at recreating joel's southern accent (sorry in advance)

a/n: hello??? well this is my first fic ever so bear with me, i'm still new to all this. also english isn't my first language so i'm afraid there may be mistakes (mostly when it comes to collocations bc i hate them and they confuse me), buuuut i'm learning obviously and if you find anything that should be corrected PLEASE TELL ME thank you :) i'd appreciate if you told whether you liked this story (idk what to call it tbh) but if you don't it's more than fine! anyways thank you so much for reading if you come across this fic, i hope you like it! i've spent a week writing it bc finals season is killing me <///3

here's my masterlist in case you want to read my other works :)

"Oh, my drunken southern star / How you tried to hide in darkness / Slipped from orbit / Now you’re dangerously close / Come out, come out from all your hiding out / We’ll dig in our heels, salute the battlefields / Where our broken hearts were born."

What is it that he has?

You used to ask yourself that question every night as you went to bed. On some occasions, you couldn't manage to come up with an exact answer. There were too many reasons that disclosed why a man like him lingered on your mind, even in those moments that were supposed to be for you and only you. Sleeping more than three hours a day was definitely something you needed tremendously, but still, the not-so-rational voice inside your head kept on bringing his name up without fail, disturbing your rest.

Joel Miller. Was it possible to feel like this? Like you knew somebody without having exchanged more than five words with them? Sure, there wasn't a single person in Jackson who wasn't aware of his existence. From whispered rumors in the streets to stories that intended to give his reserved personality an explanation, Joel became a real talking-point among those in the commune. Years ago, when the world was still just a floating ball in space, he would’ve frightened you, being the kind of person your parents used to warn you about as you started to grow older.

He walked a certain way, as if he were holding the suffering of many lives in his hands. Always on guard, prepared to fight those who defied him. Hidden knives in his pockets, a gun between his fingers, the trigger too tempting to be pulled at any time given. His hair was a mixture of brown and gray, and you swore that the latter was only becoming more prominent as days went by.

Suddenly, your pillow felt too uncomfortable, your hands fisting the fabric of your t-shirt while you kicked the blanket resting on top of your bare feet. A sigh escaped your lips, the taste of something you couldn't even distinguish on your tongue, your unsteady breath being the only sound to be heard in that noiseless night.

You were having a hard time figuring out how you felt about Joel (if there was anything to feel in the first place, since he barely remembered your face and there you were, fantasizing about him instead of sleeping.) Maybe you liked how he presented himself, how bossy and persistent he looked the times you caught him patrolling around the zone. Or perhaps it was his character what charmed you in the first place, and the fact that, deep down, a different side from him remained completely unseen.

He was handsome, too. Tall, broad shoulders, aquiline nose. His arms looked majestic in every single piece of clothing he wore, his tanned skin shiny enough to reflect the very same sun. And his legs… you were sure they were muscular like the rest of his body, because of all the physical effort he did. You had heard that he worked as a contractor before the pandemic, which made a lot of sense. Once or twice you had paid attention to his hands and–

Then, a familiar feeling sinked in. Warm began spreading through your belly, your thighs involuntary clenching together. “Fuck,” you muttered in a low tone, keeping your hands glued to your sides. Another motive not to think about Joel: he made you feel… things. Certain things that you hadn't felt for anyone in a very long time. You preferred to think that it was probably due to the fact that you were touch-starved, and not because you found yourself deeply attracted to him. Never had you ever been a sexually active person, so why now? Why did the mere image of Joel in your mind turn you on?

He’s strong. I’m alone. I feel the need to find someone who’s willing to protect me. That’s it. No other reason.

Your internal monologue was lacking in arguments, but it was definitely something you could work with. As if on cue, you found it hard to keep your eyes open, your limbs not feeling as if they were yours anymore. Next thing you knew, you were asleep.

That night, you dreamt with Joel.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

In a small cabin, you taught children how to paint and draw. Maria believed it to be helpful for their psychological development or something like that, and you had agreed to do it. A good way to spend your free time– that’s what it was. Plus, you liked children; some would even choose to include you in their drawings, and that small gesture just warmed your heart.

There, you met Ellie, a teenager whose basic vocabulary consisted mostly of profanities.

And boy, you loved Ellie.

It was hard not to, actually. She was like a breath of fresh air, with her jokes and instant charm. You two became attached in a short time, and she reminded you of a younger version of you, just a lot braver. Although in this world it brought her benefits, you sometimes wished she wouldn’t have gone through all that shit. Those eyes, which squinted as she laughed if you tickled her sides, were the cemetery of many buried memories. You wondered how she managed to put a smile on her face despite her past and the horrible things she had seen, hoping it was genuine and not a mask.

“Look!” her voice brought you back to reality. Blinking in her direction, you realized the amount of paint you had dropped onto the floor, a red stain already forming on the carpet. “Are you okay? You seem off.”

“I’m fine! Just a bit sleepy today, that's all,” you got closer to where she was lying down, her fingers moving the brush you had gifted her in different directions. Squatting a bit, you placed a strand of hair that didn’t make it into her ponytail behind her ear. “So, what are you painting?”

She smiled warmly, and her teeth catched her lower lip momentarily. “It’s not finished, okay? Don’t freak out. I know you’re a perfectionist.”

“I’m not…” you tried to explain yourself, but ended up choosing to be defeated. “Maybe you’re right. Anyway, may I see it?”

The canvas was in your hands a few moments later. Ellie spoke beside you, her words mixing together in a sign of embarrassment. “It’s for Joel. Figured I could do something nice for him, you know? I don’t– I think I need to start over. His eyes look kind of strange, don’t they? They’re so close he looks like a cyclops.”

“Don’t say that, kiddo. This is… it’s beautiful,” your index finger traced the lines framing his jaw, the shades of his skin perfectly achieved. You held the painting even tighter, afraid of breaking it for a second. He wasn’t frowning like he normally did; Ellie had painted him smiling, and the crinkles by his eyes matched his age. Surely you must have spent more time than necessary staring at it, ‘cause then Ellie continued talking.

“Well, you know what they say: The student has become the teacher.”

You handed the canvas to her, a smirk taking place on your face. “Yeah, I guess I’ll stop teaching you if that’s the case.”

An hour or so later, someone knocked on the door. As both of your hands were occupied (a more formal way to say that they were dirty with paint), you screamed “Come in!”, and Ellie covered her painting with an old, muddy curtain you used to clean the tables in which the children worked. You were about to ask her why she had reacted in that way, until you turned around and saw him.

Joel was there, as every other Wednesday. In your cabin, standing right in front of you. And you didn’t even look presentable. His hair looked messy, a couple of locks stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Hi,” he said shortly, meeting your gaze and attempting to shake your hand, but you avoided contact.

Showing him your hands, you held your palms in the air as an indication of the still fresh paint on your skin. “Sorry. If I were to accept the gesture, I’d leave you a stain.”

He retrieved a bit, adjusting his glove. “It’s okay. Safety first.”

That was supposed to be a joke, you noticed tardily. The silence in the room persisted until Ellie appeared from behind your back, already putting her coat on.

“You were supposed to pick me up in half an hour, asshole.”

His mouth snapped shut for an instant. “I missed you too. How was the class?”

Ellie lifted her shoulder in a half shrug, looking in your direction and proceeding to jerk her thumb toward Joel. She didn’t want him to see the painting. “Fine as usual.”

“Can I see what you’re–”

“No fucking way!” she accentuated the word fucking, drawing him closer to the door.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not done.”

“But–”

“No more questions, Joel. Let’s go! Say bye!” Ellie handled him like a baby, which made you giggle.

Though you saw Joel raising his eyebrows, so you stopped laughing.

Soon, they left and the cabin returned to its familiar quietness. A sigh erupted from your chest, and you allowed yourself to fall on top of a chair.

At least you could say you had actually talked to Joel for once.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

It didn’t surprise you that you wanted to see him again.

Not in the “you-turn-me-on” way, but in the “you-seem-interesting-and-i-need-to-find-out-why” one.

He had something. Something so magnetic and indecipherable that kept pulling you towards him. Something that made you look for his presence in every crew, and not sensing what it was only made your wishes to dissect him grow bigger. There was a tiny probability that he was an idiot with a pretty face. Who knew? You definitely didn’t, and that needed to change. You deserved to know if pining over that man was worth it or not.

That chain of thoughts led you to look for him the next day, almost trembling with eagerness as you asked him the most stupid and unexpected question you could have imagined.

“Would you teach me how to ride a horse?”

He looked at you as if you were out of your mind, opening his mouth a few times and then closing it before he actually replied to you. “You’re tellin' me you don’t know how to ride a horse?”

“Tried it a few times, but failed and now I really want to learn to do it properly,” you swore his eyes were trying to decipher if you were saying the truth or not. “Ellie told me that you could probably make some time to teach me?”

“So Ellie's in charge of my schedule, I suppose?” you froze on the spot, and he must have noticed it because then his expression dulled. “Sorry, sweetheart. It was a joke. I've been told I'm not the best humorist.”

Sweetheart. You could’ve died a happy girl.

“Look, why don’t we meet up tomorrow after lunch? I'm sure it won’t take us much time. Not a difficult task, y’know?” he stroked his beard, apparently thinking you understood what he was talking about.

“Sure. Thank you, Joel. My name’s–“

He didn’t let you finish. “I do know your name,” and before leaving, he repeated: “I’ll be here tomorrow. You know where to find me.”

To say that you slept without interruptions that night was an understatement. Each hour seemed to become longer the more you glimpsed your watch. Your heart drummed inside your chest violently, and you feared that someone else would be able to hear it if they got close enough to you.

After having lunch in the same spot as every other mundane day, your legs took you to the stable. You took a shaky breath, expecting him to appear out of thin air, but fifteen minutes went by, and there was still no sign of Joel. Pressing your forehead against the wooden door, you wrapped your arms around yourself. “What was I even thinking?”

“Hey.”

You looked to your side and– there he was, already getting inside the stable and inviting you to follow him. Joel petted one of the horses, clicking his tongue. His fingers caressed the animal’s back, and when he shot a glance at you, he didn’t ignore your disturbed expression.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of horses.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” you laughed awkwardly, eyeing the horse, which stared at you with those big and strange eyes. You raised your hand to mimic Joel, but that just made the animal move further away from you. “I guess it’s mutual. We don’t like each other.”

Joel smirked, guiding you outside. “It’s a damn horse. I don’t think you can tell whether he likes you or not. You gotta change that attitude of yours,” he murmured as he got on top of the horse, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Treat him well and he’ll be nice.”

At first, Joel taught you the basics: how to position yourself for balance, get your legs in the right position, hold the reins properly. A little bit of help coming from him was needed for you to mount the horse. He got down on one knee, patting it as if it were a mounting block. “Come on. Step on it.”

No need to ask me twice, you thought as you did what you were told, and once you were grabbing on those reins for dear life, you observed him with curious eyes. “Now what?”

“Now…” he pressed his hand into one of the horse’s sides, and afterwards, the horse began to fucking trot and you cried out, a high-pitched shriek slipping from your mouth. Joel laughed maliciously, almost hypnotized by the scene. “Now is when you learn how to ride a horse!”

“This isn't funny!” you screamed, the horse still very much entertained with the way you were jerking on top of him. “Stop!”

You couldn't believe how he kept… cracking up. Joel touched his stomach, shaking with laughter. “You’re a natural, can’t you see it? I’m havin' the time of my life here.”

“What I can see is that you’re an idiot! Cut the cackle and help me!”

But he didn’t move a single muscle. Instead, he remained still, that smug look never abandoning his features.

The bastard. “You’re gonna make me beg? In this situation?”

Crossing his arms while teasingly grinning at you, he added: “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Joel Miller, will you help me? Pretty please?” your hair was getting in the way, and you could taste it as you insisted. “Is that enough for you?”

It was, actually. He helped you get down from the horse, his thick fingers digging into the mushy skin of your waist. It shouldn’t have felt that good, but it did. You were supposed to be angry at him for setting you up and still, by touching you for a microsecond, he had transformed you into something malleable.

Sadly, that feeling didn’t last much longer. “Didn’t know you were a man of manners. Should’ve told me beforehand.”

“Didn't know you could scream like that. I hope you didn’t freak anyone out.”

The two of you continued to practice until nightfall. A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man. Everytime you tried to quit, he stopped you, making it impossible for you to rest. You stared at him, rubbing the back of your sore neck with a grimace. “I’m tired. Can we go back?”

“One more time.”

“Joel–”

“Trot a couple of meters just one more time, and that’s it for today. Can you do that for me?”

You tried not to pay too much attention to his choice of words, although it was basically non-viable. He looked sinful, and you longed to shut him up with a bruising kiss. Again, a hopeless option. Your hands itched to touch him, to feel his stubble, rough and coarse under your thumbs. How could you stay focused when the man you had been daydreaming with for the last couple of months was bossing you around?

Despite your inability to clear your head of any of those thoughts, you managed to accomplish what he had asked you to do. “Well done,” he offered you his hand to dismount the horse and you accepted it, sighing as you stretched out your arms. “We should take him back to the stable,” Joel suggested, giving you the impression of being pleased as you told him you were coming with him.

Inside the stable, he relocated the horse into one of the many stalls. Unbelievably, the place didn’t smell like absolute shit, which was what you were expecting from a barn. “Thank you for the lesson,” you told Joel once he was done with the horse.

“Anytime,” he scratched his jaw, the dim light making his dark eyes look, if possible, even darker. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“No. You were right,” your heart thrummed with every word that he blurted. His presence was addictive. You were never the one to have any bad habits, but deep down, you recognized that he easily could develop one. “I thought you were less talkative.”

“So did I,” for an instant, he pressed his lips together, forming a tight line, as if he had said something he shouldn’t have in the first place. “I think I didn’t ask you this before: but why now? I mean, why did you wait so much time to learn how to ride a horse? Everyone in Jackson seems to know how.”

You cleared your throat, his piercing eyes peering at your movements. “I guess I thought it wasn't necessary back then, before all this. It's one of those things that you don't even consider until it becomes inevitable. I used to believe I had a lot of time left when I was younger,” you had never talked about this with anyone else. There was something so intimate about this conversation, how Joel stood seemingly tongue-tied in front of you, as if he were taking notes of what you were confessing to him. “I remember being a kid and not wanting to use my toys sometimes because I kept waiting for the right moment. But then…”

“You realize there’s no such thing as the right moment,” he finished the sentence for you, and you bowed your head. “Life can end at any moment, especially in a world like ours. That’s why you always gotta do what you wish to. We never know what’ll happen tomorrow.”

“Live for today, hope for tomorrow? That’s your creed?” you tried to mock him, the tension in the stable far from evident, but he didn’t move.

“It’s the way I try to live my own life. I don’t like being left with the desire to do somethin’ I could’ve done earlier. Too old for that.”

Maybe you were gradually losing it. Perhaps just a little. It couldn’t be a coincidence, right? Had he noticed how you acted around him? Were you that obvious?

“So, you would advise me to just…”

“Do whatever you feel right, sweetheart.”

That raspy sweetheart made you give in.

His eyes. His penetrating, gleaming eyes scrutinized your face at the same time you closed the distance between your bodies. From there, you were able to see every freckle, every small detail that you hadn’t previously acknowledged. He parted his lips, as if to speak, but no words other than your name came out. One of your hands made its way up to his cheek, cupping it, feeling the warmth his skin radiated. His head immediately leaned into your touch, like a moth into a flame.

You kissed him, unable to keep waiting. It took him what felt like ages to kiss you back, his fingers tangling in your hair. He absorbed your whimpers, pressing your back against the nearest wall. Maddening– it was the perfect word to describe how being kissed by Joel felt like. When you thought he was going to draw away from you, he just held you tighter until your lungs implored for some air. Your knees had never felt this weak, and you found yourself grabbing onto his shoulders, already feeling the places where his stubble had left its trace in flames.

“Joel…” you mumbled against his lips, detaching your mouth from his. Your erratic breaths seemed to sync together like a melody, and you tugged at the collar of his jacket.

He knew, could see it on your features. “Wanna go to yours?”

Joel took you home. The moment you set foot in the cabin, he closed the door behind him, his hand lingering on the handle as he contemplated you from a distance. You took your coat off first, starting to unzip your pants. There was silence long enough to hear crickets in, the moon up in the sky being the only bystander of your meeting. His eyes roamed the newly exposed skin of your legs and you observed him gulp.

“Did something happen?” you asked him, a flush crepting up your face. Taking a step forward, one of his hands came to rest on top of yours.

“No, it’s just that– Are you sure you want this?”

Crinkling your nose, you uttered: “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m just too old for you,” he warned you, running a knuckle down your cheek. “You should be with guys your age, y’know? Not with an old man like me.”

“I want you,” reassuring him, you got rid of your t-shirt, and the fact he was still dressed up from neck to toes lit some kind of fire inside you. His calloused fingers fiddled with the strap of your bra until it slipped off your shoulder. “This is what I want. Please, Joel.”

It turned out that Joel Miller certainly was a man of manners.

You couldn't help but moan as he grabbed you by the waist, dragging you to the couch by the window and straddling his lap, his hard-on finding its place beneath you, pulsing and in need of more. His tongue brushed yours ever so often, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his teeth latched onto the skin of your throat. Joel groaned, the sound, low and primal, having its desired effect on you, your hips involuntarily grinding against his in a delicious but tormenting rhythm that already had you on the verge of tears.

“Joel, please,” you managed to plead, not knowing precisely what you were asking for. His hands cupped your ass, imprinting his fingerprints on the soft flesh, forcing your hips to go harder and harder. The harsh fabric of his pants was definitely going to leave a mark on your cheeks, and thinking that helped you realize that you were the only one –almost– naked. You reached for the buttons of his denim shirt, your lips hovering over his. “Take your clothes off?”

He did the rest himself, throwing his jacket to the floor. When he got to his jeans, he cocked his head. “Why don’t we move this to the bedroom, if you’re so goddamn needy?” The few guys you had been with had never been very talkative during sex; there was even this one specific boy who had asked you to not make a sound while he fucked you.

But Joel wasn’t like them. It was just starting and you had already realized that he had a dirty mouth, an expectant look on his face every time he waited for your reaction to his words. “Now you’re quiet, huh? Thought you wanted me to fuck you, darlin',” one of his fingers pressed down on your clit, stimulating it through your underwear. He sighed, stopping his movements and pressing the damp pad of it against your lower lip, urging you to taste yourself. “You’re wet, baby. So fuckin’ wet. Have you been like this all day? Bet you would’ve let me take you right there in the forest.”

“Oh my God,” you whined next to his ear, your whole body trembling with desire. “Take me to bed,” you begged him, and next thing you knew, he was grabbing you as if you weighed nothing and heading towards your room.

Not knowing how, you kept your hands to yourself until he placed you on top of the bed. Joel shoved his jeans down and you didn’t think twice– you stroked his length, the fabric of his boxers only making the slow drag of your hand more satisfying. His long fingers circled your throat, and you moaned as you kept eliciting exquisite noises from him. “Let me take care of you,” his dilated pupils carved holes in your being, his grip doing nothing to cease the ache between your legs. “Please, baby. I need to make you feel good. Been thinkin’ about this for so long.”

“What?” you slowed down your pace, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “You wanted me?”

“Why do you think I began to pick Ellie up from your classes, huh? Because I’m a good, generous man?” Joel parted your knees, getting closer to where you required him the most. “I’m sorry to ruin this, but I’m far from good. Just wanted to see you and your pretty face. Didn’t know if we were on the same page until you came lookin' for me, askin' me to teach you how to ride a damn horse,” you hadn’t noticed your bra was missing till he cupped one of your breasts, flicking your nipple between his fingers. “I’m sure there were many other people you could’ve asked to teach you, but you chose me, didn’t you?”

“Don’t want anybody else,” your lips chased his, a drop of sweat already rolling down your temple. “I didn’t– didn’t know you noticed me.”

“How could I not? If you could only look at yourself like I’m doing right now… You’re a sight, sweetheart, all spread out for me,” removing your panties, he kissed the skin where your inner thighs met, his tongue darting out to draw imaginary figures on your flesh. His mouth was just inches away from your cunt, and you had to tell him.

“Joel?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never– nobody has ever done that for me.”

He seemed to understand what you were referring to. It made you tense a bit, despite the fact that you were completely naked in front of him, basically begging him to tear you apart. Still, the realization that you weren't as expert as him hit you out of nowhere. Yeah, it was all fun and games, kissing and touching probably the hottest man you had seen in your almost three decades of life. But said man was a lot older than you, and he had lived his best years in the real world, not this fucked up version you grew up in. You were sure he had been with many different women, which wasn’t a problem– you two were nothing.

“Nobody has ever tasted ya’? That’s what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” you nodded quickly, shoving a strand of his graying hair back away from his eyes. Joel chuckled languidly, squeezing your hips. “Do you want me to? It’s okay if you don’t. We can try somethin’ else.”

“Please,” you’d have time to embarrass yourself later, thinking about the amount of times you had repeated that word. But certain moments were to be lived only once, and though you hoped it wasn't the case, you had to take the chance. “I want you to.”

Four words. It took Joel four words to disappear between your legs, licking a hot stripe up your folds. You nibbled on your bottom lip, a loud moan filling the void of your dorm. He drew sweet patterns in your cunt, discovering a part of you that no one else ever had, and you couldn’t help but to grind against his face as he dipped the tip of his tongue into your entrance. Breathing wasn’t a necessity anymore. You felt as if all the air in the world was being punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter the more Joel spent his precious time keeping you entertained.

At some point, he focused his attention on your clit, circling it over and over again, making you shudder. Suddenly, the pad of his middle finger tested the waters, and he slowly slid it into your cunt, earning a strangled whine from you. Burying your hands in his hair, your glossy eyes looked for him for a second. You shouldn’t have done that, because as you took in the sight of Joel with his own eyes closed, browns knitted, your nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was even possible to want somebody that much.

“Joel, wait, I’m– fuck,” your jaw went slack and you scrunched up your face, two of his thick fingers nudging that spot that made you see stars. “I’m close.”

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart. Don’t know why you say it in such a dry tone,” his mouth curved into a smile, his chin and stubble shining with your slick.

Your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. “I don’t want to come yet.”

“But you will.”

A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man.

“Joel–“

“I’ll make you come with my mouth, and then with my cock,” dizziness was starting to blur your vision, your eyelashes fluttering with every hard thrust of his fingers. You glanced up to the ceiling, tears filling your eyes. “Think you can do that for me, be my good girl and come twice?”

You bobbed your head. It was official: he was going to make you come.

Drawing in a long breath, you could feel the unbearable pressure in your core. His name sounded like a prayer on your lips, chanting it in the same way some people expressed their devotion to a certain God. You had your own personal deity, whose tongue accomplished to push you to the limit, licking every drop of your release as if it were a special kind of forbidden elixir.

Your shoulders sagged and you relaxed under him. Joel kissed you, an open mouthed and filthy kiss crowning that moment as you panted. Through the cotton fabric of his boxers, you felt his hard-on poking your thigh. Shoving his underwear down, you took him in your hand, hot and just big, stroking him for real this time. You twisted your wrist at the tip, and he slumped forward, almost crushing you with his entire body weight, his breath dampening your neck. “Wanna fuck you, baby,” he croaked, his hips chasing your touch.

Out of all the scenarios you had ever imagined, none of them included being split open by Joel. You had a very vivid imagination, but no amount of creativity would’ve prepared you for what his cock would feel like inside of you. He bottomed out, his arms shaking where they rested on each side of your head. Joel’s breath quickened as he pulled out, just letting the tip, and then thrusting into you again.

“Fuck,” you didn’t recognize your own voice. It was even hard to decipher if you were still alive or dead from how magnificent he felt.

“So good, sweetheart. You’re so good, such a good girl,” he groaned, fucking deeper into you. His cock pulsed inside you, your cunt squeezing him. “Can’t believe how– how tight you are. You’re gonna make me lose my f–fucking mind.”

It was just too much. You hadn’t even recovered from your last orgasm before Joel started pounding into you like his life depended on it, the obscene sound of skin slapping skin ringing out in the room.

“You gonna come, huh? Gonna make a mess?” you could sense he was also close, his pace faltering as seconds went by, words slurring together. He pressed his forehead against yours, clenching his fists and taking in a sharp breath. “Fuck. I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.”

Come inside, you wished to tell him, to feel his seed dripping out of your greedy hole, painting your walls. But you weren't on the pill; it was also the first time you were sleeping with Joel, and you didn’t know how he would take the… suggestion. “Close,” you yelped instead, tears shimmering in your eyes as Joel’s body hovered over you like the most perfect eclipse.

His thrusts became more frenzied, if possible. “That’s it, darlin’. Come for me,” your gaze fixated upon him, his eyes flickering with hunger. “Wanna see you when you soak my cock.”

Your body went limp, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. Soreness took place in your throat as you moaned his name through the aftershocks, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids. Going rigid, you let go of Joel’s shoulders. He pulled out, mumbling something you didn’t quite catch. You fisted his cock, trying to give him the release he so yearned for. Joel kissed you, messy teeth and saliva taking part of it. Heavy on your hand, his dick twitched as you squeezed the base, roped of his warm cum splattering your belly. The scene reminded you of a painting; he was the talented painter, and you his blank canvas, waiting to be signed with his name.

It was the turn of silence now. None of you said anything for a while, until Joel used his boxers to clean up his cum from your stomach, smiling apologetically at you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” your fingers delicately traced the contours of his chest as he reclined, enveloping you in the embrace of his strong arms. “Will you stay?”

Please say yes.

“Only if you want me to.”

Moral of the story: learning how to ride a horse can actually be nice if your teacher happens to be Joel Miller.

3K notes · View notes

charmedreincarnation · 6 months

Text

Hey, guys! I've been receiving a ton of messages in response to my last post. It's reminding me of how I first discovered shifting. I feel like doing a little story time since Ive just passed the three-year mark of my discovery, and I've been reminiscing with friends about it.

I remember being in a very dark place when I stumbled upon shifting. I was depressed, and very suicidal. Yet, there was this unshakeable optimism inside me that I was meant for an extraordinary life. Despite my mental state, I had a lot of knowledge of subliminals and the law of attraction (-_-). These gave me hope, but they weren't enough tbh. I didn't want to attract my dream life through practicing gratitude or becoming a magnet for my desires or whatever. Nor did I want to have to listen to subliminals for years on end to achieve my goals. My list of desires was so long, and I needed everything to change that going step by step and waiting years for each one to manifest just wasn't feasible.

But I refused to give up. One day, after a particularly hard day of being sad per usual, I searched on Quora for something like "fastest most powerful subliminals on YouTube ever" (Y’all 😭😭). Among the recommended sub creators, I found a video called "Desired Life: Reality Shifting". The description promised everything I had ever wanted: waking up with all your desires fulfilled permanently in short. It piqued my curiosity so much. Could I really just wake up with my dream life, family, house, wealth, all based on my scripts and imagination?

Growing up, I was a heavy maladaptive daydreamer. From ages 10-17, I created alternate lives in my head, telling myself I would go there someday. I was always doing SATs (State Akin to Sleep), and I think that's what kept me from ending it all. I was constantly in the wish fulfilled state, even though I didn't know what that was at the time.

Back to my story, I went into the comments of that video and came across a guy who claimed that after a week of using this subliminal, he woke up with a new life as a multi-millionaire living in his dream penthouse. I messaged him, and he gave me his Instagram which showcased his luxurious life. He had what seemed like a perfect relationship, he was very attractive, had so many cars, and travelled 24/7 while having a six figures amount of followers. He was living proof that this wasn't just scripting. Also the law of attraction community is known for their mad expensive coaching.. like hundreds of dollars per hour for questions and he was answering it all for free something I didn’t see the law of attraction community. And I talked to him for hours! He never got mad, he had proof, and he was kind, proof and the behavior of someone who really had mastered the art of life.

After our conversation, I spent the next couple of months doing research. I found numerous stories about glitches in the matrix, accidental shifting, people entering parallel realities, and eventually, shifting communities on platforms like Amino and Reddit. It was stuff I already believed in and did in my imagination; I just didn’t know there was a term for it.

Then I got reminded of a memory that I had seriously repressed bc it was so fucking weird. When I was 6 and my brother was 3, we were absolutely obsessed with dodo birds. One day, we were outside playing, and on god time seemed to stop. Out of nowhere, a dodo bird appeared. I know you’re probably like “maya be so fr rn you were a kid” but no, This wasn't just our young imaginations running wild - there was a bird that was huge, dinosaur-like, exactly how dodos are described in books and pictures we had.

Then things got weirder. Suddenly it started raining eggs. Big, large eggs everywhere it was so gross and my brother and I were a mess. We were young, sure, but not stupid. We knew this wasn't normal. My brother and I rushed inside to tell our dad. When I managed to drag him outside, he was furious, accusing me of throwing eggs everywhere. To this day, he tells the story of the time I "trashed the backyard with eggs." And every time, I'm like, "Dad, where would I get that many eggs?" We didn’t have eggs but so he assumed I stole them and we went inside for hours and it was magically cleaned. So he also tells the story of how responsible I am and how I took accountability for my actions even as a child. I didn’t clean that shit bro and I tell him that too and he just laughs it makes me so mad.

My brother, who knows I'm into reality shifting (though he doesn’t really believe in it), can't explain that day either. He often shrugs it off as a "glitch in the matrix," which honestly, well no duh it is a shift dummie. He does believe in manifesting but only bc he has seen me use it and he experiences the good things I manifest as well. They’re the same thing anyways but that isn’t the point

The reason I'm bringing up this bizarre childhood memory is because during my months of research into shifting, I found countless stories of accidental shifts, people entering the void, entering parallel universes, time glitches, examples of the Mandela effect first hand, glitches in the matrix and etc. It was like uncovering a myriad of experiences that confirmed what I already believed: we can change and choose our reality. I just didn’t know the phenomena had a name. Obviously in the future I came across other things like the law of assumption, the void state, etc etc but this was where it started.

I wish I had saved all those fascinating stories, posts, and blogs. I might go back and compile everything I found because they were so real and enlightening. It will probably take forever tho if I do choose to do that, but I think it's worth sharing.

In the meantime, check out this accounts of accidental shifts that my friend shared with me this account https://instagram.com/tessicavision?igshid=OGQ5ZDc2ODk2ZA== based off the Glitch in the Matrix subreddit which is also a goldmine of people experiencing similar phenomena. It helped me make sense of my own experiences and might do the same for you.

I don’t want this to be too long and I already got to the point I think! but regardless stay curious and realize you’re really not that special. I mean ofc you are, i mean this is not some tumblr thing teens girls discovered or created and isn’t even limited to “spiritually/manifesting inclined people” I think at the beginning of my journey people talking about accidental shifts and such, inspired me more than purposeful success stories because they really have no reason to lie and they were looking for answers just like I was.

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #reality shifting #shiftblr

476 notes · View notes

rabbitsrants · 7 months

Text

SHINICHI KUDO IS TOO MUCH

guys, i'm currently working on the "reasons why shinran is one of the most brilliantly written romances of all time" masterlist and i came across this part of the manga:

chapter 44

AND I AM LAUGHING MY ASS OFF

shinichi is absolutely RUTHLESS in this chapter. correct me if i'm wrong, but this has to be his angriest moment throughout the entire series? i don't remember him acting this way in any other chapter 😂 like... shinichi is the type of guy who saves murderers from suicide, it's a well known fact that he values human life more than anything, HE'S A DEEPLY IDEALISTIC PERSON, YALL, THAT'S THE MAIN TRAIT THAT DEFINES HIM AS A PERSON and he straight up tells this dude (whos about to slit his own throat btw) TO GO AHEAD AND KILL HIMSELF

this is the most unhinged i've ever seen him 😂

now, let me be serious for a second. obviously, shinichi strongly suspected that the culprit wouldnt go through with it - he spent the entire case trying to cover up his murder after all, that's not something a suicidal person does. still though. the fact that shinichi was willing to risk it says so much about his love for ran. cause that's what his rant is about. the culprit tried to kill ran on multiple occasions and almost succeeded a couple of times. if there's one thing that shinichi can not handle, it's ran being in danger. he'll lose his composure every single time and he will lash out, even at innocent people who are just trying to help:

chapter 640

this man is so devoted to ran, it hurts.

that's why im so shocked everytime the fandom implies that ran is an irrelevant character who doesnt contribute anything to the story. if (for whatever reason) ran stopped being in the picture, the story would end right then and there.

people seem to forget that shinichi has prioritized ran over cases on numerous occasions (that aspect of their relationship deserves its own post tbh, i'll hopefully get to it in the future), he completely loses his mind everytime there's even the slightest risk that she might get hurt and this case right here? chapter 44? that's the wildest shit shinichi has ever said 😂 the part about justice was spot on and very in character for him, but the rest? it was brutal... and very unlike him. which is shocking, considering that ran was completely unharmed. do me a favor and let that sink in: the end of chapter 44 was merely his reaction to the thought of losing ran - he completely lost his shit. now, if ran actually stopped being in his life? shinichi wouldn't just lose his temper, he'd lose himself.

for the record, this isnt me implying that he would go rogue or whatever. the reason why shinichi is so angry in chapter 44 is because ran is okay and tangible, so he still has something to lose. but if she was gone? if she stopped being his life? he wouldn't be angry, he'd be inconsolable. if the level of anger displayed in chapter 44 and 640 is what we get when shinichi simply worries about ran's safety, just imagine the level of heartbreak that we would witness if he genuinely lost her.

shinichi loves and needs ran so much, it's unfathomable for most people, including me. everytime i think i cracked the case and finally figured out how much shinichi loves ran, he proves me wrong. and while i think that most cold cases are a tragedy, i think im coming to terms with leaving this one unresolved. after all, love is the most mysterious force in the universe. and always will be.

visit the shinran library for more

#ran's not the only person who's difficult to deduce #shinran is too powerful #i love them #shinran #shinichi kudo #ran mouri #detective conan #case closed #dcmk #ship analysis

236 notes · View notes

gomapda · 16 days

Text

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]

62 notes · View notes

cupajoscafe · 1 year

Text

Night In | Shikamaru Nara x OC

YOOOOOOOO WHATS GOOD HOMIES I HOPE YALL ARE HAVIN A GREAT DAY!!!! i finally finished the art so that means i CAN POST THIS FIC HEHEHEH this was a lot of fun to write, it was another self indulgent piece of smut from my oc's story!! i really dont know if i have much else to say about this tbh 🧍‍♀️ i guess other than if you dont like ocs or fics about ocs then just go somewhere else bc thats all i post here HAHAHAH ANYWAYS ill be posting the full art on my twitter account and then be linking to it when it's up! i hope yall like this i really worked hard on it 💜

Pairings: Shikamaru Nara x OC

Word Count: 9.5k

Genre: Smut

Warnings: None

Contents: 18+ MINORS DNI. Pre-established relationship, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, toy use, anal, spanking, breeding kink, overstimulation, squirting, sir kink, use of "daddy", unprotected sex, creampie with the intent of impregnation. Entirely self indulgent. No editing, we die like women. If I missed any, please let me know!

Summary: While having a nice night to themselves, Shikamaru's wife tells him that their son wants a little sibling.

Being a parent to a toddler was hard work. The diaper changing, the clean up after playtime, the meal making, not to mention the fatigue from constant sleepless nights. Shikamaru was lucky in that regard; he spent most of his time at work as Kakashi's right hand helping him run the village. He did his best to help out when he could, of course, but since his job was so demanding, it meant that Yuuna was at home most of the time looking after their son. It was exhausting.

But none of that was even the worst part. The hardest thing was the fact that their time together was so limited. Because Shikamaru was always at work, he often didn't come home until late, and rarely had any time off. And when he did get home, Shikaro would fuss and the couple would have to find a way to calm down their son. By the time he was feeling better and had fallen back to sleep, they would be too exhausted to spend time together and would go right to bed. So when Yuuna's brother offered to babysit for the night, she couldn't have been more excited.

"You're serious? You'll look after him tonight?" She grinned, holding her son in her arms. Shikaro reached a hand out to his uncle and touched his face, running his little hand across the burn scar over Tetsuya's left eye.

"Yeah, totally!" He confirmed with a chuckle as his nephew curiously explored the damaged skin on his face. "I know you could have pawned him off on Shikamaru's mom, but it's been a while since I've had some quality time with my little buddy."

Shikaro reached out to grab Tetsuya. The man took his nephew from his sister and held him up, planting a smooch on the toddler's cheek. The toddler cooed happily, wrapping his arms around his uncle's neck. Yuuna let out a giggle watching her brother dote on her son and sighed.

"Thank you, Tetsuya. You have no idea how much this means." She gave her brother a sincere smile, extending a hand out to touch him gently on the arm.

"Hey, it's no problem. I figured that since I'm cleared of missions until the weekend, I could lend a helping hand." He looked at Shikaro and hoisted him up a little, shifting his weight. "You and Shikamaru both work so hard and could use a break, so it's the least I can do as your brother."

She smiled at him again and looked over at her son. "Whaddya say, buddy? Do you wanna hang out with uncle Tetsuya tonight?"

"Yah yah!!" He clapped, looking down at his uncle. "Unco Tetsu, Unco Tetsu!!"

"I'll take that as a yes, huh?" Tetsuya laughed, planting another kiss on the toddler's cheek.

"C'mon buddy, let's go see daddy at work and then we'll get ready, okay?" Yuuna said as she grabbed Shikaro from her brother's arms.

"Yah yah!! Gonna see daddy!" He exclaimed excitedly.

"I'll stop by around three and drop him off. That work for you?" She suggested, turning back to her brother.

"Yeah, sounds perfect." Tetsuya smiled. He grabbed Shikaro's hand and squeezed it gently. "I'll see you soon, little man!"

The siblings turned and walked away from one another with a wave, and Shikaro called out after him.

"Baibai Unco Tetsu!!" He exclaimed with a smile, waving happily after him. He looked up at his mother and she met his eyes. "I get to play wif Unco Tetsu today mama!!"

"You sure do, buddy!" She giggled, nuzzling her nose against his. "Are you excited?"

Shikaro nodded and turned back to watch his uncle walking away. "Mama, I wanna brover to play wif me and Unco Tetsu!" He turned back to look at his mom, who stopped walking for a minute to look at him. "Can I have a brover? Pweeeeeease?"

Yuuna had to stop herself from bursting into laughter before she continued on their commute. "Maybe. I'll have to see what daddy says. No promises."

The walk to the Hokage's office didn't take long. As Yuuna walked down the hall, two members of Team Guy were leaving the office. Shikaro noticed the familiar faces and demanded to say hi to his auntie and uncle. Neji had to practically pry Tenten away from the toddler so they wouldn't be late for their mission. Once the duo was gone, Yuuna walked up to the office door and knocked lightly, waiting for the invitation into the room.

"Come on in," Kakashi called out from behind the wood. Yuuna opened the door and smiled brightly as she locked eyes with her husband.

"Hey, what are you two doing here?" Shikamaru chuckled, walking over to his family. He turned to Kakashi, "Sorry, do you mind if I excuse myself for a sec?"

"Of course, take your time." Kakashi grinned.

The Nara turned back to his wife and son and placed his hand on her back as he gently escorted them out of the office and guided them a little ways down the hall. Shikaro reached out for his father who happily held him in his arms.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you two," He started, looking from Shikaro to Yuuna. "But what are you doing here? You don't usually come by the office."

"Well, I have some good news!" She exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "My brother wanted to look after Shikaro tonight, to give us a break! Which means if you're not here too late, we can finally have an evening to ourselves!"

"I'm gonna play wif Unco Tetsu today!" Shikaro reiterated, enthusiastically throwing his hands up into the air.

"Oh, is that so?" Shikamaru grinned looking at his son. The boy nodded his head. "Well, that sure sounds like it's gonna be a whole lot of fun, huh?"

"Yah yah!! Gonna hab a play day!" Shikaro clapped his hands together. Shikamaru looked at his wife and raised an eyebrow.

"You know my mother's gonna have a fit when she finds out that he's staying with Tetsuya and not her, right?" He chuckled.

"Yoshino's had plenty of time with him!" Yuuna countered. "Not that I'm not grateful for the help she's given us, but she always jumps at the opportunity. So when Tetsuya offered, of course I said yes. I figured it would be nice for him to have some uncle-nephew time with him, y'know?"

He hoisted Shikaro up a little and softened his expression slightly. "Just don't tell my mother that. She's gonna be on my butt for not being able to dote on her grandson."

Yuuna giggled and took a step closer to him, placing her arms on his. "Don't worry, she'll never know." She stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his lips. "So, think you can finish early tonight? Thought we could cook dinner together and then maybe watch a movie or something."

He looked over his shoulder at the office door, then back to his wife. "It's been pretty slow today, I think I can swing that."

She bounced on her toes excitedly and clapped her hands. "Awesome!! I'm dropping Shikaro off at Tetsuya's in about an hour and a half. I can start dinner when I get back."

They began to head back towards the office. Shikamaru looked down at Yuuna as they walked and smiled. "I can probably be home around four, if that works."

She nodded as she curled her fingers around the doorknob. "That's perfect." She opened the door and the couple walked back into the office. Shikaro's eyes lit up when he saw Kakashi and he cooed happily. She took him from her husband and held him closely.

"Everything alright?" The Hokage asked casually. The couple nodded.

"We're finally getting a break tonight and I wanted to plan dinner, that's all." She giggled.

Kakashi hummed and leaned back in his chair. "That's good to hear. You deserve it with how hard the two of you work."

"It's been kinda dead today, think I can call it early?" Shikamaru asked, turning to look from his wife to Kakashi. The Hokage looked down at the stack of paperwork on his desk and swiveled in his chair a little.

"I think once we get through this stack, I can handle the rest for the day." His eyes crinkled as he smiled under his mask. Shikamaru gave a subtle smirk as he turned to look at his wife and son.

"There you go, you heard it yourself." He spoke, placing his hands in his pockets as he shifted his weight. "Gimme a few hours and I'll be home, sound good?"

Yuuna beamed up at her husband and nodded. "That sounds perfect." She turned back towards Kakashi and gave a small bow. "Sorry for showing up unexpectedly, thanks for letting me talk to him."

Kakashi chuckled and waved a hand dismissively in front of his face. "No, no, it's no problem. You're welcome to stop by whenever you like, you know." He took note of the toddler staring and cooing at him, then waved at him. "And Shikaro is welcome to visit his father any time he likes, too."

Yuuna hoisted the child up a little and chuckled. "Shikaro, say hi to Lord Hokage!" She requested, waving her hand at Kakashi to demonstrate. He looked at his mother and then at Kakashi and smiled, waving back at him like she was.

"Hi Lord Hokage!" He chimed, waving excitedly. The adults smiled at him and all chuckled in unison.

"Alright, well, we'll let you guys get back to work." Yuuna sighed with a grin, turning to face her husband. She reached up onto her tiptoes to plant a kiss onto his lips. "I'll see you when you get home, baby."

Shikamaru placed a hand on her arm as she kissed him, stroking it gently when she pulled away. "Sounds good." He looked down at his son and cupped his hand around the back of his head gently and leaned down to plant a loving kiss on his forehead. "Be good for mommy and Uncle Tetsuya, okay?"

Shikaro clapped and nodded. "Okay, I pwomise!!"

They shared their goodbyes and went back to work and Yuuna headed back home to the Nara residence. Once home, she let Shikaro run around the house to collect his favourite toys and pajamas while she packed his essentials. He came running back with two armfuls of different toys and stuffed animals he wanted to bring, but they managed to narrow it down to three items after some fussing. She let him hold onto one and packed away the other two. Once his bag was packed and ready to go, she threw together some quick snacks for him to eat before she brought him over to her brother. Whatever he didn't eat she packed away into a lunch box and included it with his overnight bag.

The time to leave came quickly, and Shikaro couldn't have been more excited. He made the decision to walk instead of having his mother carry him. Yuuna walked close beside her son and watched as he waddled along, holding his hand and guiding him in the proper direction. When they reached Tetsuya's apartment Shikaro ran inside with an excited screech. The siblings laughed and Yuuna handed off Shikaro's overnight bag to Tetsuya. She called her son over to say goodbye, picking him up and planting a motherly kiss on the child's lips. She hugged her son tightly and set him down and he ran back off into his uncle's house. She then pulled Tetsuya into a hug as well. They exchanged goodbyes and then went their separate ways.

On the way home, she decided to stop by the market and pick up some ingredients for dinner. Once they were purchased she headed home and began to sift through her fridge and cupboards to find everything that they'd need to make their meal. It wasn't long into the preparations when she heard the front door open.

"Hey, I'm home." Shikamaru called out from the hallway. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his flak jacket, setting it down on the couch as he passed by the living room. He wandered into the kitchen and stood behind his wife, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning down to press a kiss to the side of her head. "I haven't heard the house this quiet in years."

"I know, and we have all night to enjoy it!" Yuuna giggled as she started peeling a potato. She turned her head slightly to look at him and smiled. "Now come help, I wanna cook together!"

He sighed and kissed her head again, releasing her from his grip. He reached into the drawer and pulled out a large kitchen knife and began to chop the carrots that Yuuna had already peeled. They stood at the kitchen counter together, enjoying one another's company as they prepped their dinner. Once everything had been cooked, Yuuna poured them some drinks and they sat down at the dinner table to eat. They took the time to catch up with everything that they'd missed from the other. Having a toddler and different schedules made it difficult sometimes to hold casual conversations, so they hadn't had a chance in quite some time to be able to sit down to talk the way they were doing now. They kept their conversation going all throughout dinner, and when they were finished eating they helped one another clean up. When the last dish was washed, they brought their drinks over to the sofa where they sat cuddled up next to one another. Yuuna looked up at her husband and smiled over her wine glass.

"Cheers to having the house to ourselves for a change." She chuckled, holding her glass up in front of her. Shikamaru eyed her wine glass with a grin and chuckled, clinking his glass against hers.

"I'll drink to that." He smirked, taking a sip of his beer.

He draped his arm around the back of the couch, letting his fingers trace circles on her shoulder. She rested her hand on his thigh, running it up and down his leg as she took another sip of wine.

"I love you, baby." She hummed, looking into his eyes. He planted his hand down on her shoulder and pulled her in close to him, pressing his lips against hers in a sweet kiss. He pulled away after a minute and looked into her emerald gaze.

"I love you too, noodle." He grinned, closing the gap between them again. She hummed contently against his lips, then pulled away to take another sip of her drink.

They sat there for a moment, looking into each other's eyes, tensions slowly building as the alcohol in their systems gradually began to take effect. He continued to rub her shoulder, slipping his hand underneath her sweater to drag his fingernails along her bare skin. Her hand began to move higher and higher up his leg every time she stroked back up his thigh. She shifted a little, moving closer to him with a goofy smile on her face.

"So Shikaro was asking about wanting a brother today." She mentioned, heat rising to her face. Shikamaru took another sip of his beer and placed the empty glass down on the coffee table in front of them.

"Oh he did, did he?" He spoke quietly, inching his face closer to hers and resting his now free hand on her knee. Yuuna finished off her wine, placing her empty glass down to accompany his on the table.

"Mhmm," she nodded, looking between his mocha eyes with a smile, "He was saying he wished he had a brother to take on his play dates and asked me if he could have one."

"And what did you tell him?" He began to rub his hand from her knee up her thigh. She bit her lip lightly as she felt her heart pounding.

"I told him I'd have to ask daddy." She reached her free hand up to cup his face, rubbing her thumb along his cheek as she looked at his lips.

"Well, whaddya think? Should we give him a sibling?" He pulled her closer to him, their lips barely touching, "'Cause daddy wouldn't mind fucking another baby into you."

She let out a shaky breath, her eyelids fluttering at the words that dripped off his tongue like honey. A tightness arose in the pit of her stomach and she surged forward, pressing her lips hard enough against his to make him lean back. She glided her hand up his thigh and over his crotch, rubbing his stiffening erection with a smile. He let out a low groan at the stimulation, in turn sliding his hand down from her shoulder to her breast. He massaged her flesh between his fingers, pulling it out from her bra for easier access. She parted her lips and dragged her tongue across his mouth, pushing it past lips to meet his. He leaned forward and pushed her down onto her back, rolling her sweater up to her collarbone and unclasping her bra. He began to knead her tits between his fingers as his tongue lashed against hers, slating a knee between her legs as she ground down against it.

"So desperate, I guess you do want daddy to fuck a baby into you, huh?" He growled hungrily, tugging at her lip with his teeth as he flicked his thumbs over her nipples. She let out a quiet moan, breathing heavily as she rutted her hips upwards against his knee. He kissed her again, their tongues meeting in a heated dance for a moment before he pulled away. "No need to be quiet this time, there's nobody else here. I wanna hear just how good I make you feel."

Shikamaru shifted his head down just enough to be able to take one of her nipples into his mouth, flicking at the bud with his tongue. She let out another quiet moan into the air. Unimpressed, he bit down on her nipple harshly, eliciting a loud yelp from his wife.

"Ow, what the fuck was that?" Yuuna scolded, brows furrowed and face flushed. He licked at the nub again, sucking on it gently.

"I said you don't have to be quiet." He pulled away from her chest with a loud pop and looked into her eyes with a mischievous smile. "I wanna hear every noise that comes out of that pretty little mouth of yours, and I want to hear it loud. Gotta hear how good I make you feel."

Before she could respond he immediately took her nipple into his mouth again, flicking his tongue against it quickly as he pinched the other between his fingers. She moaned again, louder this time. He smiled against her skin as he kneaded her breast in his hand, a hungry growl resonating in the back of his throat.

"That's my girl," He huffed as he continued to lap at her sensitive nipple. She rolled her hips forward against his knee again and brought one hand up to the back of his head, threading her fingers through his hair and loosening it from his hair tie. She breathed out another sultry moan and could feel his lips turning up into a smile against her skin. "Fuck, you're so needy, aren't you?"

"Gimme a break, it's been a minute since the last time we fucked." She joked with a pant, reaching her hand down into his trousers to curl her fingers around his girth. He let out a loud groan and bit down lightly on her nipple as he rutted his hips into her hand. She smirked down at him and bit her lip. "Looks like you're just as needy for me, huh?"

He pulled away from her with a pop, her breast bouncing as it settled against her chest again. Shikamaru frowned down at her and sucked the air through his teeth, his face flushing red as her grin grew wider.

"What's the matter?" She cooed, giving his cock a few steady pumps and running her thumb over his slit. He huffed out another low groan, his eyes shutting as his hips involuntarily bucked forward into her handq9. "You're not getting flustered, are you?"

He opened his eyes and grimaced, furrowing his brows as he swiftly shifted his thigh from between her legs and replaced it with his fingers, slipping them under her leggings and gliding them over her soaking panties. She opened her mouth to gasp but he shoved his tongue into her mouth to stifle the noise before she could. "Would you just shut up and let me take care of you?" He growled as he pulled away for breath, the small string of saliva that connected their tongues dissipating. "Quit being such a pain and let me take the reins, would you?"

Yuuna's eyelids closed half way as she looked up at her husband. Normally she would be a bit more stubborn and protest, but tonight was different. It was the first time in months that they'd been able to be together like this without having to worry about being too loud or too discreet. So she decided to bite her tongue, just this once. She smiled up at him and spread her knees apart, allowing him to move his hand freely. He scoffed in response, moving in to kiss her again as he slipped his hand under her panties to touch her bare skin. She moaned loudly into his mouth, removing her hand from inside his pants and wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him in closer.

"That's more like it." He slid his fingers through her folds, slicking them with her arousal before dipping his middle finger into her sex. He began to leisurely move his digit in and out of her hole, closing the gap between their faces again with a slow, passionate kiss. "Such a good girl, so wet for me." He chuckled as he pulled away for air, adding a second finger to stretch her out a little more. She bit her lip and moaned with a smile, looking up at him as she ground her hips against his hand.

"'Cause you make me feel so good," She whispered, running her hands along his arms. He smirked down at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah?" He inquired, tilting his head to the side a bit with a grin. He continued to move his hand at a slow and steady pace, his eyes fixated on her emerald gaze. "Why don't you tell me just how good I make you feel, huh?" He began to move his wrist quicker, feeling her walls clench around his fingers. She panted and tugged at the sleeves of his shirt, grinding down hard against his hand.

"So good," She whimpered, her brows turning upward in a longing expression. "Fuck, feels so good, love it when you play with my pussy baby."

He felt his cock twitch under his pants as she spoke so boldly, slowing his wrist movement again and diving down to take one of her nipples between his lips once more. He lashed at it with his tongue, and when he was done he dragged his mouth across her chest to the other one to do the same. She moaned loudly again, in turn causing Shikamaru to groan against her flesh. He trailed his tongue up her chest to her collarbone, then to her neck, then to the shell of her ear. He suckled on her earlobe as he continued to thrust his fingers into her.

"Daddy's gonna fuck you so good tonight." He growled into her ear, tracing his tongue along her earlobe before shifting to look down at her with a devilish grin. The look alone was enough to make her cunt throb. He felt her clench around his fingers and he slid them out of her hole to circle her clit. "Sounds like you're into that, aren't you?"

She nodded her head and ground her hips against his digits, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss. As soon as their lips met, they let their tongues explore the other's mouth, swirling around in a heated dance. Shikamaru slipped both hands into the elastic waistband of Yuuna's leggings and underwear, and slid them down past her ankles and off of her legs. He began to shift backwards on the couch, kissing down her neck as he went. His lips traveled to her collarbone, then across the expanse of her chest, then down to her stomach, and then stopped as he hovered his lips above her aching clit. He massaged her inner thighs, squeezing them and running his hands up and down, pulling apart her folds to get a good look at her dripping, trembling hole. He shifted forward slightly to kiss her clit, and again, and again, spreading her pussy open. She whimpered at the sensation, bucking her hips forward. He looked up at her as he held her lips open, kissing her nerves again.

"What's the matter?" He grumbled with a sly grin on his face, his lips just barely touching her flesh as he spoke.

She grabbed onto the back of his head and tried to pull him forward but he didn't budge. She tried to grind her hips forward but he pulled back every time, denying her the relief she wanted. "C-C'mon, please, I need it," She whined, brows turning up to look at her husband desperately.

"Need what?" He chuckled as he continued to pull apart her folds, teasing her further. "You know I can't give you what you want unless you tell me what it is."

Her face burned hot. He did this every time, and he knew it was a surefire way to get her flustered and submissive. She bit down on her lip and gripped down onto his head. "L-Lick my p-pussy," She whispered, averting his gaze. He squinted at her and called out to her to bring her attention back to him.

"If you're gonna tell me what you want, you better look me in the eyes when you tell me," He growled between her legs, "Otherwise I'm not doing a goddamn thing."

She could feel her cunt trembling again as he scolded her. She swallowed and looked him in the eyes, face hot and flushed, "I–...I want you to l-lick my pussy, please," She pleaded quietly. Her clit throbbed as he spread her cunt open again, swallowing as she saw him smile.

"I don't quite think I heard you." He growled, breath hot on her skin, his lips once again barely touching her sensitive bud. She gripped down tightly onto his head, grasping at his hair, watching him with needy eyes.

"I want you to lick my pussy," She spoke loudly, her body trembling as she felt the build up of pressure in her gut, desperate for release. "Please, I w-want you to lick my pussy and make me cum…!!"

Without another word, Shikamaru dove forward and began lashing his tongue against her clit and she immediately let out a lewd moan that echoed through their empty home. She ground down against his tongue as it lapped at her clit, pulling one of her hands up to her breast to massage the flesh between her fingers. He let out a soft groan at the taste of her on his tongue, wrapping his arms around her thighs and holding her against his mouth as he continued to devour her sex like he'd never get another chance. He dug his fingernails into her thighs and nodded his head along as he licked from her entrance to her clit and then back, dipping his tongue into her entrance and fucking her with his mouth.

She moaned out loud again, flicking her thumb over her nipple as her other hand buried itself in Shikamaru's hair, watching as he ate her pussy like a starved animal. He groaned again at the taste of her on his tongue, pulling out of her clenching walls and whipping his tongue against her puffy clit. Her breathing became laboured as the telltale signs of her approaching orgasm were drawing closer. He shifted one hand from her thigh, inserting two fingers into her hole as he began to thrust. She bucked her hips forward, grinding against his face as her moans got louder and louder, doing nothing but spurring him on more. He grinned as she squirmed around, using his free hand to press down hard against her womb, keeping her in place.

"C'mon, baby, cum for Daddy," He grunted, watching her blissful expression as he pleasured her. He could feel her walls tightening around his fingers and the corners of his mouth turned up into a smug smile as he listened to her falling apart on his tongue. "Atta girl, cum for me, yeah?"

With his instruction, Yuuna's back arched up off of the couch as she rode his tongue and fingers, her eyes rolling back into her skull with a lewd moan as she climaxed. Her body shook and squirmed as she rolled her hips against his face, riding out her orgasm, panting to catch her breath. He continued to suckle on her aching clit as she came around his fingers, lips pulled into a triumphant smile as he watched her expression of pure ecstacy. As she came down from her high she bucked her hips and writhed around, her entire body sensitive from her orgasm. He pulled his fingers out from her soaking cunt and sat up, crawling overtop of her with a huff. He leaned in close and shoved his tongue past her lips, cupping the back of her head with one hand as he held her face against his. A lewd moan slipped out of her throat at the taste of her pussy on his tongue and it sent a throb right between her legs. He pulled away to catch his breath and she panted beneath him, eyes glassed over with pleasure.

"You're gonna walk over to the bedroom, get naked, then get on the bed on all fours. Your ass better be up in the air by the time I get in there, understood?" He growled, glaring down at her with a primal hunger in his eyes. She nodded her head a few times and was shifting to get off the couch. Unsatisfied with her response, Shikamaru scoffed and gave her a light slap on the cheek. He grabbed her face between his fingers and squished her face, forcing her to look up at him. "Is that how you address me?"

"Y-Yes sir," She answered again, speech impaired slightly from his hand squeezing her lips together. He smirked and released her face, pulling back from her to allow her to sit up.

She scooted off the couch and quickly made her way to their bedroom. Shikamaru watched her as she walked down the hallway, making sure to get a good look at her ass as it bounced with every step she took. When she was out of sight he let out a satisfied chuckle. With one arm draped over the back of the sofa, he moved the other down to fist his cock and give it a few steady strokes. When he heard the creaking of their bed, he stood up and walked down the hallway to the threshold of their bedroom. As he had requested of her, Yuuna had removed her clothes and was laying face down on the bed, her legs spread and her ass up in the air. He smirked and strolled over to the bed, removing his trousers, and sunk his knees into the mattress behind her.

He ran his hands along the expanse of her ass, giving it a squeeze before landing a harsh spank against her skin. She jolted and let out a yelp. He massaged her ass cheek to ease the pain before repeating the process until the skin was burning bright red. He fisted his cock again and gave it a few steady pumps before sliding it through her dripping folds a few times, then pulled his hips back and slapped his shaft against her asshole. He wrapped her ass cheeks around his cock as he began to slowly grind his hips forward. She let out a quiet, needy moan at the sensation, feeling her cunt throb at the thought of his cock inside her.

"F-Fuck, p-please," She whined, wiggling her hips invitingly. "N-Need it, n-need your cock."

He leaned forward, pressing his chest against her back, kissing the back of her neck. "What do you need, huh?"

"Fuck me," She replied without hesitation, backing her hips up against him. "Need your cock inside me, n-need you to stretch me out, p-please…!"

He chuckled at her desperation and kissed her neck again, then down her back. He sat up and ran his cock through her folds again, coating it with her arousal before pushing the head of his cock past her entrance. He pushed his hips forward and buried his cock deep into her cunt, the head of his cock pressing against her cervix. She mewled loudly, the position allowing him to hit deep into her pussy. She began to bounce her hips on his cock, her face pressed into the pillows as she panted. He grabbed a handful of her ass and squeezed the skin, gripping onto it tightly as he matched her pace.

The room quickly filled with the sounds of lewd squelching, skin slapping, and lustful moans. Shikamaru tipped his head to the side as he watched his cock disappear into her cunt, fucking hard into her soaking pussy with ease. He let one hand rest at his side and pressed the other flat against the small of her back, holding her down. He huffed with a devilish grin as an idea crossed his mind. He spat down onto her asshole and circled it with the pad of his thumb. Yuuna's body reacted to the sensation and he could feel her walls tightening around his cock. He then slowly inserted his thumb past her rim down to the first knuckle.

"Fuuuuuck–...!!" She moaned, her eyes rolling back as he began to thrust his thumb in and out of her asshole in rhythm with his cock.

"Like that, don't you?" He grunted, sinking his thumb deeper into her hole. She nodded in agreement, moving one of her hands to her clit where she began to rub it with her fingers. He felt her walls clench around his cock again and he pulled his thumb from her ass, spitting down on it again and inserting his middle and ring fingers instead. She groaned hungrily as he scissored his digits inside her hole, bouncing her ass harder against his cock and fingers, flicking quickly at her clit. "Yeah, that's a good girl."

Her eyes crossed and her brows furrowed upwards as she felt her orgasm drawing close. He inserted a third finger into her ass, thrusting hard as his cock throbbed inside her cunt. It was enough to push her over the edge, and she screamed out loud as she came around his cock, rubbing her clit fast as she let her orgasm take over her body. She twitched underneath him, her knees trembling as she continued to slowly trace circles around her clit and back her hips up against him.

"Look at you, falling apart on my cock like a dirty little slut," He groaned, slowing his hips and leaning forward so his chest was pressed against her back. He ground his cock lazily into her hole, kissing her neck and nibbling on her earlobe. "What do you say to me for making you cum, huh?"

"Th-Thank you," she sputtered, her eyes halfway closed and her hips shaking as she felt his fingers moving inside her ass and his cock sliding in and out of her hole. He scoffed and used his free hand to grab onto her face and pull her head up, locking eyes with his wife.

"Thank you what?" He grunted, leisurely rutting his hips against hers. She swallowed and a quiet moan slipped past her lips.

"Th-Thank you, sir," She slurred, eyes fluttering halfway closed and rolling back into her skull getting drunk off his dick.

He grinned and released her face from his grip, pressing his lips to her cheek and licking at her salty skin, "Atta girl." He pulled his head away from hers and sat up, pressing his free hand flat against the side of her head and pushing her into the pillows. He tipped his head to the side and watched his cock disappear inside her, pulling his fingers out from her asshole and instead dug them into her hips. The lustful whine she gave didn't go unnoticed. Shikamaru squinted down at her and sucked the air through his teeth. "What's the matter? You want this hole filled up too?"

He felt her nod under his hand and the wicked grin on his lips only grew wider. Keeping himself buried deep inside her cunt, he stopped moving to reach over to her bedside table. He opened the drawer to find her hidden stash of toys he knew were there. Leaning over, he reached into the drawer to pull out her bottle of lube and her favourite toy; a large, mint green, silicone dildo. He'd come home late a handful of times to see her shoving it quickly back into the drawer to try and hide it, but he knew right away what she was hiding from him. He opened the bottle of lubricant and squeezed some of the water-based liquid onto the tip of the dildo, letting it drip down the rubber shaft. He pressed the head of the toy up against her asshole.

"This what you wanted?" He inquired with a cocked eyebrow and a sly grin as he once more began to move his hips against hers. She looked at him over her shoulder, eyes hazy and full of lust.

"Yes sir," she squeaked, nodding her head and staring at the silicone toy. Her mouth began to water and she licked her lips. He scoffed and furrowed his brow.

"And what exactly is it that you want?" He pressed, rutting his cock into her at a lax pace. He could see Yuuna's face burn bright red and it brought a grin right back to his face.

"C-Cock…in my a-ass…" She mewled, pushing her hips back against her husband and the toy in an attempt to satisfy her need for feeling full. She swallowed thickly and picked herself up, supporting her weight with her hands and fisting the bed sheets beneath her. She turned her head to look at him and meet his eyes with a needy whine. "P-Please, want you to fill me up, f-fuck my ass and my pussy."

He let out a groan and shoved the dildo into her ass all the way to the base and she let out a cry of mixed pleasure and pain. The sudden gesture caused her to lose her balance and she fell forward, burying her face in the pillows once more. He leaned over her, ramming his cock deep into her sex as he thrusted the toy swiftly in and out of her ass.

"Dirty little slut," He growled, pressing his lips against her shoulder and biting at her skin. She let out a slew of moans as the pressure built up in her gut once more. He smirked against her salty skin, moving both his wrist and his hips at a steady pace. He glanced back to watch the green cock slide in and out of her tight ass, grunting as he moved the toy quicker. He continued to ram the fake cock into her hole, matching the pace with his hips as he plowed into her cunt. The intensity of the combined thrusts was enough to send her hurtling towards another orgasm, crying out his name in ecstasy as her vision went white.

Her eyes crossed and her body convulsed as she gripped onto the pillow, tears spilling down her cheeks at the immense pleasure that racked her body. He huffed and slowed his pace to catch his breath.

"That's my good girl," he praised, kissing her shoulder again. He moved his lips to meet hers, licking into her mouth and groaning against her tongue. He pulled away with a pant, saliva dribbling down his chin as his tongue lolled from his mouth for a moment. He pressed his lips against her ear and whispered, "You're gonna get on top of me and fuck yourself on my cock, understood?"

Her eyelids fluttered as he spoke and she compliantly nodded her head. She felt his body moving away from hers and whined when he pulled out of her holes. He sat behind her for a moment and gave her ass a light spank, groping her flesh in his hands and pulling her ass cheeks apart. He watched as her hole twitched and gaped now that it was empty, smirking from above her.

"So desperate to be full, aren't you sweetheart?" He muttered, landing another smack against her skin. The harsh contact made her yelp and her body shook. He kneaded her flesh between his fingers, slicking the dildo up with her arousal before dipping it back into her ass again only twice. He pulled the toy out of her hole and watched it gape again as she looked over her shoulder at him and whined.

He flashed another sly smile to her and moved to lay down next to her on his back. She got on top of her husband, straddling his waist and pressing her hands down against his chest. She began to roll her hips against him, rubbing her sensitive clit against his shaft. His hands moved to her waist where his nails dug into her flesh, watching her hips move against his body. He bit at his lip and groaned, throwing his head back into the pillow and bucking his hips up against her. She giggled as she moved, watching his expression from above him.

"Does that feel good, baby?" She purred, circling her hips languidly against Shikamaru's. He looked up into her eyes and furrowed his brow with a scoff, grabbing a fistful of her hair and snapping her head to the side. She shut her eyes and let out a hiss at the stinging on her scalp. Her eyes opened to see his glaring daggers back at her.

"Don't you go thinking that you're in charge just because you're on top," he growled into the air. He tugged her hair again and she whimpered, shutting her eyes once more. "Now do what I told you to do."

One emerald eye met his intense mocha gaze. She nodded her head as much as the grip on her hair would allow her to. "Y-Yes sir." She submitted. His frown turned up into a smirk and he released his grip on her head, shifting his hand to rest on her waist instead.

He watched as she scooted back a little and took the bottle of lube off the bed. She flipped the cap open and squeezed the cold liquid down onto his aching cock, using her free hand to stroke his length and spread the lube down his shaft. She turned around so her back was facing him and wiggled her hips as she lined the head of his cock up with her ass. With a gasp, she lowered herself down onto his cock, burying him deep inside of her. She panted as she moved her hips up then sunk back down onto him. He snaked his hands up to her waist and sucked the air through his teeth, digging his fingers into her plush skin and watching as his girth disappeared inside her asshole. The tightness made his dick throb and he couldn't stop himself from letting out a pleasured groan.

She leaned forward, pressing her hands into the mattress to keep herself upright as she began to bounce her hips against his cock. She worked herself up into a steady rhythm as she adjusted for the stretch and it wasn't long before she was a mewling mess above him. He matched Yuuna's pace, fucking up into her ass and slapping his hips against hers with labored grunts.

"So fucking tight," he muttered, exhaling sharply through his nose. He watched his cock disappear deep inside her body and he licked his lips. She moved one hand from the mattress to her cunt, spreading her folds apart to caress her aching clit. She circled it with her fingers, dipping her digits inside her entrance and flicking her wrist. Her eyes crossed a little at the sensation, letting a soft whimper roll off her tongue. She glanced down next to her to see her favourite toy laying on the bed. Her pussy throbbed at the thought of having another cock inside her. She pulled her fingers from her hole and picked the dildo up, running it through her folds and coating it with her arousal before pushing it all the way into her sex with ease. She leaned forward, pressing her chest against the mattress and bouncing her hips against the two dicks inside of her.

Her eyelids fluttered half closed and her eyes crossed, her brow turning up as the pleasure grew inside her gut. She yelped in surprise as he landed another spank against her skin, then massaged the flesh between his fingers. He repeated the action a few times, bucking his hips upwards but for the most part letting her do the work. He landed one more slap against her skin before sitting up just enough to snake his arm around her waist and pull her down so her back was flush with his chest. He dug his heels into the mattress and thrusted up fast into her asshole, his cock twitching as her tightness wrapped around him. She met his pace with the dildo, ramming the toy fast and deep into her pussy. Her breath hitched in her throat as the pleasure began to build up inside of her. He watched over her shoulder as she fucked herself with the toy, biting down against her shoulder and slamming his hips up into hers. She let out another yelp and pressed her head back, staring up wide eyed at the ceiling of their bedroom. He repeated the action again, and again, hitting deep inside her with every roll of his hips. He grunted as he held his hips against her ass, panting to catch his breath and watch as she slid the dildo in and out of her wet hole.

"Fuck," she muttered, eyes slamming shut as she bucked her hips forward, both cocks dragging against her walls. Her breathing became labored as her hand moved faster. The head of the dildo punched her cervix with each thrust inside her and she could feel her legs trembling.

He watched over her shoulder again as she used the toy. "Gonna cum again?" He prodded, moving his hips against her once he had caught his breath. He began to move faster, not quite matching the pace of her hand but thrusting hard and deep inside of her ass. She nodded at his question, eyes glassed over with pleasure as tears threatened to fall down her cheeks. He wrapped his other arm tight around her waist and began to thrust up hard into her, matching the rhythm she had set for herself.

Her eyes widened and she cried shamelessly out into the air as the coil inside her gut finally snapped, sending her nerves into overdrive. Her holes clenched tightly around the cocks inside her, and a clear liquid gushed out from her cunt as she came. It splashed onto the bed sheets, soaking through to the mattress around their feet. His eyes narrowed hungrily, watching her hips convulse as she squirted.

"My wife is such a messy girl," He purred into her ear, slowing his hips to an easy, steady rhythm. "Cumming so hard she soaked through the sheets. And now the bed is all wet, what a drag."

She laid on top of him, chest heaving for air as her orgasm subsided. He ran his hands up and down her salty skin, kissing her neck from underneath her, gripping onto her tight. He grasped onto her waist and pushed her up and off of his stiff girth, scooting over to the side and laying her down next to him. He skated his hand down to the front of her body where he grabbed onto the suctioned end of the dildo and slowly pulled it from her clenching pussy, tossing it to the side and ghosting his fingers over her sensitive skin. His hand moved up from her pelvis to her stomach, then to her chest where he grabbed a handful of one of her tits to squeeze and massage, before letting it bounce and settle against her chest as his fingers moved up to her neck. He slipped his hand behind her head and pulled her into a fiery kiss, nodding his head along and licking into her mouth. Her tongue glided against his, a slew of moans dripping off of it as his hand moved back down her body again. He slipped it under her thigh and propped her leg up against his forearm, dipping his fingers into her sensitive core. She twitched at the stimulation but didn't push him away, instead bringing her hand up to touch his face and pull him in closer to her. They pulled away from each other to catch their breath, hot air fanning against the other's face as a string of saliva connected their tongues.

"How's about daddy knocks you up now, huh?" he grinned, looking down at her lips. He watched as she took her lower lip between her teeth and nodded just a little, then pressed his lips against hers once more. He let out a moan against her mouth as he moved his fingers inside of her, curling them upwards to rub against her walls. He pulled away and their eyes locked. "I wanna hear you say it."

"Please," she begged with a pant, reaching her hand down and curling her thin fingers around his cock to give it a few steady strokes. Her emerald eyes reflected in the mocha that stared back at her and she swallowed the desire that was in her throat. Her other hand came up to meet his face, brushing her fingertips against his cheek. “Cum inside me, I want you to make me pregnant.”

His breath hitched in his throat hearing the words come from her mouth and he involuntarily let a groan sound in his throat. Shikamaru surged forward to kiss her again, their tongues meeting with a desperate moan. She used one arm to support her weight on the bed and wrapped the other around the back of his neck, holding him close to her. He pulled his fingers out from her core and grabbed hold of his girth from her, lining the tip up with her entrance. He slowly pushed his hips forward, the head of his cock breaching her tight hole. He gave in to his desire and slammed his hips forward, a hungry growl escaping him as he buried himself deep inside of her. He pressed his forehead against hers as he rutted into her, her walls clenching around him and making him lose his composure. He pinched his brow and closed his eyes as he plunged deep inside of her cunt. He dug his fingers into the flesh of her thigh, holding her leg up to give him room to move. He set a frantic pace, rocking the bed as he dug his heels into the mattress, losing any and all control that he had. Every punch of his hips had his cock hitting her cervix. The pain was enough to make her cry out, but the pleasure she felt far outweighed the ache.

They were both a mess; panting through their noses and moaning against each other's lips, fingers digging into flesh, hips rolling together in sync. Yuuna's skin was on fire, overstimulated from the countless orgasms she'd already had, yet her gut still burned with longing. Her moans increased in volume and she had to pull away from his face to catch her breath as he plowed into her, eyes shutting tight and white knuckle grasping at the bed sheets. He moved his hand down from its spot against her thigh to run his middle and ring fingers in fast circles around her clit, determined to push her towards one final climax before he gave in to his own lust. She began to shake her head as she pulled away from his lips, gasping for air and eyes spilling tears.

"I-I can't, I c-can't…!" She hiccuped, vision blurring as she writhed around underneath him from the assault on her nerves. He pressed his lips to hers again, groaning into her mouth as he flicked his wrist at a pace that almost matched his hips.

"Yes you can," He challenged, his voice husky, a primal look in his eyes. "And you're going to."

Every touch of his body against hers felt like fire under her skin. It was almost too much to bear. He edged her closer and closer to that final burning climax, and when it hit her, she cried out his name and began to tremble as her back arched up off of the bed. She stared up at the ceiling with wide opened eyes as fresh tears cascaded down her cheeks, tongue hanging from her mouth, chest heaving desperately as she tried to catch her breath.

He skated his hand back up to her thigh where he grabbed onto her leg and squeezed it in his arms, slamming his hips hard against hers. He could feel the knot inside him unraveling and he closed his eyes tight, allowing the pleasure to finally take him over. His thrusts grew sloppy as he came inside of her with a guttural moan, rolling his hips against hers as he shot thick spurts of his hot cum deep inside her, fucking it into her womb.

"So good baby, you did so good," he huffed in exertion. He laid there next to her and allowed himself to ride out his high, giving his hips a few more shallow bucks until finally he came to a halt. He pressed his forehead to hers gently with his eyes closed. "You did so fucking good."

She laid next to him and whimpered as her body twitched, finally releasing the death grip she had on the bed sheets. Her legs trembled and shook as she stretched them out flat, Shikamaru pulling out of her as a result. Giving a little sniffle, she used the back of her hand to wipe the tears off her cheeks and she smiled at him.

"That was…"

"A little too intense?" He chuckled softly, kissing the tip of her nose as he caressed her burning skin. "Guess I got a little carried away. Sorry about that."

"No, it's fine!" She giggled dismissively at him. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't expecting it."

"Had to take advantage of the opportunity to fuck you silly without worrying about Shikaro, it'd be a drag if I had let it go to waste." He teased, wrapping his arms around Yuuna's waist and nuzzling his nose against her neck. She laughed out loud at his words, humming contently and wrapping her arms around the back of his neck.

"Do you think it worked?" She pondered. He scoffed and looked up at her without moving his head.

"With all that effort I put into it, it better have fucking worked." He complained, his voice muffled as he spoke against her skin. She chuckled and hummed, running her fingers through his long dark hair and gently scratching his scalp.

"Well, if it didn't, at least we got to have some much needed time together." She pointed out with a grin. He dragged his fingertips along her back, tracing the scar that resided in the middle of it. "And if it did, then we have another baby. So it's win-win."

He pulled his head away from her body just enough to stare down at her stomach. He shifted one of his hands from her back and smoothed it along her skin until it rested flat against her navel. With a grin, he looked up into her eyes and pressed his lips against hers in a sweet kiss. He pulled away after a quiet moment and a mischievous grin pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"We should get a babysitter more often."

573 notes · View notes

spicerackofblorbos · 3 months

Text

i'm GOD AWFUL at answering my asks unless they're requests, I'm sorry a;sldkfjas;df but to everyone who has sent me hearts, good vibes, and sunflowers, I appreciate and love you all so much!! <3 i'm finally getting around to this one!

i've been ordered by kat to do 5 more so here's my top 10 favorite fics I've written!! These are ALL x reader!

And here's my answer to tay's ask about my fics!

❥ fic I loved writing the most

this will always be dependent on when you ask me, because right now it will have to be Amethyst. If y'all haven't noticed, my newest love is Leon Kennedy, and writing for him is so much easier than writing for Levi and I think it's because I understand Leon's personality more. He's just so fun to riff off of. Not that Levi wasn't!! He was just harder to put down for me, I guess. ANWAYS. I loved writing for Leon and I'm working on a part two!!

❥ fic others loved that I didn't care for

okay so this might come as a surprise because it's my ultimate comfort fic, but it would have to be Sunrise. tbh, I don't know what loved the most means here but I'll equate it to notes. Sunrise is precious to me because it holds so many of my favorite things. BUT I really feel like I could have done so much better. The plot is there, the scenario and surroundings are perfect. but the WRITING?? I could have done better. don't get me wrong though, I still love it and I am very happy so many people liked it!!

❥ fic I had fun writing

definitely my For You, I Would fic. I don't have very many Armin fics but I enjoyed writing for him a lot because he's just such a shy little bean and so full of wonder and love. I could really see myself wanting to take him out on a date. This was also a request for my friend Tay and it was fun catering her interests within the story and how it works well with Armin!!

❥ fic I'm most proud of

for sure it would have to be Unspoken Words. I'm proud because it was the first time I've written something for myself in a long time. I didn't think I would care as much about fanfic until I fell in love with AoT, now look at me LMAO. UW helped me become a better writer as well as be more confident in areas I thought I lacked. I quite literally used it as a way to be better, and I'll always be proud of it. My first ever full and finished fic, I'll never forget it <3

❥ fic I wish got more recognition

probably Can I Go Where You Go? mainly because I really liked writing the semi plot twist at the end. like if you were caught up with season 4 of AoT, you would know what I was alluding to and it's like a kick in the gut LMAO. but also I thought I did pretty well with the descriptors, not to brag ofc. :3

❥ my happiest/saddest/most comedic fic

I SPENT 30 MINUTES LOOKING FOR THIS. but the saddest will have to be this short drabble about Levi losing you in an expedition and him coming to your old room, reminiscing. I don't know what brought it on but I was like, huh. let's just be SAD.

if you're interested, my fic masterlist can be found here!

finally, thank you so much for the asks @kingkonoha, @youre-ackermine, and @humanitys-strongest-bamf!! I love y'all a lot <3

56 notes · View notes

raelle-writing · 3 months

Text

I love how many people on here are always talking about who is and isn't doomed by the narrative in DFF like -

Are you sure? Because I've analyzed the hell out of this show and I cannot tell who is and isn't doomed by the narrative at this point. The story is too complex and nuanced and there's so many pieces of it moving at any given time.

Are Phee and Jin doomed by the narrative for betraying Non? I doubt it, because Non isn't the smiling little ingenue that people think he is. He's a character who has also made mistakes and fucked up, so idk if putting him as the tragic hero at the center of this tale makes sense. Like, of course he is the true victim of the show, but he's also way more complex than a tragic little kid. I know that people want Non to be that, and Phee and Jin to die because of it, but is it true? I don't think so.

Is Tee doomed by the narrative? You'd think so, and yet I feel like I've been seeing him move toward a redemption arc in recent episodes. I honestly can't tell if he'll live or die. He's not an irredeemable asshole because he loves White, and loves him so deeply that he'd rather die himself than bad things happen to White.

I don't think that anyone in DFF is obviously doomed by the narrative. They're all too complex and sympathetic for anything that simple and clear-cut.

That's not to say I'm positive Phee, Jin, Tee, or any of the others will live. It's impossible for me to say at this point because the show hasn't had a single high stakes death so far. I cannot tell how cut-throat the writers will be toward the end of it because we haven't lost anyone that actually hurt yet.

So far the deaths are:

The spoiled bratty rich kid (and we only found out that he was a more complexly sympathetic character AFTER he died)

The driver uncle who had 5 minutes of screen time total

The evil uncle who we all wanted to die anyway (and who was killed off-screen so far)

The narcissistic bully who has no backstory

They've killed four people and none of them hurt. The only reason Por's death hurt was because we got a moment of the characters mourning afterwards. We didn't get that with Top, and tbh I don't think I'd even care if we did because he's so flat. All of the characters who have actual nuance to them aren't dead yet.

I feel like DFF kind of sacrificed being a horror for the sake of being a mystery. It would've made for a better horror (in my opinion) to confirm Non is already dead in episode 8 and then work back toward a bloodbath. But instead of that, they've kept us in suspense for three more episodes without confirming if he's alive or dead.

I don't particularly mind that because I love a mystery, I just think that they'll have a hard time course-correcting back to a bloody slasher in the last two episodes after so much time spent in the past and on this mystery element.

I hope the show sticks the landing and doesn't throw away all of the interesting and complex writing and nuances built into it for the sake of a shocking ending, that would truly ruin it.

#dead friend forever #dff #dff the series #dff meta #dff analysis #dff spoilers

56 notes · View notes

l3m0ncyan · 1 year

Text

If only

Marc Spector x Platonic! Reader, Steven Grant x Platonic! Reader, Jake Lockley x Platonic!Reader

Reader is gender neutral

Summary: After a huge argument between you and Marc, you two go without speaking for weeks. Until one day, the Moon system is missing and you go out looking for them to bring them back and apologize.

Note: Inspired by The Last of Us >:) also its more Marc x teen!reader tbh

Word count: 8,357 (gaahd daaamn)

Warning: ANGST, death, graphic, mentions of suicide

—————————————————————

Standing above your city, you looked down at the passing small cars and pedestrians. Each of them had their own story, and you wondered how they were doing. If they were going through what you were going through.

Each thought brought you closer to the edge of the abyss than you were already. The wind tried to blow you back as if to save you from your actions.

However, why should you be saved? Your parents were killed by a villain, and you spent your entire life trying to make them happy. But they had vanished, as had your motivation. You had no one else to love you the way they did.

You missed them so dearly that all you wanted to do was go and see them.

After reaching an acceptance, you lifted your foot off the cement, ready to free fall into peace.

“Are you alright?” You heard a man's voice come from behind you.

You turn around to see the same man dressed entirely in white. He was wrapped in cloth and wore what appeared to be body armor on parts of his body. A golden crest adorned the center of his chest. In addition to his costume, his mask featured two white glowing orbs.

“If I was, I wouldn’t be thinking about jumping off,” you say. He nods, admitting his obvious question.

Without much thought, you look back to the edge and lift your foot up once again.

He extends his hand immediately as a deterrent to you continuing. "Wait, I know you might feel like there's nothing else to live for; believe me, I've felt that way before. But how will you know that the finish line was a better end if you just stop here?"

You keep quiet and just observe him. The wind howls, as if to say, take his hand and listen to what this man has to say. It wasn't what he said that made you reconsider, but rather how he attempted to save you. Why you?

You step off the ledge and take a step toward him. You can see him almost breathe out in relief.

His mask vanishes, and you are startled before seeing a man with dark brown curly hair and tanned skin. He appears firm, but his eyes convey kindness.

You reach out to him and take his hand in yours.

—-----

It was the middle of winter and spring four years later. The cold and plush feel of the sheets was incredible. The blanket on top of them kept you close and let you know you were safe.

However, a masculine voice broke all that peace. A well-known one at that.

“Hey, wake up”

The sound of metal rubbing against metal indicated that the curtains were being pulled apart, signaling the end of your comfort. You drew the blanket up to shield your face from the sun's rays.

It was immediately pulled down, and your body balled into a fetal position as the winter cold engulfed you. As you slowly opened your eyes, you noticed Marc holding your blanket away from you. As the drowsiness faded, you reached out an arm to reclaim it, but he yanked it away.

"I know the bed is comfortable, but it's time to go, kid." Marc draped the blanket over the bedframe. He then exited the small room and entered the main part of the apartment.

You sat up slowly, your bones cracking as you did so. You looked out the window, blinking away the sleepiness, to see the day was sunny but cold.

Groaning, you stood up and walked out of your room. You slowly shuffled towards Gus’s tank, grabbing the small plastic can of fish food.

“Already fed them,” a chipper voice was heard.

Looking through the fish tank to the kitchen, you noticed Steven preparing something on the stove. Giving a quick hum, you placed the food back on top of the tank.

“Morning to you, Gus," you said as you lightly tapped the glass of the tank.

You walked to the kitchen to catch a scent of what Steven was cooking.

"Good morning, you three." You sat at the table, awaiting breakfast.

Steven approached you, carrying a plate of vegan sausage and eggs with toast. "Eat up, you and Marc are-”

"Are we going to patrol again? But it's light out and people are walking around," you said as you picked up a piece of vegan meat from the plate with a fork.

"The guys who were trying to catch only happen to come out during the day. So you'll be bait," Marc clarified as he sat down and started eating from his plate.

“Like always,” You grumbled

You guys continued to eat your breakfast before getting ready to start your days.

—

You tried looking for the location that Marc mentioned earlier for today's small mission while walking side by side through the streets of London. Even though it was later, the cold was still with you two, so you wore two layers of clothing.

Shivering, you pulled the collar of your hoodie up to your chin to get warmth. “So who is it we’re trying to stop?”

"A group has been kidnapping people for human trafficking," Marc says before motioning to a table with two seats in front of a cafe.

You two sat at the table, puzzled as to why you were there.

"That's bad. And a coffee break?" As you leaned back in your chair, you said

Marc shakes his head and motions to a building under construction. It was surrounded by a green fence and a large tarp sign with the name of the construction company.

"That's where they're meeting; for now, we'll just wait for them to turn up." Marc reclines in his metal chair.

A waitress approaches and starts asking about your orders. Marc takes the lead as he examines the menu. Meanwhile, you're too preoccupied with looking behind Marc.

Behind him was a table filled with students your age. Each of them had a drink in front of them, and one of them appeared to make a joke based on the way everyone began to laugh.

You couldn't help but be envious of the scene. You were young but mature enough to attend college. However, you were unable to attend one due to a number of factors. As a result, you found it difficult to make friends or socialize with people your own age. Instead, you were with Marc, fighting bad guys.

A voice sounding muffled slowly became clear and snapped you back into reality, “Y/N”

Blinking in realization, you saw Marc and the waitress staring at you, waiting.

"What do you want, kid?" Marc inquired, sounding less annoyed and more patient.

"Oh, I'll just get some matcha tea." You looked up at the waitress for confirmation, and she nodded and walked away.

You two sat in silence, your gaze fixed on the group. Marc noticed as well after following your eyes.

“Anything on your mind?” He turned back to you.

You slightly jumped at how Marc was able to notice you in deep thought, “Nothing really…..actually there is something I’ve been meaning to ask you”

Marc raised a brow and asked, “What is it?”

You shrank, not expecting to be able to speak, and said, "Uh, so I was wondering if I could go back to school..."

Marc stared at you and said, “College?”

You nodded, and the waitress returned with your drinks before you could explain further. You two exchanged an awkward smile before she asked if that was all. She returned to the cafe with just a nod from you two.

“How long have you been thinking about it?” Marc questions that once you two are alone again,

"For a while now," you cross your arms and lean back, your gaze fixed on the road and passing cars.the street and passing cars. "I was thinking I could fit it in on days when you don't need me and I'm stuck at home all day."

You say the last part with annoyance, which Marc notices.

Marc sighs, “Y/N…”

"I know you say that being out in public makes it easy for bad people to find me, but I guarantee you that I can handle myself." You put your elbows on the table to get closer to Marc so he can listen better.

“Y/N”

“I won’t get too many classes!”

“Y/N”

"I'll even stay late to patrol with you guys, and-"

“No!” Marc raises his voice.

You don't mind that a few people in the cafe are now staring at you two. You look down at your untouched cup of matcha, angry rather than sad. Marc sighs, running his hand through his hair.

"We can't risk problems like that; college might make things worse, and you won't be able to handle it on your own if something goes wrong," Marc declares.

You remain silent and stare down at your cup. Marc looks at you, his lips pursed in guilt. He tries to think of ways to break the tension, but nothing comes to mind.

A few cars speed up but then slow down to turn around in front of the previous building. Two men enter and take a look around before closing the gate to the entrance.

"Are you ready to go?" Marc casts a glance your way, but you avoid his sights.

"Please, just—... We'll finish this job and then talk about college, okay?" Marc nearly begged.

Looking back up, you made eye contact, thinking about it before nodding, “Okay”

—

After going over the plan again, you were sent to speak to the group. A few men stood guard by the gate, watching you as you approached. "Hey, I believe I was told to come here?" You looked around and pointed to your phone.

"Another way she's getting people in?" one of the men asks the other.

"She?" You thought to yourself, "This is the first time I hear a girl is leading shit."

“Yeah, follow us” the man finally says and the gate opens, letting you two in.

You look behind you to see if Marc is nearby, but he isn't. You already know he's hiding and trust that he'll be there every step of the way, but being alone for this part is terrifying.

They lead you to the first floor of the unfinished structure. Because it isn't built, the walls aren't there, allowing the wind to blow inside. It is detrimental to your body's temperature.

Looking around, there are a few wooden tables with guns on top of them. It was clear that the group didn't care that it was out in the open.

When they notice you looking at the weapons, they zip tie your hands together without a warning. You struggle to pull your hands apart. The friction you create against the plastic causes your wrist to burn.

“What the fuck?! Get these off!” You give your best acting.

"Shut up, you guys always yell too loud and it's making me deaf," grunts the man. "Let her know that we have another one."

A man nods and walks away. The man walks towards you, pulling a chair to himself and sitting on it backwards.

“Well get comfortable, because it’ll be the-“

"Will this be the last time?" You scoff, shaking your head. You didn't care if it messed up the plan; you were still irritated with Marc.

"You guys just don't know how to make conversation." you moan

"Looks like you're not scared anymore," the man says with a small laugh. "Can you tell me your name, kid?"

"Ew, don't call me a kid, and why does it matter what my name is? You're just going to change it, or however human trafficking works."

This time, the man laugh loudly, "Human trafficking?! That has nothing to do with what we plan to do."

A group walks in on cue, and a woman holds a long object wrapped in cloth. “We found it! Call Vanessa!”

You take a look around and notice how pleased everyone is with the info they have got. You're curious on what everyone is so excited about. Another woman walks in, her ginger hair tied in a tight ponytail. She's dressed in a dark green tank top, cargo pants, and combat boots. The thing is, she's your age.

At this point, it is obvious who is the leader of the whole situation and who they call Vanessa.

She walks by and glances at you and asks, “How many do we have now?”

“About 14, you think that’s enough?” The man from before stands up from the chair.

“We’ll see” Vanessa grabs the object and begins to unwrap it.

You concentrate on the mystery item because some of the colors show through each time the cloth is unwrapped. Your eyes then widen with each repetition.

Unwrapped, Vanessa holds up a cane. A cane with a crocodile head on top.

You recall Steven telling you about a fight he and Marc had with a man named Harrow. With the assistance of a goddess named Ammit, he used a cane similar to the one now in use to murder people.

Marc assured you that it had been destroyed and that you were safe, but are you still safe?

The way the two explained the power it possessed scared you. Jake, on the other hand, terrified you with his explanation of the world's future if it returned.

“Bring them to me, we’ll test it out” Vanessa says as she grips the cane.

You blink and realize what is about to happen. Two men lift you up and drag you towards Vanessa.

“Get off!” You try to get away from their grip but they tighten their hold. You search up and around the place, hoping Marc or Steven is there.

Vanessa brings the top of the cane towards your face. You move your head back to escape, but Vanessa keeps drawing it closer.

Marc nor Steven nor Jake were seen. Since they were taking long, you acted on your own.

You use your right hand to pull out the pocket knife you're carrying. You take out the blade and force it through the loop of the zip tie on the plastic. With your hands free, you flip the knife around and aim it at one of the guys' thigh. You slam it into their femur, eliciting a scream from the man.

Both men lose their grip and you stand up, swinging the knife at the other man’s throat. As they back away, more come.

Vanessa glares at you before she tries to use the cane. It starts to glow and you back up into a corner. Theres nowhere to go as the rest of the group surrounds you.

Before Vanessa could send you flying, Marc comes in and side-kicks her down. The cane clatters to the floor and skids across the room.

She lifts herself up and looks at Marc with hatred, "Its you"

Looking at Marc in his suit, he swings left and right at the men. A few members of the group appear from behind you while he is busy. You duck the punches with your knife in hand and target specific areas of their body with the blade.

With the last one dropping to the floor, you catch your breath and look over to see Marc still fighting. To your right is a woman shooting at him but of course not working. Still, it is throwing Marc off course as he fights.

You rush up to her, wrapping your arm around her neck and stabbing her in the stomach. As her body falls limp, she drops the gun to the floor.

Marc notices and finishes off the last man before walking to you.

“Let’s go” He says harshly

“They have the cane, we could get it back” You gesture to where the cane is.

“Let’s go!”

You both go quiet as you hear a loud buzzing sound. As if something is powering up. Turning around, you see Vanessa pointing the cane towards you two, a purple light glowing brighter and brighter.

Not hesitating, Marc picks you up before running out of the building and flies off the ground. A blast passes you two just missing by a bit.

Vanessa glares at you two as you make a break for it.

“Get more ready” she commands the last of her team standing, “He’s going to come back for this”

She holds the cane tightly in her hand, the metal crocodile shining from its polished material.

——

Marc set you down at the apartment after you kicked and squirmed in his grasp. His suit vanished, and he began to walk away from you, hands on his hips, looking down.

"I told you to stick to the plan," he said, his voice deep within his throat. You can almost feel the lingering anger from it.

"I did, but as you saw back there, I was almost killed!" you scrunch up your face as you set your sweater down and sit on the couch. "And I did just fine on my own," you crossed your arms and turned your gaze away from him.

"Really?" he scoffs, "Because it looked like you were being cornered back there, with what? A knife?" He mocked

You try to get a word in but right now Marc is blowing up, “You straight up ignored what I asked of you and almost got yourself killed!”

“But I didn’t,” you say firmly, looking straight into his eyes.

Marc bites his cheek and shakes his head, “You can forget about college”

“What?!” You stand up from the couch.

"You heard me, if I can't trust you to follow a simple plan, how can I trust you to go somewhere as simple as class?"

"Oh, so just because I decided to stand up for myself, you don’t trust me anymore?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, and you both glared at each other. Steven could feel the tension rising and knew things were about to get out of hand. He made the decision to take control of the body right away.

Marc’s composure became timid and soft, and you knew why. Looking up at Steven, he gave a small, one sided smile.

“How about we cool off shall we?” He patted you on the shoulder and began to walk to the kitchen, “Ill make us lunch alright? How does that sound?”

He turned to you with a grin but you stared down to the floor and mumbled, “Im not hungry”

From there, you marched up to your room and shut the door.

“You two could have just talked it through,” Steven sighed.

Jake hummed in response, while Marc stayed quiet.

“You guys might not be related but you sure act like father and daughter”

You sat on your bed, your gaze fixed on the wall across from you. There were a few posters and wall decorations, such as shelves with figurines, but directly across from you was a picture of you and Marc at a lake. Jake was cooking kebabs on the grill in the picture next to it. Another picture of you with Steven and Layla.

Just one mistake, and now you've lost the chance to get a normal sense of life. Lost the ability to make friends. Lost the ability to experience so many things all together.

As your thoughts ate you up, you felt a burst of wind. Soon after Khonshu was sitting at your desk that was in the corner of your room. He held his staff and looked at you, waiting for you to acknowledge his presence.

“Why are you here?” You said annoyed.

“I came to see if you might have been climbing through the window again.” He set the staff down, making it lean on the wall.

“You know about me sneaking out?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, I haven’t told your three fathers out there.” He slightly chuckled.

Your face scrunched up, “Don’t say that, you’ll probably jinx it”

After that, there was silence, and Khonshu exhaled, "They're just trying to protect you, especially Marc." They all do care about you”

“If they did care about me, they wouldn’t keep me locked up here,” you say, looking over to the window, seeing how it's still sunny out there.

Khonshu hesitates before continuing “...I know I shouldn’t say this but the reason why he has been keeping you safe is because he sees his younger brother in you”

“He has a brother?”

“Had” he clarifies.

"Marc blames himself for his death and never forgave himself, despite the fact that he was only a child," Khonshu continues. "Perhaps that's why he wants to protect you and heal that wound."

You wrapped your head around what he said and only got angrier, “...So the real reason he kept me around was to use me as some kind of therapy?”

Khonshu paused, “That isnt’t what I said”

“Well thats what it sounds like” you laugh and run your hands through your hair. You stand up from your bed and grab your other hoodie from your dresser and walk to the window.

“Where are you going?” Khonshu stands up, grabbing his staff in the process.

“Just– leave me alone” After you open the window and climb out onto the fire escape.

You descend the escape and walk to the place where you go to be alone. It’s a 20 minute walk from the flat but it’s worth it. It is an abandoned building with a stable flight of stairs leading to an open area with views of London. You walk over to the edge and sit, allowing your legs to dangle. Normally, you do this at night, but because the sun is shining, all you can do is stare at the sky and think.

As night falls, you can hear heavy footsteps ascending. When you turn your head, you see Marc in his white suit. His mask falls away, and you can see a sense of relief wash over him. His chest heaves as if he's just flown all over town looking for you. That he did.

You begin to stand up and he rushes towards you. He examines your face to see if your fine and then brings you into a hug.

“What the hell, you don’t just run off like that without telling me or sending me a text” he breathes out.

It would have been nice, but remembering what Khonshu said makes the embrace seem insincere. He was hugging his brother instead of you. You push him away, and he is taken aback but maintains his distance.

“Im tired, and I just want an explanation…” you finally say

Marc nods and asks, “Is it about college? Is that why you left?”

"Part of it” You breathe out, "But that’s not what I wanted to talk about”

“Then what is it?”

You take a moment to find the words but they aren’t hard to find. This makes Marc nervous though.

“Why did you save me?”

It went quiet, Marc looked at you confused, “What?”

“Back when we met, I was going to jump off that building, but you came and talked me out of it.” You hold your ground as you stare at him.

Marc stays quiet and you take that chance to continue talking, “I was supposed to die that day, I already had no plans for my life so I was ready. Instead, you came and saved me, why?”

“…I couldn’t just let you throw your life like that“

You scoffed, “Then tell me it was for me and not your brother”

Marc’s eyes widened and his jaw clenched, “Khonshu told you about my brother?”

You nodded, “So that’s why you saved me? To get closure or something?”

“No, Y/N I-“

“Then what?! Why was I so different that you had to save me?!” you said impatiently.

This time, you shoved him back. He stumbled but stayed on his feet.

“I’m now stuck here dealing with the bad part of the world again! I can’t even make friends because you think I’ll get hurt! And I have to live with hiding from everyone and everything, because of you!”

You try to shove him again, but Marc grabs your hands and pulls them away from you. He was hurt, but discovering the cane was back and failing to stop it was drowning it out. He didn't mean to say what he was about to say.

"Well, I couldn't just let you jump off and end up being a flat piece of meat! What?! Did you want to be another name on the list of people who couldn't deal with life anymore?!"

Taken aback, you step back. Marc notices what he said and closes his eyes in regret, “Kid, I didn’t mean to say that”

“…I should have jumped off faster,” you finally say, “I wish we had never fucking met”

Marc's lips part slightly and only stares at you. He forgets about earlier today and is only focused on you. How there are tears falling from your eyes when they only come out when you two are watching a sad movie. How you are angry when that only happens when you lose at Mario Kart. All these innocent reasons were out of the picture because he had said something he shouldn’t have.

“Y/N..” he reaches out to you but you slap his hand away.

"Don't fucking touch me," your words sting and tense Marc.

You walk past him and walk down the stairs, wiping all the tears with the sleeve of your sweater. Meanwhile Marc stays frozen in the same spot.

It’s been two weeks since your argument with Marc. Steven and Jake have taken turns in taking care of you since Marc decided to go AWOL.

He didn't do it because he wanted to; he did it because he knew you despised him. Despised him for never telling you the whole truth about your saving. But most importantly, for insulting your feelings.

The real reason you were angry with him wasn’t that he saved you. It was because he didn’t save you for you.

You were actually angry with him the first week. You didn't want to deal with him. You purposefully ignored him for the first week, only calling out to the other alters. When this happened, Steven and Jake felt terrible and looked at Marc, who only hid.

However, by the second week, all of that rage had vanished. You were no longer angry with him; instead, you missed him. You wanted to apologize, but you assumed he despised you because of the harsh words you used.

It was now raining and cold. It was like Mother Nature knew you were feeling gloomy and wanted to make it worse. You climbed out of bed and looked outside to the storm that was passing through. You frowned and turned to the door of your room.

You peeked to what was the rest of the apartment. It was quiet with only the bubbles from the fish tank bubbling and the rain hitting the roof. The boys weren’t here which left only you in the flat. You walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge to see if there was anything to eat.

Failing to do so, you shut the fridge door and turned to see a yellow lined sheet of paper on the dining table.

Taking a closer look, it looked like Marc’s handwriting.

Knowing it was from him reminded you again of how much you missed him and his company. You were regretting ever trying to argue with him. If you hadn’t, he would have shared breakfast time with you like every other morning.

Hey, we went to find the cane. Well, be right back. Steven made some vegan stuff and left it on the stove. Please eat.

Even though it was just writing, you can tell Marc was hesitant in starting the note and felt like he was on thin ice. He was probably convinced by the other two to write.

It is delicious! I recommend heating on the stove instead of microwaving. Eat! You need strength! Also, we have news for you when we come back :)

You smiled at how Steven was so cheerful. You were honestly excited about what they had to say. Hopefully it meant you and Marc can stop going through silent treatment.

Cuídate mija, don’t open the door for anyone. My card is on the bed if you don’t want to eat Steven's cooking ;)

You almost laughed knowing it was Jake, he always loved bullying the other two. Getting to the last part, you notice how it switched to Marc’s handwriting again.

We’ll be back soon.

Love From,

Marc, Steven, and Jake

You stared at how the word "love" was crossed out and wondered if Marc was the one who thought of it or if the others did. Either way, it moved you and you felt even worse about yelling at Marc.

You fold the note and put in the pocket of your sweatpants. Going to the fridge, you grab the pot of pasta and walk over to the stove. You heat it over the flame and wait for it boil.

In the meantime, you return to your room. You stoop to the level of your bed and place your hand beneath it. You move your hand around mindlessly until it comes into contact with a small box.

Pulling it out, you open it two see two blunts with a lighter inside. Once you take out both the lighter and a blunt, you make your way to the nearest window.

Taking a look at the lighter, you examine the almost peeling moon sticker on it. It was from a sheet that you saw at the market when you went with Marc for groceries a while back

You slipped it into the basket before he noticed it in the line. All he did was simply look at it and give a small chuckle, glancing at you before putting it with the rest of the items.

You smiled as you inserted the blunt between your teeth and lit the end with your lighter. You inhaled deeply and exhaled the smoke out the window and into the world. Notifying everyone who passes by that you are high at the moment.

The soothing patter of the rain put you in a pondering state. Wondering if you can handle another two months of not speaking to Marc again.

Actually you couldn’t, and you didn’t want to.

You didn’t want to give him the silent treatment anymore and you wanted to apologize. Apologize for not having a civil conversation which turned to a yelling battle.

You thought of the choice of words for Marc and how to repay him for the damage that was done.

Letting out another breath of smoke, you came to a closing.

“Hope you aren’t angry with me” you sigh and put out the blunt.

—————

A Few Hours Earlier

—————

In his Moon Knight suit, Marc was jumping from building to building trying to find the new hiding spot of the group. The storm made it almost difficult to see any suspicious buildings in sight. However, they weren’t even in his mind right now.

“Mate, I think it’s time to talk about Y/N”

“Yes, I think you two should talk when we come back”

“I know,” Marc continued staring straight ahead, “I just don’t know how to apologize. They probably hate me”

“They don’t hate you, they idolize you”

“They do?”

“Of course, that move they did back at the hideout was yours. They have been watching you anytime you go and fight”

Marc maintains his silence but can't help but smile. This time it hits him how much he misses you as well. He misses being able to tell you about his day. Your movie nights and Nintendo tournaments. For you, he’ll do anything to make it up to you.

“…I’ll talk to them when we’re done with this,” he says.

Steven and Jake smile, “Then let’s get this done quickly”

Marc continues running on top of the roofs until he stops and sees a building with purple flowing out of the windows.

“That’s them”

Marc stands on the edge of a nearby building and examines each room, trying to find where the so called Vannessa is at.

“There”

Marc looks over to one window and sees Vanessa talking to some group members. In another window he can see the cane on a table unprotected.

Marc gets off the building and jumps into one of the windows closest to the cane. With the breaking of glass, everyone in the building is now alerted but Marc can take them.

That is until he feels his power begin to leak out of his body. Confused he looks to his hands and sees how his suit is starting to disappear to where soon he is just in his casual clothes. Looking around, he sees the group corner him with guns drawn. He doesn’t move a muscle and only raises his hands up to show surrender. Soon Vanessa makes her way in and stares at Marc.

"I don't have a good feeling about this"

“Took you long enough. Got lost?” She said snarkily, “Oh wait, I forgot you're an ex-marine right?”

She then looks over to one of the men and gestures her head to Marc, “In the leg”

Before Marc can understand, a shotgun is loaded, soon aimed, and a bullet is fired at his thigh. Marc lets out a scream of pain and drops to his knees, holding the wound. Two men rush in and hold him against the wall.

"Marc!"

"Let me take control!"

Marc tries to get out of their grip, but with the pain in his leg throbbing, he feels his senses leaving.

Vanessa makes her way to him and crouches down to his level, looking into his eyes.

“To cut it quick, remember how that red witch controlled that small town? Well it turns out she had a barrier going on, so I said why not I do it too. Point A you crossed and point B you are now powerless and,”

Vanessa takes out a blade and lodges it into Marc’s other thigh, which causes him to groan in pain, but he continues to look at her.

“Mortal. Oh, and I know about your weird alter, Jack? Jake? I don’t fucking know, but I know he’s a pain in the ass but with no mobility, he’s nothing”

"Hija del reputa madre"

Marc glares at her and stays quiet.

“Aren’t you wondering why I’m being a bitch to you?”

“Well when you see a bitch you’ll expect them to be a bitch” Marc remarks which causes Vanessa to land a punch on his face.

“Funny. You’re not going to be laughing soon. Do you know who I am?”

Marc huffs and just shrugs, “Why don’t you just tell me and get this over with”

Vanessa lands him another punch and this time Marc is now bleeding from his nose.

“Switzerland. You were there looking for the scarab, and my father,” Vanessa stabs Marc once again in the thigh, “was there and you killed him. For what? For trying to make the world a better place?”

Marc doesn’t say anything but just glares at her. Vanessa scoffs and gets up, walking to another table.

“Tourniquet his legs” is all she says before grabbing a bat. A woman does what she says and ties a rope above Marc’s wound.

Everyone watches Vanessa’s moves, awaiting for next command. She turns to him and winds her elbow back before landing a blow to Marc's head.

——

The rain was still going, which is what lulled you into sleep. You were laying on the couch with an arm covering half your face. The blunt might have also been part of the equation in your slumber.

The coffee table was a mess before but now an even bigger mess with the bowl of food that Steven made being on there with the fork inside. Next to it was your ashtray which had what was left of your blunt.

You felt at peace before you heard urgent knocking at the door. Slowly opening your eyes, you sit up and hear your bones crack from being asleep.

Walking over to the door, you check the peephole and see Layla still knocking.

You open the door, and Layla looks at you a tad disappointed, "Hey, what’s up?”

“Can I come in? It’s urgent” She points to the inside of the apartment which you nod and let her in.

“Jesus, was that you?” Layla coughs and waves her hand to get the smoke that fills the room away.

“Uh, maybe. Anyway, what happened? You’re never this freaked out”

Layla bites her cheek, “Have you heard from Marc? Steven? Jake? Any of them?”

You blink, “Not as of lately, all I got was a note from them saying they were going to find the cane”

“Yeah, the last text I got was him saying he found the hideout, but I haven’t gotten a response.” Layla pulls out her phone.

She shows you the last message from him, which was about 5 hours ago. Usually Marc would need less than that to complete a job.

“Maybe things got heavy, they’re probably on their way now.” You try to reason, but in reality, you begin to worry.

“If they were, I would be able to see their location but it’s off. I have a bad feeling something might have happened” Layla's face is tense and she doesn't appear to be able to relax.

Usually Layla was the one who was the calmest amongst the trio. So whatever it was that happened must be bad.

“What do we do?” You cross your arms.

Layla fidgets with her wedding ring as she looks down, “I-I don’t know”

All you do is stare at Layla and try to think. The boys were always the brains in this sort of thing, all you did was follow. What would they do?

You can probably retrace your steps, but again, you have been missing out on all the meetings ever since you claimed your hatred for the side missions.

A blast of wind comes and blows away all the pages that were on the coffee table. You and Layla turn to the noise and see Khonshu. However, he looks rough and stressed. Having both of the ofthe group who always calm now stressed was odd and almost a bad omen. He doesn’t waste any time before he starts.

“They’re in trouble, the group created a barrier which caused me to unlatch from them”

“What?” You say with disbelief.

“There’s no time! They are in grave danger and need help!”He bangs his staff on the ground to get the message across.

You feel your heart begin to beat rapidly. You’re almost frozen by the news that they're in danger. They have saved you countless of times so it would make sense to repay the debt.

“Take me,” you say and Layla looks at you shocked.

She grabs onto your shoulders, “Y/N, no. We have to go together, we don’t know what they are capable of”

“I can handle it on my own,” you say before removing her hands and holding them, “I’ll be fine, I’ll send you the address and you can meet us there”

You begin to walk to Khonshu which he does not hesitate to give you your own powers temporarily. You are quickly enveloped in a similar suit of the Moon Knight’s. If it was a normal situation, you would have gloated but today was different.

“Wait Y/N!” Layla calls out but you are gone. She looks around to think before she calls for an old friend.

——

All you can do is keep running, jumping from building to building. Nothing else is on your mind but the three men who have been by your side for the past few years.

“It’s right there!” Khonshu called out.

You looked down and see a building with a purple glow coming from inside the windows before it leaves. That must have been the barrier that was made to stop Marc and the others from having Khonshu by their side.

Khonshu immediately takes you to the building's entrance. It doesn’t take you long before you burst through the doors. The suit disappearing at the same time. You don’t let Khonshu explain to you how many there are or what they are capable of doing. All you want is to see Marc again and apologize for everything you've said. How you are glad that you met him.

You look around the first floor quickly to find signs of one of the boys being there but they aren’t. Rushing up the flight of stairs you find an open space with a few tables of a few weapons. You walk to one and grab a pistol. You check for bullets which thankfully it has a few.

You never learned to handle one before which leads you to grabbing a knife from there too. Once you look over your weapons, you hear a large thud coming from upstairs and grunting.

“Marc” You breath out and sprint up the stairs.

All that adrenaline begins to spread through your body. That is until you get to the top of the stairs.

The scene is horrifying. Your eyes widen and you feel the world go quiet, only your heartbeat can be heard banging through your ears. At first you thought it was your pulse going crazy.

Thud

It was just your pulse.

Thud

It was your pulse, thats what you kept telling yourself.

Thud

Marc received another blow to the head. He was helpless. He could only lie on his stomach and let blood drain from his nose and mouth. His left eye was purple and swollen. Red had now stained his dark brown curls.

All of this pain inflicting on him was coming from the red haired woman. Vanessa.

You're enraged, and you swear you see red. You point the gun at her, ready to fire, when one of the members notices you and tries to take the gun from you. You two fall to the ground while attempting, causing the gun to skid across the floor. You pull out your knife before he can get up. You swing it at the man horizontally. Making a cut at his neck.

Unfortunately, it is not deep enough.

When the other two members notice your presence, they tackle you. You try to push them off with all your strength, but they pin your arms behind your back. Their weight crushes you, causing your cheek to collide with the cold floor.

“Get the fuck off me!” You yell out.

The man who you cut wipes the blood off and glares at you. He immediately rushes to you and begins to kick you in your stomach, calling you a ‘bitch’. Before he can do more damage, another member holds him back.

“Hey! Hey! Thats enough!” Says the man as he tries to keep his friend from beating you.

You don’t care about the man though. All your attention is on the redhead. You have never felt so much anger as you do right now.

“You’re going to fucking die!” You growl.

She looks at you and cocks her head to the side, “It’s you from before”

You continue to glare at her before two other people come in. One man and one woman, they look at the scene before continuing on with Vanessa.

“Who’s that?” The man points at you.

The woman then adds, “How are they here? Why weren’t you on watch?”

The one with the cut on his neck yells, “I didn’t know he’d bring someone else!”

“Well thats enough, it won’t take long until people report a noise complaint” the man looks at Vannessa.

“You want what I want, right?” She grips the base of the bat as she stares at the man.

The man stays quiet and just says, “End it. Now”

Realizing what they said, you stop resisting and look over to Marc’s body. You look at him with pleading eyes and beg, “Guys, get up. Get up!”

Even though they are badly hurt, you can see the small shift between Steven and Jake. Jake, who tries to move but fails. Steven, who tries to reach out to you but can’t.

They soon give control to Marc. He tries his best to open his eyes and looks over at you. He mumbles your name, you’re the only thing he focuses on once again.

“Marc, fucking get up!” Your voice cracks.

You look back at Vanessa and now beg, “Please stop!”

She ignores you and winds her arm back, having a tight grip on the bat.

“Please don’t do this…” you sob, “Marc, please get up!”

Vanessa then brings the bat down and smashes it against Marc’s skull. Blood spilling more than there was.

“Nooo!” You yell out feeling your throat burn from forcing your vocal cords.

You sob as you stare at Marc’s lifeless body. The man who loved and protected you was no longer here. He was gone.

One of the members walk up to his body and spit on him, wishing him to be in hell. That same anger from before comes back up and you try to get up.

“I'll fucking kill you!” You keep repeating to them.

The members of the group began debating whether or not to kill you. However, as you stare at Marc, all of their voices become muffled. Your gaze then shifts to Vanessa, who drops the bat and turns to face you.

You remember her features. In fact, all of their features. Memorize them so they don't believe they are free. Keep them close by memorizing them. Remember them for Marc. Remember them for Steven. Remember them for Jake. It's for them.

You breathe heavily before one member comes to you and kicks you in the head to knock you out.

“Y/N” Layla softly calls out to you, shaking your body awake.

She is wearing her suit given to her by Tawaret. She was too late though.

You open your eyes slowly and mumble, “Are they…”

Layla looks down and nods, “I’m sorry”

Back at the apartment, you stayed sitting on their bed. What once used to be their bed. The sheets are still undone and you can still see where their head lay. They would have done the bed by now. There would be food being cooked right now. Instead, it was their funeral.

You fidget with the Star of David necklace that used to be theirs. Looking at it, remembering how it sat around their neck.

A knock comes from the door but you don’t try to get up. Usually it was one of them knocking, usually because they forgot their keys or wallet. But they aren’t here. The door didn’t matter.

It opens, and you can hear hesitant steps approaching you. Layla can be recognised by her heels clicking on the wooden floors. "Are you ready?" she asks, holding both hands over her stomach as she turns to face you.

Her voice is almost a whisper. She must have been crying all night.

“Yeah…” You look up at her and see you were right.

Her eyes were red and her face tear stained. Yet she tried to keep her composure for you. She wore a black slim dress with black heels. Her hair was tied in a low ponytail.

For you, all you had on was a black jacket, shirt, and jeans with black boots.

You two made your way outside the building to a taxi. Layla spoke to the driver while you remained silent and gazed out the window. You were numb because the world seemed numb to you.

Soon enough you got to the cemetery and saw a few people there. Not family but more of colleagues from his Egyptian work it seemed. You and Layla stayed close to his grave, watching as his coffin lowered inside. All you could do was think about his beaten face inside that coffin.

Once buried, everyone quickly left except you. You remained motionless, staring at the tombstone. You got down on your knees, grabbed a small pebble, and placed it on top of the stone, following a Jewish tradition you'd learned beforehand.

“I'm so sorry, I should have said that earlier. If only I did” you croaked.

After bidding farewell to last guests, Layla walked up behind you and put a hand on your shoulder, “When your ready”

"Um, I'll catch up to you. I just need more time," you say, looking up at her.

Layla gives a tight smile and nods, “Okay." She walks away, her steps fading away.

You breath out, seeing your breath in the cold. Your fingers were frozen but you didn’t care. As expected, you feel the wind pass by you. Knowing who it was, you didn’t bother in looking up.

“I am sorry for your loss, Y/N” Khonshu gently says.

You don’t say anything and continue to stare at Marc’s carved name on the tombstone. Khonshu doesn’t find it surprising and understands.

He thinks before he says, “As you humans say, they are no longer suffering here-”

“I want to go look for them.” You don’t look up at him when you say it. You grab a handful of dirt from the ground and slowly release it back down.

Khonshu, surprised, responds, "It's dangerous, they wouldn't want you to go alone"

"I know they wouldn't want me to, but I want to. Are you going to help me?" You take a step forward and look at him. He looks into your eyes and sees the revenge burning within your irises.

He stays quiet, which you take as a no. “Fine, I’ll do it by myself”

You clench your fist and look down at the grave. Marc's death plays over and over in your mind. Each face flashes through your mind, and you consider how each one aided in his death. How you begged them to stop.

“I’m going to kill, every last one of them”

---

Anyways, wasn't that cool? :D

Also, I know the argument between the reader and Marc was dumb but you try coming up with an argument that isn't cliche or one that would be reasonable for you to get mad at. It was for the plot is what I'm trying to say.

If yall want me to write a happy ending to it let me know or don't idk

#marc spector x reader #marvel #marc spector #steven grant x reader #jake lockley #jake lockely x reader #platonic #marc spector x teen!reader #steven grant x teen!reader #moon knight x teen!reader #layla x teen!reader #x teen!reader #angst #moon knight angst #the last of us #gn reader #gender neutral reader

306 notes · View notes