#of how much i don’t like it and plenty of people I follow post this pairing occasionally and shockingly it does not bother me. because | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

secretsandwriting · 13 days

Note

heyyyy ryyyyy <333

since ur requests are open i thought id go ahead and ask if you're mayhaps open to anything for batmom? i don't have a completely solid idea but maybe smn like batmom has been getting threats or maybe hate or smn from somebody and everyone's reactions and how they get hella protective?

obv no pressure and you definitely do not have to write this

hope you have a great day bb

Heyyyyy, so this grew hands and wrote itself, I hope you enjoy it. It did end up with a lot of backstory.

Earned Position

5.3k words

You knew this would happen. Once your relationship with Bruce got out there would be an influx of love and hate. You also knew that everyone else knew that as well. It was common knowledge than anyone around a celebrity of sorts would experience that.

Of course you did the normal things, turned off most notifications and only looked through areas online you knew would mostly be safe. You blocked tags and and only followed people you knew or ones who didn’t post about drama.

When you did stumble onto hate, you moved on. If someone kept sending you nasty messages you blocked them, when they made other accounts to keep sending the same things, you changed your settings so only those you followed could message you.

It wasn’t something you wanted to deal with but it was something you could handle. Something you started mentally preparing yourself for when Bruce’s attention on you lasted more than 4 dates, even more so when you caught yourself daydreaming about him.

You were not going to let random bitter people on the internet destroy your happiness like they did their own. Your family however, wanted to destroy what was left of your haters' happiness. Something you were trying to curb, but trying to tell a family of vigilantes who considered you the best mom in existence not to destroy your haters was like talking to a brick wall. Over the years, you had gotten used to it. It barely even registered anymore. But there had been a recent influx of the hate and while it didn’t bother you, it bothered the rest of your family. None of them could stand people talking bad about their mom.

While you hadn’t been there while the older ones were young, the second you had introduced yourself to them, you had taken a very important role in their lives. None of them realizing it at first. All of them had gotten used to the random women Bruce brought home that it took a little while for them to realize how important you were.

Dick wasn’t sure at first. Thinking you were just another girlfriend that wouldn’t last long. So he didn’t really interact with you much. Ignoring your existence when it wasn’t too rude, or at least obviously rude. Until one night when he was staying at the manor and had a nightmare about his parents death.

Bruce had an open bed policy. As long as there was still room for him, his bed was open. A policy he had started when Dick had gotten old enough he was worried he wouldn’t be allowed to go when he had a nightmare. Bruce had always reminded all his kids, that nightmares don’t go away just because you’re older and that needing comfort wasn’t something they would outgrow.

The thing was, you were there. Girlfriends didn’t mind when children did it but they never liked it when his adult kids did it. The shaking in his hands and the way he saw them fall in the darkness of every blink told him the only way he was getting any sleep was with someone.

Hopefully he could just slip into Bruce’s side and leave before you woke up. That was the plan until he found Damian on Bruce’s side and you had been pulled closer to Bruce taking up what was left. You moved a little and Dick took that as his sign to deal with it himself until he heard you whisper his name. He hummed so you knew it was him and not some random stranger standing over Bruce’s side of the bed.

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” You lifted the blanket next to you, “Bruce told me you guys come here when you have nightmares. There's plenty of room over here for you.” Dick hesitated for a second before giving in. He needed sleep anyway. You weren’t when you said there was plenty of room, Dick had most of your half of the bed. Once he had settled on his side, facing away from you, he felt you pull the blanket over his shoulders.

“Night Dick, sleep well.” For some reason, that was what did it. Once the tears started they didn’t stop. Silent sobs made him shudder and he felt one of your hands gently rubbing his back. “Oh Dick.” There was no pity in your tone and he found himself rolling over and curling into you. Your chin resting on his head while you rubbed his back.

The next day, he followed you around like a puppy. Your side of the bed became his favorite when he had nightmares and it wasn’t long before he turned to you for general comfort over anything.

Jason met you at his grave. Neither of you exchanged words, but he caught something in your gaze he didn’t quite understand. He also wasn’t sure why you were at his grave either, he didn’t know you when he was younger.

When he saw the Gotham News post about Bruce and Your 2nd anniversary, it brought more questions than answers. Why were you at his grave alone? Let alone longer than a few seconds. It was an odd way to gain more of Bruce’s affections.

Every Tuesday you would be there, leaving flowers and talking softly to the stone. Every time you left, you would smile and nod, the look in your eyes he couldn’t figure out was still there. Every time he would strain to heat what you were saying and only be able yo a few words here and there.

6 months into it, the routine changed. You brought a blanket and Basket with your usual flowers. You did what you normally did with the flowers but instead of talking to the stone you waved him over. When he didn’t move, you stopped what you were doing and looked at him.

“Jason Todd, I have been keeping your secret for 6 months. Helping me spread this blanket and having lunch won’t change it.” He stared at you while you waited expectantly. Eventually when he could get himself to move, he came over and helped. He sat down where you motioned for him too, all while trying to figure out how you knew.

“Bruce mentioned this used to be your favorite when you were younger so I asked Alfred to teach me how to make it. I hope it's up to your standards.” He looked at the plate of food you handed him. It was almost overflowing with food, all of which reminded him of the good times back at the manor before he died. “Alfred also sent your favorite cookies when he heard I would be eating at your grave.” The bag of cookies was placed next to the basket, within easy reach.

“Why?” Was all Jason managed to choke out around the lump in his throat.

“I decided early on in life, no matter who I was with, I would love their family as my own. My grandfather hated my grandmothers side and it caused a lot of pain in all the generations. I decided I would never do that to another family.” Jason found himself back in control enough to start eating.

“So when I started dating Bruce and he told me about you, I decided to treat you like you were my own. Even though I had never met you and you were dead. Most of what that meant was keeping your grave clean and always making sure there were fresh flowers. While I did that, I would tell you everything that was going on.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your eyes, they may be a different color but they looked too similar. So I did a little digging and found pictures of your biological pictures to place the face shape it matched. I think however you look more like Bruce then either of them.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“As much as I would love to. It’s your choice. You’ve been keeping this to yourself for a reason. If I can help you get to a place to tell them, I would love to. But I won’t say a word until you're ready. However, I would like to keep having lunch with you.”

A year later, Jason reintroduced himself to the rest of the family a lot calmer than originally planned and was glued to your side anytime he felt overwhelmed that night. Every Tuesday after that, lunch was scheduled.

Tim was nervous when it came to you. He was still living in the manor so he saw you more than the older two. You always seemed nice and respected his privacy but Bruce was always with you so you obviously would.

It was when he wasn’t around that worried Tim. Bruce attracted golddiggers and they were always mean when Bruce wasn’t there. When you were given a copy of the key, Time braced himself.

Of course he knew that if he told Bruce anything that happened like that, Bruce would break it off. He had always told them that they came first. But he also knew that Bruce liked you a lot. All the other ones Bruce liked a lot that turned out to be horrible, he broked it off. Tim had seen how it had made him upset and he really hated doing that to him. Maybe he could deal with it for once.

So when Bruce left for a business trip, Tim was Expecting the worst. What he didn’t expect was for you to knock on his door and ask if you could join him. When he agreed and stepped back so you could come in. He expected you to go to his bed or his desk chair not, the oversized bean bag on the floor.

“I have a question for you but you can’t tell Bruce yet.” Here it comes. “What would a funny way to tell him I know he’s Batman?” Tim wasn’t expecting that one. “I was thinking a lot of batpuns but his paranoia is too bad for that.”

“How did you figure it out?” You walked him through your process and didn’t say anything as he wrote parts of it down. Once you finished explaining the process for Bruce, you explained any way it was modified in figuring out their identities.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Red Robin.” Tim found himself getting excited.

“You know those notes you leave him in his office?” You nodded. “You should leave those in the Batcave.” You considered it but your thinking was interrupted but Tim shouting.

“No! One night when we’re all in the cave, you could bring some snacks!”

“You just want snacks when he’s lecturing you don’t you?”

“Maybe..”

“Alright, but you have to tell the others so they can tell me what snack they want.”

So Tim slowly and carefully went through all his siblings, letting them know you figured it out, Bruce didn’t know, and what the plan is. Every time he relayed a snack to you he’d watch how carefully you’d write it out to make sure you had it correct or look up recipes if you couldn’t find it in stores.

Two weeks later, Tim was the one who sent the signal in the middle of a lecture everyone was receiving and he got a front row seat to see Bruce’s face when you walked in and handed out snacks before giving him a kiss and telling him to be nice and leaving.

Any other worries were left in the dust when you helped him win the nerf war for the best seat in the home theater. He thoroughly enjoyed his spot next to you while Bruce swore revenge from the other side of the room.

Damian treated you politely but that was it. His mother was still alive and he didn’t want another one, one was more than enough. Not only that, but you were weird.

One time when you were over, you found one of his report cards. Immediately you were praising him. He didn’t understand why, he had basically failed one of his classes with an A-. You should be disappointed like his mother would be, not hanging it up on the fridge and telling people not to touch it. Definitely not taking him out for ice cream and calling him so smart. He definitely shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he walked past it, but he still was.

When he was practicing his violin and Messed up, you were supposed to tell him to stop failing, that he should be better. Not smiling at him and telling him he’s making good progress. You should be telling him that he should have memorized that piece in a day. He shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he finally does memorize it, it took him 4 days to learn it.

When he was struggling to learn a language, you were supposed to tell him to work harder. He could do better, after all, he already knew so many. Instead you just smiled and recommended a break to refresh his mind.

When he snapped at you in Arabic, he expected you to be upset since you didn’t know what he said and it was obviously not something nice. Instead you set the rule that if he was going to use Arabic to speak to you when upset, that he had to teach it to you and if what he said wasn’t something you had learned yet, he had to tell you in english. When he told you what it meant, you didn’t even get upset. He definitely shouldn’t be as excited as he was when you actually started learning.

So many more little things piled up, leaving Damian confused. The differences between how you and his mother treated him was so big he didn’t know how to process it, he liked you and all the little things made him happy in a way he hadn’t really felt. But he still loved his mom, When he had enough of it, he asked you to stop. He still wanted to love his mom. Once again, you did something you weren’t supposed to.

“Oh Damian, I’m not trying to replace your mom nor am I trying to make you feel like you can’t love her or she doesn’t love you. Your mom and I show our love in different ways and its ok for you to love or like both of us. You mother loves you and she will always be allowed in your life if thats what you want.” You weren’t supposed to do that, but Damian was really glad you did.

Barbara wasn’t sure how you would react to her. She wasn’t just Bruce’s kid. She had a loving family she went back to every night. Most people weren’t really a fan of that, one of Bruce’s past girlfriends had some strong and hurtful things to say about it.

When you took her for a day out, she found herself warming up to you but still waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of the new places you had planned to go, didn’t have wheelchair access. Like all the other girlfriends who had done this, she expected you to be annoyed that your plans had to change or you would just leave her outside while you shopped.

You didn’t seem to notice her hesitation, just looking at what was next on your list and starting the trip there. When Barbara stared a little longer at a new movie that was in theaters, tickets and snacks were bought and you listed to all the lore she told you about before it started.

While it had been a nice day, Barbara wasn’t convinced. One day was easy to fake. Sure she had lots of fun, but Barbara was used to fakes when it came to Bruce’s girlfriends. Of course she wasn’t complaining about you being nice, she just wasn’t sure how long it would last.

“Did you hear about that boutique?” She looked up from her food to look at her dad. “That new one that you tried to go to with Bruce’s girlfriend? Well there was a report that it didn’t meet the Americans with Disabilities act and the boutique is in trouble. People are speculating they’ll have to close down.”

Later that night, Barbara looked into it. They were in trouble, pretty big trouble from the looks of it. Towards the end of the article she found the name of the person who reported it, she wasn’t sure who she was expecting. Not you for sure but the Name Y/n L/n took her by surprise and filled her chest with feelings she couldn’t describe.

The boutique ended up closing but a new one opened. Once it was open, you were the first to ask her to go. That weird feeling came back when she wheeled herself up the ramp and through the door you held open for her. Later that night, in the privacy of her room. She decided she liked you.

Steph seemed like she liked you, she acted like she liked you, she didn’t really like you. Sure you were nice, Bruce loved you, the others were warming up to you, but she wasn’t sure how to feel about you. So she stuck with not actually liking you but pretending to.

So when she was around you, it was all smiles and jokes. She wasn’t a big fan of it all but she did it because she knew you were important to Bruce and that was enough of a reason for her. She knew Bruce and the others could see through the act but as long as you couldn’t, that was enough.

When Bruce announced he had to leave for a business trip right before she could hand him the parents visit for one of her AP classes, something the new teacher liked doing. She tucked the paper away. When Tim gave her a questioning look, she shook her head and later swore him to silence.

Every time she heard someone mention their parents were going, she felt a pang of jealousy in her chest. Every time Tim mentioned bringing it up to you, she swore him into silence again. It wouldn’t be the first time no one showed up for her. She was however thankful you wouldn’t be at the manor as much so she didn’t have to pretend to like you.

When the day arrived, Steph was not having a good day. School dragged on slowly. Slower than normal. When school finally ended, she had to sit in the classroom and watch everyone else that was in her class leave and the parents of her classmates show up while no one was there or coming for her.

Someone sat in the seat next to her, she expected another family member of one of her classmates. Definitely not you. She couldn’t return your smile, too unsure of how you found out, the fact you actually showed up, and how she felt about you being there. You leaned a little closer so that the others in the room wouldn’t easily overhear.

“I know I’m not your parent and someone you just pretend to like so if you want me to leave I will. But I figured someone was better then no one. Oh, and Tim wanted me to tell you he didn’t spill. Your teacher called the manor because no one had RSVPed for you and I answered it.”

That night, as Steph showed off all her hard work to you, the charade fell. She actually enjoyed her time with you and the boost of pride as you oohed and ahhed over all her projects and listened to her explain all the little details. That night, Steph realized, she didn’t need to keep pretending. She liked you, until she found out you didn’t like her favorite show but a nerf war solved that.

Cass could tell you were different then the other girlfriends, your body language as you interacted with all of them showed it. However that didn’t mean she knew how to interact with you.

She had learned that she was fairly hard for new people to interact with. She also knew she had trouble interacting with people she wasn’t fighting. So it wasn’t a surprise when it started rocky.

What was a surprise, was when you found out she was still having trouble reading and writing, you stepped in to help. Well, that wasn’t the surprising part, a lot of girlfriends did that. The surprising part was the amount of patience you had when it was only the two of you.

When one method didn’t help, you tried another. Never once did you snap at her or call her a name. Everytime you got frustrated you would stop and look at her, say something along the lines of “If I had as much trouble with this as you do, I wouldn’t want to keep trying. You're doing absolutely amazing! I’ll keep looking for other ideas, but for now, lets take a break and get a treat.”

Cass wasn’t sure why that always made her feel better, but it did. Every treat you brought was something you made just for the tutoring sessions and it always reminded her of what Alfred had told her once. “Something made with love for you will always taste better.”

And when a method that made it a little easier to learn was found, Cass found herself smiling along with your cheers. Bad days where she couldn’t seem to make any progress were always met with the same excitement, cheers, patience, and treats that all the others were.

Cass still wasn’t sure of what to think of you exactly, but she knew she liked you and that you cared about her.

So when Tim saw the new rise in hate, a sibling meeting was called. They all went through each site, blood boiling as they saw what people were saying about their new parent. Plans were made, declarations of war were ready, and anger fueled all of them. Bruce could tell something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what it was and as long as it didn’t get out of had, he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to deal with it.

War was declared in an interview by Steph. The lady was asking questions when the topic switched to Bruce, then you. The reporter was clearly trying to subtly find some dirt on you and Steph was not going to stand for it.

“Oh yeah! Y/n! She’s the best!” She put on her best press face. Trying to hide her anger over the hidden intent. She didn’t have to lie or act when talking about you but the change in the lady’s face going to disappointment when she didn’t get anything she wanted was making her look very punchable.

“She’s always showing up for us and making sure we’re doing ok. If Y/n and Bruce were to break up, I think most of us would go with Y/n.” The way the lady kept trying to get anything really got on her nerves and Steph decided she needed to get out of there before she started using the lady’s face for target practice. You wouldn’t like that.

Cass was the first one to resort to violence. They had asked a thinly veiled question, basically asking if you were a golddigger. So she punched him in the nose and leaned down to flip the camera off. She hated interviews already but that made it so much worse. She hoped you wouldn’t be too upset with her punching the guy though.

Jason, surprisingly enough. Did not get violent… physically. He did however curse one out and threaten him when the reporter implied you were forcing them to say nice things. When the reporter kept pressing Jason broke his mic and told him if he ever heard him talking bad about you again, a broken mic would be the last of his worries. Jason knew you would be disappointed but he had held back, he didn’t shoot the guy like he wanted.

Tim threw his coffee at one reporter because he heard them say you were nothing but a regular person who didn’t deserve any attention. He then took over her segment, threatening the company to air it or he would make sure they went bankrupt. Once he finished his threats, anything he said was praising you name. Telling everyone how amazing you were and how much they all loved you.

Barbara made it a point to bring up everything you did for the community when they tried to throw some shade at you in an interview. She had documents to prove it and hacked their systems to add them into the interview so they couldn’t claim it was fake. She also made sure to run over his foot when she left.

Dick punched a reporter when they tried to ask him what you were really like behind closed doors. He told them the truth, that you were just as good, kind, patient, and loving behind closed doors as you were out in public. He didn’t throw a punch until the reporter disregarded that as asked again because she couldn’t be that good. Dick knew a lecture would be coming once you saw, but he would rather sit through a lecture then let anyone tarnish your name.

Damian spent 10 minutes cursing and threatening a reporter in Arabic when they asked him if you had ever hurt him. When he was done, he told them in english, that if he ever got asked that question again, he would impale them. He knew you were going to make him sit down and translate everything and the general response you would give but he didn’t care, no one speaks bad about either of his mothers.

Bruce figured out what was going on after Steph’s interview. He saw the ones where they assaulted or threatened the reporters and made sure his lawyers were on standby to keep the kids out of trouble. After all, he had seen more than they had.

He had watched as you tried to connect with Dick early on, how you worked hard to try and get somewhere. He had woken up before you when Dick had come in that night and heard how you handled it. He had woken up the next morning to find you holding Dick close, like you were trying to protect him from the nightmares. He had seen how you never turned Dick down when he wanted comfort, no matter how serious or silly the matter, and he had heard your excitement when you told him Dick liked you.

Bruce had seen the way you never missed a visit to Jason’s grave, on a visit of his own, he saw how much care you showed the stone marking it as his lost son. While he hadn’t been sure why it was alway the same time on Tuesday, he didn;t mention it. He felt the way you would sob in his arms after each visit, a year after the tradition started, you always said you had promised not to tell and he watched as you kept that promise even if it tore you to pieces. Once the shock and tears wore off for a little bit, he could see the trust that Jason had in you.

He heard the way you questioned if you should have a key to the manor, you didn’t want to make Tim uncomfortable in his own home, or how you questioned if you should visit while he was gone. Not wanting to stress Tim out when there was no reason too. He saw the way you and Tim grinned at each other when you brought snacks down for all the kids he was currently lecturing. He head the excitement in your voice as you told him about the tour Tim had given you of the Batcave and the shared laughter as you and Tim worked together to win the nerf war.

Bruce saw how you worked to give Damian the affection he didn’t think he needed. He felt you crying in his arms upset over the fact Damian thought you would be angry because he made a mistake or struggled in a class. He heard you practicing your Arabic as you got ready for bed and he watched as you stress paced over whether or not you said the right thing to him about his mother.

He saw how angry you had been when you came back from your day out with Barbara. He had heard your call with your lawyer as you tried to figure out what to do. He saw you going through the laws and making a list to make sure your lawyer didn’t miss any. He heard about the movie you didn’t particularly care about and the lore you remembered in case of another because you wanted Barbara to have someone she could tell all of her favorite things too.

Bruce saw the pictures you had taken from the school night. He heard all the details from you as you praised Steph’s work. He saw the way Steph stopped acting around you and the silly arguments the two of you would get into for fun. He heard the way you would listen to her as she verbally worked out her problems. He saw the way Steph looked for you in a crowd, the way she knew you were there but not where you stood exactly, the thought of you not being there never crossed her.

He saw the way you stayed up late, researching different ways to teach reading and writing. He heard the patience and kindness and you worked with Cass. He saw the way you always made a treat just for Cass to have after each lesson because you wanted to reward her hard work. He heard the way you cried for Cass when she had a bad day and got frustrated with herself because you knew she was smart and you wanted her to see it too. He heard your celebrations when Cass made any progress, no matter the size.

Bruce heard, saw, and felt the way you worked hard to have a relationship with his kids. How you had mourned for their losses, celebrated their wins, and felt their pain. He saw the way his kids blossomed under your care, growing to be better and more confident in themselves. The way you cared for them as if they were your own flesh and blood. So when he was asked about his kids behavior, he said as much.

“Y/n has worked hard to be accepted by them. She’s given so much of her time, effort, patience, and love and never wanted anything in return. She always shows up for them, no matter what the occasion is, big or small, it doesn’t matter. If they want her there, she’ll be there. Everytime they need or want her, she’s there. She never judges them and treats them as if they were her own blood. Of course their upset and lashing out, people are insulting the woman who has cared for them more then most of their biological mothers.”

Later, a clip of you scolding Bruce and all the kids went viral. While you were scolding them over their behavior and making the kids who had reacted with violence or threats write apology letters because asking mean questions does not make it right to respond badly especially when its someone just trying to start drama. Everyone one noticed that there was no actual bite to your tone and no anger when they all refused to stop acting like that. In fact, there was a small soft smile on your face as you shook your head at your family.

#dc #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #fem reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #Damian wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #batfamily x reader #batmom reader #batmom #request #cipheress-to-k-pop

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lowkeyerror · 1 month

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The Family Business Ch.4

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Chapter Notes: Brief mention of the red room nothing crazy

Summary: Natasha is nervous about finally having some personal time with Wanda’s family. You help her fight through those nerves. Meanwhile Wanda struggles to come to terms with how much of your growth she missed.

An: Posting consistently again got me feeling in my prime. No promises, but might post chapter 5 later this week instead of next monday.

Series Masterlist| Masterlist

Once you were done with work, and had your flowers for Flora, you were ready to go to the Maximoff’s house. You’d sent a quick text to Dragos telling him that you’d bring Natasha with you, to save them an extra unnecessary trip.

You pack your things quickly and head to the car, Natasha follows behind you. When you get in the car, you finally notice the subtle nervousness of Natasha.

“Are you scared to meet Wanda’s mom?”

Natasha nods a little, “It’s more than that. You guys are the most important people in her life. She told me so herself. Dragos doesn’t like me yet, Pietro and I really just looked at each other, and I heard Flora’s got high standards when it comes to partners.”

“Well, they are the kindest people you could ever meet. All they'll care about is that you keep Wanda happy,” you insist.

“I think the kindness goes out of the window, when you find out your daughter got married to a Russian spy that tried to kill her,” Natasha mumbles.

You try to offer her some comfort, “I’m not going to argue with that but, you’ll get a little break, when I tell them I like you.”

“Really?”

“If Wanda told you all about me, then you should know they've got a soft spot for me,” you’re a little embarrassed when you say it, but it’s the truth.

If Natasha notices your embarrassment, she doesn't bring it up, “Wanda says you’re basically a Maximoff every time she tells a story about you.”

You smile, “I like to think of them as my family too. There’s been plenty of times where I want to call Dragos, papa. That means there’s even more times when I want call Flora Mama.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t want to take the chance and ruin our dynamic.”

The Russian sighs as the house comes into view. “I think they’d both love it. The way Wanda tells it, they feel as though you're one of their kids.”

You park the car before answering Natasha, “Maybe one day.”

With the hydrangeas in hand, you head to the front door. Natasha tries to walk behind you, but you pull her forward so she’s next to you.

“This is a family you have to face head on. Those uncertainties you have, keep them close to you. Don’t let them see your nerves because they’ll pounce. Just remember that you love Wanda, and she loves you too,” your attempt at a pep talk seems to calm her nerves a bit.

“You said they were nice people. Nice people don’t have warnings.”

You roll your eyes, “Natasha you secretly married the daughter of a crime lord without ever meeting the family, there’s a shitload of warnings.”

The door swings open before you have the chance to knock. You find yourself being pulled into a warm hug. It’s only a moment before Flora’s hands land on your face. She turns your head a couple times checking that you are fine, before planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Y/n, where have you been sweetheart? Too old to come see me anymore, huh? You’ve got bags under your eyes Malysh, have you been sleeping ok?”

You smile warmly at her antics, “I’ll never be too old to come visit my Flora. As a sorry, for being away I brought you these.”

Flora takes the flowers from you. “Always knowing how to get into my good graces, these are beautiful Y/n.” Her eyes dart to Natasha and you watch as her features go neutral.

“You must be Natasha.”

The red head extends her hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs.Maximoff.”

Flora shakes her hand, “Yes, if only we could've done this sooner. “

Natasha doesn’t shift at the words, but you can feel her nerves from besides you. Flora beckons you both into the house and you follow her into the kitchen. She grabs a vase for the flowers and begins to fill it with water.

“So, why Natasha?” She says as she places the flowers in the vase.

“I’m sorry?” Natasha is confused by the question.

Flora keeps her eyes on the flowers, “Why’d you pick the name Natasha? Natalia is a fairly pretty name, why not keep it?”

You weren't surprised that Flora had done some research on the woman. However, Natasha was taken aback by the question. She wasn’t expecting it, so it took her a moment to respond.

“As a spy, I have many aliases. However, Natasha never felt like an alias, she just felt like me. My parents and sister call me Natalia often just to tease me, but even they seem to like Natasha better.”

You decide to help the Russian out, “Are you close with your family, Natasha?”

She nods, “Very close. My parents took Yelena and I when we were very little. They saved us from some terrible people, I owe then everything. Though they'd never let me repay them.”

“Reminds me of us,” you say to Flora, who has now softened her gaze on the redhead.

Flora had a soft spot for children in tough places. You knew that's why she originally gravitated towards you, when Pietro first brought you around. This was the perfect topic to get Natasha on Flora’s good side.

“If we found you any younger you would've had our last name,” Flora places the vase the table. She eyes Natasha for a moment before asking about her childhood, “Foster care?”

Natasha stiffens a little, “Worse. Young girls all taken and trained to be weapons for whatever they needed.”

Flora’s eyes become glossy, “The red room.”

Natasha’s gaze was locked on the floor, “Yeah.”

It is a quick turn of events when Flora wraps her arms around Natasha. She holds the woman firm as she begins to speak in Russian. You don't understand all of it, but it seems that Flora was intimately familiar with the place.

“You two go and make yourselves comfortable while I start dinner,” she says finally releasing Natasha.

“You don’t want help?”

Flora shakes her head, “Go, relax malysh. I’ve got it covered in here.”

Instead of leading Natasha to the living room, you take her to the backyard. There is a beautiful large grass area, with a nice garden space in the corner. The patio has the perfect view of the sunset. You sit on one of the patio chairs and Natasha sits beside you.

“I think that went well,” you say to her.

“Thanks to you, it went really well,” Natasha looks at you gratefully.

You shake your head, “I didn’t do much.”

Natasha argues back, “I see why they call you the glue. If you hadn’t made your comment, she would’ve slighted me all night.”

“Don’t give me too much credit, you would've had her the moment you asked how many people she killed,” you joke, and Natasha gets a bit embarrassed.

“Sorry, I guess I just- “

You stop her, “It’s fine, Nat. I’ve been underestimated all my life. My first kill is symbolic to me, even in that pitiful state, I was able to snap someone’s neck. I remember all of them, though it’s not a lot, I also remember each one getting easier.”

She looks at you, “The longer it gets, the less you remember, and then one day you’re left with the memory of how you used to feel about it. Maybe it fills you with pride in the beginning, but eventually killing just leaves you feeling empty.”

Wanda comes into the backyard before you could answer the Russian.

“She’s not giving you too much trouble is she, Y/n?”

Natasha sends her wife a pointed look. You laugh at the interaction.

“She’s a pleasure to have around. I can see why you married her, regardless of the assassination attempt.”

Wanda tilts her head but keeps a smile on her face, “Telling our love story without me, my love?”

“It just came up. How was the meeting?”

Wanda plops down next to you before leaning back, “Apparently Kingpin is looking to expand his control. At least that’s what Hammerhead said.”

You clench your jaw at the mention of the large man, “He’s such a greedy bastard. He has the second largest market besides us. Which means he thinks he can take over us. I couldn’t imagine being a guy that big with no fucking brains.”

Wanda shakes her head and chuckles slightly, “You sound just like Papa. He was pissed when he heard.”

“How is he now?” You ask knowing he could get a little reckless when he was angry.

“For now, he’s alright. I told him we could use Kingpin’s greed as an example. We can crush him and in turn teach the others not to try to cross us.”

Your hands reach to rub your temples, “You make it sound so easy.”

“It will be,” you can hear the determination in her voice.

Natasha interjects, “I think Y/n has a point. It’s definitely easier said than done.”

You keep your composure, “Kingpin selling is a problem in itself, but the people should know better than to buy from him. Whoever is making purchases with him is not being loyal to us. That means he’s making allies, or rather he is taking our allies away from us. It strengthens his numbers while diminishing ours. He’s trying to start a revolution.”

Before it could be discussed any further Dragos appears, “We can discuss it more tomorrow. Tonight, we celebrate Wanda’s homecoming… and marriage. Dinner is ready.”

You’re the first out of your chair and into the house. It leaves Dragos some time with the couple.

“Remember we only talk business outside of the office, if it is absolutely necessary,” he reminds his daughter.

“She still gets that way?” Wanda asks referring to you.

He shakes his head, “She’s just started brainstorming and it’s hard for her to put it aside. She’s not that timid little girl anymore.”

Wanda lets out an irritated sigh, “Why does everyone keep saying that? I know her just like everyone else, papa. I’ve cared for her, I’ve trained her, and- “

“You missed 5 years of her life; you missed her graduation, you missed her putting all of her training to practical use, you missed her joining the family business. No one is saying that you didn't know her well, but you can’t act like you witnessed her growth.”

“It’s not my fault that I wasn’t there,” she speaks through gritted teeth.

“No one is saying it was, malysh.”

Natasha grabs her wife’s hand, “We’re celebrating you tonight like your father said. Let’s just enjoy this and eat. You never stopped talking about your mother’s cooking and the longer we spend out here, the colder the food gets in there.”

Wanda gets up from her seat, “You’re right. I’m sorry Papa, I’m just not used to being home yet.”

“It’s alright, her growth is startling. I still remember how I felt when Pietro told me she killed a boy. It was a shock; I didn’t want to believe it. She was so delicate that I couldn't picture her doing it.”

“Y/n killed somebody?”

Natasha nods, “She told me about it. Y/n actually has a little ledger, 8 people.”

Wanda’s eyes widen, “She told you about it?”

The conversation stops there, when you come back, “Flora said if you guys don’t come to dinner now that Piet and I can have your plates.”

“You’d eat Wanda’s welcome home meal, that’s pretty criminal even by our standards,” Natasha says pulling her wife along into the house.

“Oh 100%, you would too if you had Flora’s cooking.”

The playful banter continues, even once everyone is sat at the dinner table. Conversation flows freely, but Wanda doesn't contribute much. All that circles her mind is you.

Her father’s words echo in her head. She had missed some of the most important moments of your life. Wanda was scared to admit that she hardly recognized the woman you’ve grown into.

It bothered her. She was jealous that everyone got to see you blossom, but her. Even Wanda’s wife seemed to know things about you that she didn’t. It was a pill that she didn’t want to swallow.

Her little Krolik wasn’t so little anymore.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #wandanat #pietro maximoff

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honeytonedhottie · 2 months

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starting and managing ur blog⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍰

so you wanna start a blog? in this post i’ll break down effective ways to start, manage and maintain a blog (from my own experience of course) i hope u find this helpful ✨

TOPIC AND IDEA ;

to have a blog you need an idea or concept about what your blog will be about. make your blog about either something that you know a lot about/are proficient in.

or blog about something that u are learning about as a way to track ur progress and learn new information. you could blog about something that you love a lot etc etc.

AESTHETIC ;

what is your aesthetic? for me it’s hyper feminine and pink and just DIVINE. when u choose and stick to an aesthetic it’ll give ur blog kind of a signature which is important for the rest of this post.

when u have an aesthetic in mind for ur blog make sure that you have plenty of pins on pinterest that mesh nicely with ur aesthetic so u can find things like headers, dividers, photos and emojis that suit the aesthetic of ur blog.

RESOURCES ;

pinterest is my holy grail for resources. there u can find headers and photos to use in ur posts to give ur audience something visually pleasing to look at while they read ur post.

what ur gonna want to start off ur blog aesthetic and theme is ;

a header

a color scheme (for coloring/bolding words. and the colors for ur blog page in general)

an informative bio

a pfp

dividers

START OFF POST IDEAS ;

if u want to run a well organized blog there are a couple posts that i think are beneficial for u to make. in fact the most important post that i think any blog should have is a MASTERLIST.

master lists are great for a multitude of things. they help ur audience to navigate ur blog easier and see all that you have to offer in one convenient tap of their finger. plus when u make navigating ur blog easy, more people will experience ur content which will mean more interactions with ur post.

not only does it help the audience but it also helps u to know what u did and didn’t post, so that u can plan effectively for the future. it’s also a fun way to see how much u posted. i recommend making a new masterlist every year or when you can’t put any more links onto it 💀. if u want a reference for a good masterlist you can check out mine right here.

CONSISTENCY ;

consistency is key in anything and everything and blogging is no exception. i recommend not blogging in a competitive nature, rather i think in order to be consistent with something like a blog you should genuinely just do it for funsies/passion and as a way to have ur own authentic creative outlet.

i don’t have a set posting schedule bcuz i don’t want blogging to feel like a chore when in reality it’s just a hobby that happened to gain an audience because people enjoyed it. and because people enjoy what i write, it in return makes me happy and wanna write more.

SIGNATURE ;

i cannot stress this enough but when u have a platform whether it’s small or big individuality sets you apart! have something that sets u apart like personalized hash-tags, a way that u talk, etc etc.

personalize hash-tags with things like emojis. also, USE UR HASHTAGS because when someone looks up something like “self improvement” your post will be what they see if u add those hashtags.

furthermore if u personalize those hashtags it sets u apart and gives ur blog a kind of brand and individuality in a way. like a signature at the end of a post.

THINGS TO KEEP TRACK OF ;

what posts you’ve done/want to do

upcoming projects or ideas that u have

how your following/interactions are growing or shrinking

how much $ u get from tips

inbox questions or dms to answer

your plans and goals

your personalized hashtags

i hope this post was helpful to anyone who has been thinking about or wants to create their own blog, i encourage you to do so ✨

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gerardpilled · 11 months

Note

I want to say thanks for acknowledging and being critical of racism done by MCR band members and racism in the scene in general. I just recently got into MCR a year ago on a deeper scale and I have found many things off putting and kind of yikes. It's nice seeing someone who is critical of what the band members have done in the past and not excusing them and addressing that it was an issue as a whole. I used to be very hateful towards Lindsey but now I realize that it would be hypocritical (I still do not like MSI just due to it not being my taste in music and I don't care for that shock value type lyrics). I was wondering if you know any resources that talk more about racism in the scene? It's something I'd like to know more about

Oh it’s no problem! Thank you for thanking me, but I don’t see myself as doing anything special. I was raised in an environment where I was fortunate enough to be around people and friends who have made me aware of implicit racism -from my self and others- since an early age. Hearing “well, that’s cause you’re white” is a playful joke but it also made me aware of stuff! Just from what I’ve seen in recent years, the shortcomings of white people who are the focus of fandom are often ignored. There’s nothing wrong with pointing out a racist thing your fave said or did because it doesn’t necessarily make them A Racist™️ (sometimes it can). It also helps people recognize the issues before they get worse. POC aren’t a monolith - there are plenty of things disagreed on amongst any community - but there are definitely over arching sentiments.

Anyway, I’m basically just reiterating a bunch of talking points made by poc on here. As for further reading, I feel like the best sources for me have been mutuals’ posts. First hand stories. Being receptive when people share how certain things make them feel. Racism in this particular scene is also sort of a new and emerging topic as the people who lived through the heart of it are just now reaching authorship age. I look forward to seeing what comes out in the next few years.

What I have right now:

My Chemical Relaxer - a short autobiographical story about growing up Black and emo

News story about how the current state of hardcore is looking much more diverse

Sing It Zine - zine made by fanartists a few years ago!! It’s great, I bought a digital copy myself. It’s filled with art and short essays about how it felt to grow up in a scene that often ignored non white people. Also a bunch of tumblr users participated, so it offers a great follow list if you’re interested.

If anyone else has any suggestions, add them in a reblog, or send them and I’ll do it!

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relaxxattack · 11 months

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there have been plenty of updates to this site that users haven’t liked; the change to the post stack, most famously, that makes long posts actually readable instead of getting infinitely smaller. sometimes people just dislike change because it’s change. adding tumblr live was horrible, and against the law in most of the world, and most of us hate it, but we can just click to make it go away. functionally, it doesn’t change much of the site.

but this recent change has actually actively taken away functions of this site that, to me at least and to most people i know, are literally used daily and are somewhat crucial to the enjoyment and ability to navigate the site???

yes, i have seen that post about how clicking the box takes you to the prev-- it only works One Time. you can’t follow a chain. and not to mention, it does not give you access to a link, meaning you can’t open it in a new tab, meaning you need to lose your place in scrolling if you want to even see it.

i have seen SO MUCH backlash over these changes, and yet they’re not being taken away and in fact are being extended to places like the search tab??

this is kind of just a rant so don’t take me too serious but holy shit i’m really frustrated because this genuinely fucks up a lot of how i use tumblr as a stimboard maker and a post archiver, because it makes it so much harder to find original sources to credit. i’m sure it fucks shit up for a lot of other users too.

it’s so so frustrating to see such a large amount of the userbase backlash against this and to then just be essentially ignore or rolled over.

i feel like at this point we’d have to organize some kind of strike to be taken even a little seriously. which is literally fucking ridiculous.

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 1 year

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don't hold hands, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You're fucking your ex-boyfriend's ex-best friend. You also now own a condo with him and owning this condo has made you house-poor. Yeah, it's not the usual love story and it's not going to be one. Not until you paint the walls black, that is.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mostly conversations and feels tbh; minor smut (fem reader, marking / scratching, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU; guitarist!music producer!Yoongi x novelist!reader - fwb / roommates-to-lovers

just a story about two people who shouldn't fall in love falling in love, I have plenty of nasty smut so this is a different beat for ya lmao

“Is it fun being tortured?”

“Not really, no.”

It wasn’t fair to be this critical but, as long as you didn’t let these words travel outside this room, it was fine, right? At least, you kept telling yourself that. Delusion at its finest.

“It’s so stupid that people enjoy sticking their nose in drama that doesn’t involve them only because their lives are too boring to have any,” you sighed, tossing your phone across your desk, letting it skid into a pile of post-its covered in scrawled notes. “All because I deleted some photos.”

Notifications were now blocked.

“Some people mistake privilege with right.”

You glared at your phone even though the contents were the offender and not the device. Rolled your eyes, knowing you would be coming back to a shitstorm, but you couldn’t take it anymore. There had to be a limit. And the voice beside you had been telling you to put the damn thing down and stop deleting comments one by one, but the stubborn ram in you thought you could just headbutt through the bullshit.

And that imagery was gonna end there, thank you very much.

Your forehead found the palm of your hand and you sighed again, suddenly feeling the weight.

“I’m never doing that again.”

“You don’t have to.”

Minutes passed.

Silence never felt so serene.

Then it was cut through by steady, slow acoustic guitar, the notes drifting out from behind you. It almost made you feel more guilty. Almost. How fucked was that? You, sitting here right now, staring at nearly bare walls and a table covered in notes and your trusty laptop, almost feeling guilty for the guy that had backed out of the joint loan for this condo in the city that you didn’t even fuckin’ want, but you had been too far into the process to not lose a whole lotta money and too angry to let yourself lose.

How ironic, feeling guilty for the guy who cheated on you.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” was the guitar player’s response. “And you shouldn’t be either. For anything.”

You knew you shouldn’t apologize. It just felt like the thing to do, because you hadn’t been wholly right either and, even if you weren’t more in the wrong, you were still wrong, and wasn’t that fucked, putting levels of blame on a situation that, at the end of the day, was all said and done and left everybody bitter and full of scars.

The shitty part was everyone was on your case now and blaming you.

This was what you got for dating the lead singer of a punk band that skyrocketed to popularity on social media. Looked all elegant dark romance on TikTok and Instagram, just screaming and hate-fucking behind closed doors. Constant content to cover up the toxicity. And maybe it was your fault too, letting it get to your head that maybe you really were the beautiful, mysterious muse that the followers painted you out to be. You glossed over red flags – late nights, drugs and drinking, sleeping in rooms of girls that called themselves fans – all part of the industry. Nothing happened. Honest. But the greatest mistake was letting him tag you on Instagram. How cool was it that you were an author?

This bastard.

Not only had you given him some of your best quotes for his lyrics, but now you couldn’t publish those words as your own because this bastard would fuckin’ sue you for plagiarizing.

The guitar continued behind you, on the mattress on the floor.

So, not only were you getting crucified on social media at the moment because he had called you a backhanded bitch in his Instagram stories but also because you had deleted all photos of him on your profile and said fucking nothing. Silence to be polite and all that. He cheated on you, he was leaving you for some whore you had plenty of suspicions about, and, worst of all, he waited until you and him were finalizing the down payment for this expensive-ass-fuck high-rise condo – that money was out of your own pocket, not his, how convenient – and backed out of the loan for the mortgage. His reasoning?

You cheated on him first.

Hello?

With his former guitarist.

Hello?

Your ex-boyfriend had fired his former guitarist ages ago because you and him had gotten too friendly.

Alright, man.

You liked the guy, sure. Talked to him when he was in the studio and found you had a lot in common. Plus, he was crazy talented. Made most of the melodies, self-produced a lot of the songs for the band so they could save money, even contributed to lyric writing so they didn’t have to spend on that either. He even had a good voice, although sadly the band rarely used it. Your art of words paired with his knowledge of music made some viral hits. But then tensions rose between him and your ex when they started butting heads for no reason (there was a reason and it was ugly jealousy). Then arguments rose between you and your ex, but instead of breaking up, you buried yourself into writing your next novel to let the situation cool off.

Sigh, okay, call a spade a spade.

You were avoiding the confrontation.

He fired his guitarist and got a new one.

Then things were good.

Until they weren’t.

Of course, they weren’t. You didn’t solve shit, and he was fucking every girl that threw themselves at him behind your back. Good thing you had strict rules about condoms, otherwise you would probably have some lasting consequences right now. So, when the ground cracked and split apart from under you, what did you do?

Yup, this was the part that made you no better.

You found that former guitarist and fucked him.

Word travelled around. Word also travelled around that somehow you got someone to be part of that insane loan you got talked into. And, oh, shit, did things get messy once a certain someone knew who it was.

But here you were.

Feeling guilty.

You probably couldn’t publish for at least six months to a year because, harrowingly, your demographic was young adult – you had even relied on social media for self-marketing, fuck – and the half of a novel you had now had to be scrapped considering that so many of the quotes were now distressed in dark venues by the lips of an egomaniacal dick that you allowed into your pussy far too many times. Once was already too many.

Fuck.

You didn’t even want to live in the city.

It’ll be so much easier for me to get bigger opportunities. Don’t be a selfish bitch and only think about yourself.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to throw your laptop into the wall and break it into smithereens, but you didn’t because this piece of technology was currently your only chance of making money. Fuck. Me. Always talking about himself like he was only important member of the band, even though it was the other guys who wrote most of the music and lyrics. No one sided with you, obviously. This was their job and technically not their romance. They were sympathetic but not empathetic to the point of jeopardizing their jobs. Obviously, you hadn’t signed any contracts for royalties or credit. This was supposed to be your soulmate.

Soulmates weren’t so generous to give you pennies.

You’re being greedy and self-important. Oh, so you’re only in the relationship for the money? I’ll give you money once we make it big. Once we get it all, I’ll buy you everything you want. But you gotta help me out now. We’re starving artists, ya know?

You should have asked your parents for monetary help, but you didn’t. Your pride didn’t want to hear the told-you-so speeches for dating a guy they didn’t choose for you. You also didn’t want the arranged marriage appointments back in your life either.

So.

Trapped in white walls, post-its of false starts, and impending doom.

Dramatic, but you were a writer.

“Come here and sit down with me.”

Some part of you didn’t want to face him. It was really dumb. He was your new roommate now. You were fucking him when you were too sad to avoid it, and it was pretty obvious he knew. You were living off his money. Sure, he only paid for half the rent but then food mysteriously appeared in the fridge, bathroom necessities were stocked when they were running low, cleaning supplies neatly sorted into the closet, and all that other shit. None of that wholesale stuff either, but the nicer things normal households could afford.

It wasn’t an exaggeration that you cried into the soap during your shower last night.

All because you finally acknowledged it wasn’t one of those shitty bars that made skin feel like plastic but actually fragrant lathering liquid that you could put on the dense, not-falling-apart-in-one-use loofah that you hadn’t bought. You would have been satisfied with cutting coupons and living on the dregs of the bare minimum, but someone cared enough to not let you do that, and you currently couldn’t do anything to contribute and probably couldn’t for a while.

And that made you feel undeserving.

Maybe you were only fucking him because that was all you could offer.

Pathetic.

The guitarist called your name softly.

Like a beaten dog, you got up and sat down beside Min Yoongi.

He continued to play a melody you didn’t know on his black acoustic guitar. He hadn’t moved in all his instruments and equipment yet. You had told him he could have the whole living room for his studio. He had asked if you were sure and you responded that you were sure that you weren’t going to have anybody over ever so, unless he wanted a living room space, you didn’t want one.

“Shit always happens, you know,” the deep voice reminded you.

“This happening was of my own doing and now I’ve ruined my own life,” you muttered, bitter over a boy and hating that you were bitter over a boy.

A small chuckle. “You have to admit you had help.”

Stupid boy.

“Can’t be helped. Humans are animals of regret.”

It stung to regret.

The guitar playing stopped and now you were met with silence.

Don’t cry.

But it was so tiring to be angry. So easy to be sad. So easy to think, my fault, for being swept up in what he was but not who he was, for believing that you knew what was best when clearly it wasn’t, for being spiteful on purpose. For avoiding looking at Yoongi in the face because you were too ashamed to acknowledge what was going on here.

For being too afraid to ask what he thought of it.

“I regretted not stealing you from him sooner. Thought you were too fuckable for that loser from the first day we met.”

A strange feeling.

Skin prickling, glancing the that pale hand of graceful, callused fingers simply resting on the neck of that guitar, not looking at Yoongi’s face even though you knew it quite well in profile.

“That’s one way to make me feel better,” you replied.

“I’m not trying to make you feel better. Just being honest,” he replied, tapping his fingertips on the wood. “You are ten times too talented and a hundred times too pretty for a guy like that.”

You twitched. “Are you shitting on my standards?”

“Back then? Yeah, I am.” A calm hum, setting aside his guitar and placing his elbows on his sweatpants-covered knees, charcoal gray and worn. “Pretty clear you went full desperado for a guy that didn’t deserve it. Also, he ain’t hot shit like he thinks he is.”

Ow and what the fuck. “Fuck off.”

You felt movement and tracked his hand raising, spinning a finger around his temple. A brief glance and the details sank in. Long, windswept black waves, light cream skin, pointed gaze directed forward and not at you, pensive slight frown of pink lips. You looked away again, past his loose white t-shirt and to your hands.

You used to be proud of them.

They used to be able to type prose like no other.

Now they were twisted in an oversized, olive-green sweatshirt that you picked up from the sale bin of the convenience store for dirt cheap and they didn’t write jack shit.

You also hated olive-green.

Nothing personal. It just wasn’t your color.

“You’re a psycho bitch to put up with him,” Yoongi commented.

He wasn’t wrong. “I’m a psycho bitch all the time.”

“Yeah, and I don’t date crazy.”

You thought you would feel insulted, but you were past the point of caring. Also, there was something about the way his calm voice said it. Like he knew what he was doing. Huh. That was a silly thing to think. Of course, Yoongi knew what he was doing. He did it. He let you in his studio when you tracked it down and camped out until he showed up. He had listened to your psychobabble and didn’t back away when you pinned him to the wall.

This wasn’t dating.

“At least, I thought I didn’t,” Yoongi added, not touching you.

He fucked you too. He wasn’t a starfish in bed, that was for sure.

“I wanted to get back at him too, you know,” that deep, hazy voice murmured beside you. “That bastard turned my friends against me, stole my mixes, and cut out all my connections. Made me start from the ground up, alone.”

Yeah, you did know that. You helped badmouth Yoongi. In the name of love.

Shit.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry.”

Ouch.

“And you shouldn’t be, ‘cause what’s done is done and being sorry isn’t going to change anything.”

You untwisted your hands from each other, realizing your knuckles were white from anxiousness, and relaxed them on your bare knees. Best you could, anyway.

“Yeah,” was the best response you had. This fucking boy ruined your life and stole your eloquence too, apparently. Motherfucker. “You’re right.”

Neither you or Yoongi said anything.

Minutes passed.

Another night in the condo and both of you were sitting on a mattress with a single blanket, deflated pillows, and a box of condoms on the floor.

You touched his forearm the same time his hand moved to grip your thigh.

And then it was the don’t-look-him-in-the-eyes challenge, and he was doing the exact same thing, eyes averted, black hair over them, lips grazing your jaw. Breath against your ear. Hot. His neck under your lips, flexed, fair skin with remnants of bruises, and your teeth sank in, making new ones, listening to his hiss and feeling his hands slide under your sweatshirt. Weighted palms and blunt nails. Digging in.

“Harder.”

He scratched you up as you climbed into his lap, tasting flesh.

Those firm hands gripped your hips and forced them down. Grinding. Softness to growing hardness, unhooking your bra, hands all over like you had lost your mind, your thighs squeezing his sides, yanking his shirt collar down and licking up his collarbone, dripping spit, shivering as you saw it glisten over his marred skin.

Clothes coming off, thrown aside. Guitar sliding to the hardwood floor as bodies tumbled. Your hands on his chest, your hard nipples pressed into the sheets as Yoongi slipped his hand into your hair and shoved your head down. Mouth open, tongue curling around. Moan striking the air, echoing in the nothingness.

Hard, hot, now wet.

Up, down, hitting the back of your throat, unable to choke in the adrenaline of lust, in need, in desire for pain, rubbing your tongue all over as Yoongi face-fucked you hard and fast, thick cock swelling in your mouth, your lips grazing the swollen head and making him shudder, saliva slipping down your chin that was smacking into his balls.

Was it shameful that you were good at it?

Sex solved nothing but you sure had a lot of it as if it did.

A sharp gasp and salty cum filled your throat, drinking, swallowing with effort and the burning sensation of your locked jaw, maintaining the soft tightness. Tongue tracing the contours, keeping him hard, hearing the rip of a foil packet above your head.

You hadn’t even realized that Yoongi had let go of your hair, letting you lick him all over at your own pace.

“What position?” Yoongi panted, husky and breathless in the mostly empty bedroom.

Mattress, chair, desk, laptop. Oh, and guitar.

Bodies on the floor.

You didn’t say anything.

You just turned around and slid down, elbows on the bed, knees spread, ass up.

“Alright then.”

You bit your lower lip.

You almost turned your head, almost looked back, just to check, right, just to check he was okay with it, and then strong hands gripped your hips, lifting them, sliding in, condom on and stretching you out right away, his knees pushing your knees apart and forcing you to arch your back for the angle.

No chance to look back.

You gasped, gripping the sheets, blinded by pleasure and the fading resonance of pain.

Hard.

Deep.

You pushing back, deep not deep enough, hitting your preferred depth and letting your eyelids flutter, veins burning with the repeated ecstasy. One of your hands lifted and reached back, squeezing his hand on your hip, and the grip became tighter, fingertips digging in, smacking his hips into your ass, and your body threatened to throw him back, carnal power meeting his every thrust, clenching around his hard length, and you could hear Yoongi growl your name, low and deep and voracious.

Somehow, his name fell from your lips too.

Rough and sinful, no better than an animal.

His nails dug into your back and dragged down, burning lines into your skin.

Your head tipped back and you moaned, a clear, shameless sound that would become familiar to this ceiling. Pooling wildfire, tightening muscles, wasted nectar sticky between joined thighs, surge after shivering surge of orgasmic apex stinging your veins as you barely registered Yoongi’s shudder and blissful groan, feeling the pulse inside you made than hearing the sound.

The rush of blood roaring in your ears was far too loud for you to hear anything.

Your face felt hot, so hot.

Gripping the sheets, twisting them, pulling them off the edge of the bed.

This moment.

Very few things were as intense and exigent as an orgasm. Fleeting, but a violently memorable. Pure nothingness of soaring high. You chased it. Again. And again. And again, your fingers tangled in Yoongi’s dark hair, pulling it over his face but he didn’t look at you anyway, eyes closed and teeth trapping his lower lip, breath trapped in his chest, driving his hips into yours again and again.

You both kept going until the limits were reached.

The darkness willingly swallowed you up.

Min Yoongi always considered himself a rational person, which was precisely why he found himself entangled in the break-up between his former best friend and the only woman he ever considered committing a felony for.

Yeah.

He also didn’t believe in love at first sight.

She was still way too hot for that idiot though.

His eyes could communicate well enough with his dick. The short skirt and exposed thighs didn’t really help either. Still, Yoongi had let it be. Respect was keeping his distance despite racing heartbeat and keeping calm despite shaking hands. He got used to it once the late-night talks about music and wordplay became a regular thing. Sometimes they talked about general life and were surprised on how well they aligned. Still, she never spoke poorly about her then-boyfriend even though there was plenty to talk about.

Scorched earth was their sacred ground.

It was painful to witness.

Yoongi regretted valuing the friendship, mostly because it didn’t mean jack shit at the end of the day. He regretted believing in the elegant, age-old saying.

Bros before hoes.

Tch.

But mostly, Yoongi regretted pretending like nothing was wrong.

He would see the pain in her expression and not say anything. Watch her pack it all away and greet him with warmth that he didn’t deserve because he had a racing heart and shaking hands every time they met. He would watch his former best friend disappear into hotel rooms without explanation and Yoongi knew damn well it wasn’t right, but he kept his mouth shut because he was a coward, something he figured out later.

He could have washed his hands clean of that shitshow, but instead his hands had held her shaking shoulders and watched her struggle not to cry on that cold night.

Yoongi considered himself a rational person, but never a good one.

Too many ways to judge, and her lips had already connected with his as soon as his shoulder blades hit the wall. He didn’t stop it. Maybe it was bitterness. Vengeance. Hate.

No, it wasn’t any of that, actually.

He didn’t know exactly what but, in that moment, Yoongi knew that he would murder that asshole if he saw his former best friend’s face right then, ready to commit a felony all because those beautiful eyes couldn’t look at him, closing instead to blink back the tears that bastard didn’t deserve.

That meant something, all right.

He knew it could take a long time. He knew it would almost certainly be hopeless. He knew he would probably end up with a broken heart and broke as hell. He knew it was a bad idea and he knew it was going to tear him up, this spiral, but when he found himself looking up to the ceilings of these mostly empty rooms, this condo he now half-owed with the woman that was formerly his best friend’s girlfriend, and Yoongi found he didn’t know and he didn’t care what the future held.

She had trouble sleeping.

Less trouble after exhausting themselves.

He had trouble sleeping too, but that was because he was staring at the ceiling and wondering just how rational he really was. One hand behind his head, under the pillow. The other resting on the blanket, on the curve of her hip, feeling the steady hum of her breathing.

She never cried in front of him.

He knew she did cry, because he heard her in the bathroom sometimes. But never in front of him. Showed anger, yes, but never acted helpless even though it was perfectly reasonable to feel that way after everything that happened. Living on the least for his sake, even to the point of skipping meals and spending all her time trying to write, trying to get back to her livelihood, trying to get past all the false starts. Personally, Yoongi felt that she should give up for now and heal herself, but he also knew how it felt to feel stubborn and useless.

Hah.

It was weird, being so close and yet so far away.

He felt it most in the nighttime, even though that was when he was closest to her.

He was never going to be the same. He knew that. He already wasn’t, surprising himself with his own recklessness, and for what? He didn’t even know what she was capable of reciprocating after receiving all those scars. Didn’t even know if he was the right one, if he was better or worse, if…

If he was believing in something that wasn’t there.

Yoongi closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Livid.

It was weird. Feeling it. In the past, you buried it, numb, and promptly lived in delusion. But now you could feel it. What was more, you let yourself feel it. There wasn’t anything to stop you except for the occasional mental peanut gallery of you’re a bad person if you feel jealousy, but anger could overtake anything if you let it.

You stared at the scene before you, several meters away.

Seething.

It felt good.

Mostly because it was honest.

It surprised you. You hadn’t expected to feel anything. Sad, maybe. You had already been cheated on, so naturally you assumed the cycle would begin anew, just with less promises and in the gray area of uncertainty. But, no, instead of being distraught and delusional, you felt maddeningly, viciously, nearly on-the-edge of making a fist and dislocating Min Yoongi’s jaw from his skull because he was speaking to a female-presenting human at the entrance of the building that housed his and others’ music studios.

Did you lack context? Yes.

Would that get you arrested? Yeah, probably.

Would that probably not get your laid anymore and label you as an unhinged psychopath? Without a doubt.

But would it feel good?

Don’t know.

You had never punched someone before, although maybe you should have practiced on your ex-boyfriend. He was probably a more deserving candidate. In any case, you remained frozen in perplexation at your willingness for violence because you were pretty sure your… relations… with Yoongi were nothing more than a lonely bitch and a spiteful silver tongue executing revenge, so the amount of fucks you should give about Yoongi speaking to any human being – other than the obvious health and safety precautions – should be zero.

None.

Basket of fucks empty.

And yet.

Clearly wasn’t since you were mentally calculating the angle and force for jaw dislocation while having zero experience in doing so. In any sort of non-virtual manner, that is.

Hm.

Your hands were firmly in the pockets of your black cargo pants. The hip ones, although you had plenty of choice. You kept them there for the safety of passerby or, maybe deep down, yourself. This caused your jacket to fall open, the outlines of the sew-on patches and thick, bunched-up black denim crowding the space between your forearm and waist, your black cropped tank exposed to the chill evening air. You used to wear a plethora of band t-shirts, but, well, those were probably in a landfill or rotting in a secondhand shop.

You figured you would be cold. Unsurprisingly, the anger kept you warm.

Huh.

You thought about turning around and just straight up leaving, petty and picturesque of course, and then Yoongi seemed to sense your projected violence, looking up from the conversation. Dark waves over his cheeks, striking body line, backing away, hiding his eyes for a moment, not that you could see them that well from this distance. You twitched.

The girl reached out.

Yoongi simply bowed, out of reach, and pushed the glass door open.

Honestly, her role in this moment was so miniscule that you completely ignored whatever she did or possibly could have said to Yoongi’s retreating back. Sharpened gaze, and then he crossed the street with the crowd, walking past oblivious bystanders who may or may not become the harrowed audience of the next thirty seconds.

He stopped before you. Bomber jacket, white shirt, black track pants. Monochrome elegance.

You looked up at him, saying nothing.

Over one shoulder was his usual guitar bag that held said instrument and his yellow notepad sticking out of the pocket. He used it to jot down whatever came to him. You almost said something. Almost. Then you remembered that if this, this between you and Min Yoongi, if this was supposed to be nothing, then weren’t you supposed to do nothing but voice your casual annoyance for making you wait rather than, well.

Admit insecurity?

You looked away quickly.

No, it did not matter how reasonable it was, you didn’t like knowing that somehow you had been weakened by an ex-boyfriend, barely a man, no, a mere locust at best, so it was better to not say anything and accept that this was–

“Sorry, I got caught up with the staff about ending my lease.”

Compromised.

You didn’t look at him. “What?”

“Gonna end my lease this month and move my studio stuff to the condo. I can’t afford both.”

He had told you this already. It had been your idea. You already knew you were overreacting to a situation that you created in your head rather than reality. And, yet, the best your mind would allow was uh huh, a plausible explanation, sarcasm included.

“Ah. Right,” was your sharp, mildly frigid reply.

“I can’t read your mind.”

Do you intend to be exhausting?

Your mental peanut gallery was super annoying.

You breathed in. Cool, crisp air. The sound of cars and people bustling in and out of stores. You breathed in again. Did you really intend to be exhausting, irrational, and, worst of all, dishonest? Really, after all that had happened? After getting here, standing here, arriving to pick up Yoongi at his request to do the grocery shopping together?

You turned back to look right into black-brown, piercing orbs.

“I just realized that I have the ability to be jealous,” you exhaled, draining your lungs. “It’s unpleasant and not nearly as delightfully pivotal as the media makes it out to be.”

Something fluttered in those orbs.

Or maybe it was the wind catching his bangs, drifting black strands over his eyes shadowed by dark circles.

Yoongi half-smiled.

“Makes for good songwriting material though.”

There was an air of helplessness to his words. A tone you couldn’t define, except for the understanding, which left you both baffled and with a sense of guilt. There were emotions in that barely-there smirk on those familiar lips. Relief. Maybe a slight bit of shame. A shadow of guilt too. You realized people were glancing at you and him as they walked past, wondering why you both were at a standstill on the sidewalk. Yoongi seemed to not notice them or care.

You pulled your hands out of your pockets.

“Come on. We should go before it gets dark.”

Before you noticed it, your hand was rising.

You pulled it back, but not fast enough.

Yoongi’s free hand reached out and grasped around yours, strong fingers enclosing. Sliding up, calluses on your palm. Your hand lowered, slowly, your eyes moving in the opposite direction. Lips parting. His hand was colder than yours.

You stared at Yoongi.

He looked back, expression unreadable.

“I don’t hold hands,” you said, suddenly breathless.

You tightened your grip.

“Neither do I,” Yoongi replied, taking a step, on the cusp of walking past you, his hand around yours. “I simply just don’t like the idea of yours getting cold when I can do something about it.”

Previously, when you held hands, it was always with a purpose of showing public affection. The look-how-real-this-is-because-there-are-clear-witnesses show. Front row tickets nobody asked for. But this.

This.

You blinked hard and the sting was inside.

The sting of wasted time.

Your name in that raspy, soft voice. Familiar. You looked up, not saying anything and hoping the eye contact was enough. All Yoongi did was smile lightly and tug your hand.

“Let’s get take-out and shop tomorrow. We have plenty of time to eat healthier.”

“You can cry in front of me.”

Min Yoongi heard her breath hitch and still.

Seconds that felt like hours ticked by. It was the dead of night. Or maybe one could call it the time when honesty came to life, if the conditions were right. He knew this time well usually with a drink in his hand, but this time he was laying on his side with bruises of bites and carnal memories lingering on his fingertips.

“I wasn’t crying.”

Her voice was thick and strained from trying to keep it even. Her moment of jealousy had happened days ago. He had recognized it right away. Call it personal experience. He also recognized that she didn’t like to feel that way. It was obvious from her torn yet furious expression. It confirmed a lot of things for him. Still, she seemed pleased to help him move and set up his things in the bedroom. They found the living room to be a bit too echoey due to the large space so they switched the two, pulling the mattress to the living room and setting up his equipment in the center of what was formerly the bedroom.

He told her to paint the condo.

She had mentioned in passing that someday she would like to paint her entire living space black. Not this place, because he owned it too, and you probably think I’m crazy for wanting a dark space, huh, Yoongi? He asked her, why wait? No one lives forever. We’re just passing through.

She had given him a weird look.

We own this condo. Paint it.

There were cans of black paint waiting.

Yoongi had intended to go visit his family over the weekend. His parents and his brother who had recently been promoted to head chef at the classy restaurant he worked at. Someone in the family needed to have prestige. Well, that was his own personal feeling. Surprisingly at this point his parents had even up on telling him to get a higher-paying job. They told him to simply be happy.

And get married.

Yeah, about that.

He was still trying to get used to the music producer thing, for fuck’s sake.

“Are you afraid I won’t understand?” Yoongi let himself say, not turning around yet.

Sometimes, people didn’t want you to see them weak. He could understand that.

Call it personal experience.

A shuddering sigh. Deep breaths. Words bogged down, drained.

“I can only be so pathetic before I lose my mind recalling the past,” she mumbled. He felt her weight deepen on her side of the bed, as if she was trying to melt into the mattress. “I made things hard for myself. For you. It’s pointless to cry about it anyway. In the end, it only makes me look ungrateful.”

Yoongi thought about it.

“It’s true that you probably shouldn’t have involved me.”

He shifted, laying on his back now.

“But I’m not a good person either. I agreed, after all,” he murmured, his skin tingling with bruises and carnal memories. “Hm, to be honest, he was always a dick though, from high school till now. Always will be, I fear.”

“You’re easygoing enough not to be affected by his asshole behavior.”

“Not my job to change people. I leave that to parents and clueless fools.”

A pensive silence. Surprisingly not an irritated one. She seemed to accept it.

“Why did you become his friend?” she asked, staring at the ceiling with him.

“We just happened to like the same thing. Music.”

“I’m lucky you decided to become his friend.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “I’m lucky that somehow he managed to bamboozle a hot and clever girl, two things he’s obviously not.”

She almost laughed. Almost.

“Who the fuck uses the word bamboozle?”

“You had to admit you were bamboozled, because you sure as hell weren’t dick-drunk.”

“Oh? You think you’re that good, huh?”

“No, I just know he’s that much worse.”

The faintest of chuckles.

“You… You get better every time,” she admitted. “I think I just caught you off guard the first time.”

“Firstly, I don’t like wasting time and, secondly, I had given up for a while before…” I met you. “Romance seemed like an expensive, worthless distraction when I could be using that time and money trying to push the band forward,” he pivoted, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “Then that went to shit.”

“Sorry.”

Automatic.

He chuckled darkly. “I’m confident I got the better deal.”

A trembling pause.

“Why do you think that?”

He reached over and placed his palm on the top of her head, lacing his fingers in her hair. Messing it up.

“Tell me the truth. Was he good at sex?”

A burst of laughter. “Really? Alright. No, he wasn’t. He sucked. Thought he was a piston of a muscle car instead of a human being. Oh, and once he fell asleep on top of me.”

He cocked an eyebrow. Turned his head and forced hers to turn as well.

She was smiling.

Yoongi found his chest tight and breath shallow.

“And you didn’t leave him then… why?” he pressed.

She winced, albeit playfully. “I yelled at him. A lot. I don’t know, maybe he was tired.”

“Not an excuse.”

“I know, I know…” Sigh. “I… I didn’t want to believe I made the wrong choice.” Her eyes shifted, but her body was still turned to face his. “I… It made my entire family angry, dating him. Especially my parents. They would never forgive me and hold it over my head forever. I had to make it work. I thought, if only I worked hard enough…” Another heavy breath, squeezing her eyes tightly. “I know it was pride, but I wanted to prove to them and myself that I could do anything. Bad choices? Maybe. But they were mine. I don’t want my life decided by what is best for me. If I suffer for it, those are my consequences.”

Her eyes opened, but barely.

Yoongi kept his hand on her head, running his fingers through her hair.

“I… I feel like shit because now you’re stuck in my mistakes,” she breathed.

He liked to touch her hair. It felt comforting.

“You know what your problem is?”

She glared under lashes and dared him.

Undeterred, he continued. “You blame yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened.”

A disapproving frown. “Hah?”

He tapped her forehead. “You think it’ll bother me if you cry, but what truly bothers me is that you cry alone.” Pushed back the strands, and now he was closer, sharing breath. “You think I’m stuck in your mistakes. Mistakes don’t inherently have only negative consequences. They almost always exist in a gray area.”

“I... I know that,” she grumbled, face against his chest.

“I did say you were clever.”

A drifting, drowsy silence.

“I’m not clever,” she whispered to his skin, pulling her body closer. “I just like you.”

Yoongi felt himself losing to sleep.

“I’ve always liked you, since the moment I saw you,” he muttered into her hair, breathing in the familiar scent, so quietly that he wasn’t sure if he said it at all.

“Ah? Yes? Sorry about that. Oh, yes, uh, I’m painting. Everything. Yes, I’ll be sure the keep the windows open. Thank you.”

You closed the front door of the condo. Well. You had expected nervousness, but somehow the conversation between you and the downstairs neighbor had been very calm. Apparently, he worked from home and wasn’t expecting the loud crash of the ladder from your unit.

In your defense, you hadn’t expected it either.

Thankfully, you hadn’t been on the ladder, only trying to figure out how to set it up. It was one of those compact ones that saved space but required some innovative thinking to get the taller height you needed. One crash and a YouTube video later, the ladder was now secure, and then came the knock on the front door.

The thoughts flew by – I don’t belong here, I can’t do this alone, they’re going to scold me and I haven’t even done the upper half yet – but the guy just seemed curious and confused. Didn’t even comment on your awkward outfit of navy boys’ basketball shorts and ill-fitted gray sports bra. Both on super sale. You were still wearing your bra because of the incorrect size, so the gray blob was bordering on ugly-ass tank top.

Look.

Some people had clothing they didn’t care about to paint in and some people had to dive in sale bins because they left behind most of their wardrobe and, with the clothes, their bad memories.

That was the intent.

Things rarely go as intended.

For instance, you thought you were going to feel imposter syndrome for a neighbor knowing that you were painting your own goddamn walls. You turned away from the door after you locked it, frowning. That’s right. Like it or not, bad decisions and minus an ex-boyfriend later, these were your walls. You looked up, out the large, floor-to-ceiling living room windows, and saw the sunlight sparkle over the sprawling city, walls painted half-black and half white surrounding you, and you could say that you never wanted to be here, but.

It was a sick view.

We own this condo. Paint it.

Your muscles were sore from the repeated swiping motion of the paint roller, but there was still this inexplicable energy coursing through you.

“What if it doesn’t look good?” you had asked Yoongi.

He had shrugged. “Then we paint it again.”

“It’ll be dark.”

“Wow, really? I thought black was supposed to be bright and cheerful,” was the sarcastic quip. “Just believe you have good taste and paint the damn walls.”

This condo was an investment that made you poor.

That was the truth you needed to face.

You have good taste.

You scrunched your face slightly as you remembered Yoongi’s facial expression. Was he… praising you or himself? You squinted. This guy. Picked up the paint roller again and saturated it with ink black, making crispy crinkly sounds as you shuffled over the plastic. Good taste. Well, that was relative, wasn’t it? Everything was at the end of the day. You climbed onto the ladder and began the repetitive, monotone motion once more but at a higher elevation. You should have put your music back on. Your phone was on the plastic-covered mattress and you were not about to go back down until you finished this section or ran out of paint. This was going to be a long process, but you had several days and too much time as Yoongi had already left to visit his family.

Now you were alone with a lot of paint and mind-numbing fumes.

Shit, you should have opened the window.

You would have to paint a second coat anyway. Who cared if the first coat was shitty?

Sigh.

Climbing down and doing your due diligence before returning to your post.

You had forgotten once again to put your music back on. Hah. Well, that was fine; you had yourself. You didn’t mind being alone. Heh, sometimes it was better to be alone. You continued rolling away, hardworking in the consistent rhythm. Thinking about it now, this might have been the first time in a long time that you were okay with being alone. Before, you had felt guilty whenever you weren’t thinking about your relationship. Huh. Odd. Was it some kind of mental self-reassurance when you knew something was off? It was hard to tell, but possible.

Everything was off about that relationship. You just had too much pride to admit it.

You sighed, climbing back down to reload.

Wait a second. Was this why there was that wider step towards the top of the ladder? You poured some more paint in the tray and carried it up with you. Oh shit. Wow. Innovation. You coughed and went back to a different patch of wall. No one saw that. See, perks of being alone.

Well, you didn’t hate Yoongi being here.

You stopped painting.

You didn’t just think that.

You went back to painting. Shut up, nagging feeling. You furiously painted on, ignoring your soreness, telling that little voice in your head to shut up, because there were plenty of reasons not to think stuff like that. Firstly, you weren’t ready to think stuff like that. And what if it was only hopeful transference rather than genuine feeling? Asshole or not, your ex-boyfriend’s betrayal of trust was not something so easily overcome. It wasn’t fair to Yoongi either, pretending to like him if you weren’t sure.

You liked Yoongi before you broke up, too.

Wasn’t that fucked up?

You sighed and came back down, careful to scoot the ladder without spilling and causing a mess. Back up and at it. Of course, it was fucked up. And you knew it was, which might have been why you let it get that bad. Might? Was why you let it get that bad. Two hypocrites were meant for each other. You huffed, puffing your cheeks. It wasn’t enough to hold the ticking grenade; you had needed confirmation it was a, in fact, a bomb.

Maybe even hoping it would end you.

It didn’t.

For some reason, you thought Yoongi could see that in you.

Damn, he’s really living in your system, hm?

You frowned.

Your phone rang.

You almost jumped, startled at the sudden sound of an old song you used to enjoy. Back when you were a teenager, and the memories came back as you climbed down. A kid who just really liked rock’n’roll, and parents who did not, but that kid didn’t care, annoyingly setting it as her ringtone on her shitty flip phone. Couldn’t you be her again? Before you had time to ponder, you checked your hands for paint and picked up your phone, answering it.

“Hello?”

“Did you eat?”

You blinked, sitting down on the crinkly plastic upon hearing that deep, raspy voice. “Uh, no. I was gonna stop by the convenience store when the first coat was done.”

“No, you weren’t. You were gonna skip a meal,” Min Yoongi tutted. “Because you don’t want to be a nuisance and use the money I had left you.”

Damn. He knew you, all right.

“If I forget, I forget,” you grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, pick up the food order from the front desk when it comes. They told me about thirty minutes.”

“You don’t have to order food for me. I’m not a kid,” you hissed.

“It’s the pho spot you like and if I don’t put food in front of you, you won’t eat. You intend to do all that hard work without some fuel?” A pause. You made a disapproving noise. “And I know you’re not a kid. By the way, what’s your waist measurement?”

You remained a grump. “Why?”

“I’m here, so I’m going to buy you some clothes.”

“Don’t buy me clothes. Don’t spend money–”

“You need things,” Yoongi cut you off. “Unless you want to come with me? You don’t trust me?”

“That’s not it and you know it,” you snapped back. “It’s not worth–”

“Of course, it isn’t. It’s vain and silly and superficial. And I’m still going to buy you things, so tell me your waist measurement.”

“Yoongi, this is your hard-earned money,” you puffed out, exasperated.

“Yeah, and I make money to provide you with a good life because I think you are the most important person to me. So, do you want me to guess with my hands or are you going to meet me halfway?”

Dead silence.

He called your name, softly.

You told him in centimeters.

“Got it. Don’t forget to check the front desk in thirty minutes.”

“I love you.”

His hair was stuck to his face due to sweat. “What?”

“I said I love you,” she said, staring right at him, their chests shuddering from exertion.

Yoongi couldn’t believe it, but also he wasn’t surprised. The room still smelled faintly like paint. The windows still had no curtains or blinds. They were still fucking on the mattress in the center of the living room and he was holding the used condom when she said I love you.

The walls and ceiling were all black, covering them in darkness as the city below glimmered with light.

“I love you,” was his reply.

It startled him, the suddenness of his response. He knew he did. Of course, he did, and he turned away quickly, making his way to the kitchen and throwing away the condom, skin tingling, cheeks aflame, and he was startled by the feeling that remained. He hadn’t expected those words to come out of her mouth even though he was sure of his own feelings. Yoongi had resigned himself to not hear it from her lips. He also didn’t need to hear it to know that it was true.

He saw her head to the bathroom.

Time was funny sometimes.

Suddenly they were both staring at each other on the mattress, the usual ritual completed, and the moment suspended.

“You didn’t have to say it,” he finally said. “For my sake.”

“I didn’t.” Her hair curled over her shoulder, caressing her curves. “I said it for my sake.”

Blankets and pillows and questions.

“I wondered about the validity of it,” she admitted to him. “Been wrong before and all that. Might still be wrong. So, I said it just to see if I regretted it.”

“Ah.”

They stared into each other’s eyes.

“Do you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

He half-smiled. How very simple yet complicated. He understood. “All the paint fumes really got to your head, huh?”

She looked up at him and he realized with a start that she, too, was half-smiling.

He reached out, smoothing her hair.

“You have a pretty face, Yoongi,” she teased, eyes sparkling.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I thought it would be too cliché, you and me,” she continued and the tone was different now, softer and more serious. “I thought you would get tired.”

She meant, of me.

He had thought this was cliché too. Cliché didn’t mean worthless though. His hand fell, and rested over hers without a second thought. Warm and against the sheets. “If I felt that way, I would have stopped speaking to you long ago. You could take care of yourself too.” Not safely, but could. “Except for money.”

She smirked.

“So you’re saying I need a suga daddy.”

Yoongi twitched.

“Part of me wanted to sell the condo as soon as possible,” she went on, casually glossing over the comment. “But the realtor said it would be a bad idea. I wouldn’t have any buyers without a minimum of six months or a year. Too many superstitions. Part of me thought I should…”

She looked up to the ceiling.

It was a high-rise, after all.

“All the reasons to move here were his. More convenient, better opportunities, owning rather than renting for the investment… I believed in it, more than myself.”

He didn’t say anything. Couldn’t because all those things had benefitted him already. He didn’t only agree to move in help her out. He was still a working music producer. But she didn’t seem to be saying it to condone him.

“I didn’t really think this place was mine until I painted the walls.”

Yoongi thought he should at least confess this part. “That’s why I told you to paint them.”

A small laugh. “You don’t like it, huh?”

“Don’t you remember the walls of the old studio were dark gray? That was my doing. I always resented the last place I rented because they didn’t let me paint the walls.”

“Ah… He painted over the gray.”

“I bet he did.”

They had fallen to the bed now, side by side.

“I didn’t think this would work out,” she breathed.

“I thought it might,” he hummed.

“Why?”

“You’re hot and clever and I wanted you from the first day I saw you.”

A warm chuckle. “Just like that?”

“Well, you had to give me a chance. Couldn’t make the first move due to the circumstances.”

“It was a convoluted and confusing one.”

“Eh, life’s unfair.”

“Your husband already paid.”

Your what?

“What?”

The cashier waved you away. You shuffled back, dazed, seeing Min Yoongi emerge from the bathroom in the corner of the restaurant, tucking a bit of his long black hair behind his ears and finding you in front of him.

“The cashier just called you my husband,” you declared.

He shrugged.

“Surprise.”

You blinked at him.

Patrons chatted and laughed as if this was a normal day. The music was horrendous covers of cheesy 2000’s pop. It was very strange, but the pho was good and well-priced, which was why Yoongi and you came here often after his meetings with music companies. Popular talent was in high demand.

He ticked his head to your outfit. “I know you like this dress I bought you, but you’ve left your coat at the table.”

“Oh, shit.”

“You’ve been scatterbrained ever since you started writing again.”

“Shut up.”

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts smut #yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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misc-obeyme · 2 months

Note

DID BEELSCUSTARD GOT TERMINATED WHY

Okay I saw about this when I checked Tumblr this morning before work. Normally I don’t post during work hours (thanks to the queue), but I couldn’t stop thinking about this & I think it’s important for people to know.

beelscustard & I think a few other blogs that did image editing were terminated due to copyright laws.

I don’t know enough about these laws to speak on it & presumably they’re going by the laws in Japan. I was always under the impression that as long as no money is being made from it, fanworks of all kinds are permissible. But that may not be the case for Japanese laws & there may be some ambiguity when it comes to editing of images from game content.

That being said, I think this is a really shitty move.

The fandom has been lagging already & now they’re going to come in & hurt their own fans by not only deleting years worth of dedicated work but depriving other fans of that work as well? This is something that will only hurt them, not help them.

They have continually made some upsetting decisions, but this really takes the cake in my opinion.

I don’t know if they’re planning on doing anything else like this. My understanding is that it has to do with data mining & image editing, but that doesn’t mean they won’t come for other fanworks as well. I’m not telling anybody to panic about it, but just make sure you’ve got your stuff somewhere. There’s a way to backup Tumblr blogs I think. I’ll see if I can find the post about it after I get off work & then I’ll reblog it.

As fans, all we can do is support each other. It sucks, but this game exists to make money. That’s always going to be their priority. We get to decide for each of us as individuals how much money we’re willing to give to support the underlings who are working on the game that actually care about the content they create.

I don’t think it’s likely that they would crack down on fanfiction blogs, but I have posted plenty of screenshots. So if you’re worried about losing me, you can go follow me on my main blog @misc-magic if you would like to. It might not matter but I’m not sure how serious they’re going to get with this.

I’m sorry to use your ask as a more general announcement, Kian. I know you already follow my main 💕 but hopefully this also answers similar questions for others as well.

If I see anything else that I can share I’ll keep you all updated.

#everything was fine until they started the new app #now they keep doing stupid shit #I kinda wish we could go back to that time sigh #obey me #obey me nightbringer #expressionless-fr #cc mutuals #misc answers

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 9 months

Note

hi derin! i’ve been following you for a little while, and also bemoaning the nature of publishing fiction (indie or trad) for a little bit longer than that, and i only just realized today that…of course web serials are a thing i can also do!

i really love the idea of publishing serially (though i’m not totally sure i CAN, i’d like to try), so while i add this to my list of potential paths, do you have any advice for getting started? building an audience? marketing? figuring out if writing/publishing this way will work for you to begin with?

i know that’s a lot of questions, and you don’t have to answer all of them! i’m throwing spaghetti at a wall out here. i hope you have a good day though, and thanks in advance!

Getting started in web serial writing

Web serial writing has the lowest barrier of entry of any major method of publishing your story. You can literally just start. There are two steps:

start writing your story

decide how/where you want to publish it

The writing part, I assume you have handled. The important thing to note here is that you gotta see the project through. Start and don't stop until you're done. For publishing, you have a few options:

1. Publish on a website designed for web serial novels

There are a few of these around, they're usually free to publish on (although most offer a paid account to give you ad space or boost you int he algorithm or whatever), and your best choice generally depends on which one happens to gravitate to a niche that best suits your kind of work. The big names in this industry are Royal Road and Scribblehub, which, last I checked up on them (about a year ago) tended towards isekai and light erotica respectively. (You absolutely can publish outside these niches on these sites, it's just much harder to get traction.) Publishing somewhere like this comes with multiple advantages. Firstly, there's a writing community right there to talk to; there's usually a forum or something where people gather to talk about reading or writing on the site. Second, the site itself is designed specifically to publish web serials, and will come with a good layout and hit trackers and 'where you left off' buttons for the reader and all that; generally all you have to do is copy-paste the text of a chapter into the page and the site will do everything else for you. Third, there's an audience sitting right there, browsing the 'latest arrivals' or 'most popular' page of the site; if you can get high in the algorithm, you have to do little if any marketing.

The downsides of such places usually come down to the same things as the advantages. Such sites are a flooded market. Your story absolutely will drown in a sea of other stories, a great many of them terrible, and most of them with the advantage of catering to the site's niche. Gaining an audience there is often a matter of trying to game an algorithm, and the community can be... variable. Some of these places are nice but most of them are a bunch of authors trying to tear down everyone around them to make their own work look better by comparison int he hopes of poaching audiences for their story instead. If you go this route, I'd recommend shopping around for a site that fits you personality and writing style (or just posting on many sites at once; you can also do that).

These places also tend to get targeted by scrapers who will steal your story and sell it as an ebook, which is very annoying.

2. publish on another site

Plenty of people publish web serials here on Tumblr. I do not know why. This site is TERRIBLY set up for that. It makes tracking stories and updates a pain in the arse (people end up having to *manually tag every reader whenever they post an update*), building and maintaining archives are annoying, community building is surprisingly difficult for a social media site, and it's just generally far more work for both writer and reader than it needs to be. You often do have a ready-made audience, though.

This does tend to work better on other sites. Reddit has multiple communities for reading and writing various types of fiction; publishing on these is a bit more work than somewhere like Royal Road, but not very much, and many of these communities are very active. There aren't as many forums around as there used to be, but you might be able to find fiction hosting forums, if that's what you prefer. And of course, many writers who simply want to write and don't mind not being paid choose to write on AO3.

These sites are a good middle ground compromise for people who want a ready-made community and don't mind putting in a bit of extra work.

3. make your own site

This is what I did. You can make a website for free, giving people a hub to find you and all your work, designed however you like. You can also pay for a website if you want it to be a little bit nicer. This option is the most work, but gives you the most control and leaves you free of having to worry about any algorithm.

The obvious downside of this is that there's no community there. If you host your work on your own website, you need to bring people to it. You need to build an audience on your own. This is not an easy thing to do.

Building an audience (general advice)

Here is some general advice about building an audience:

1. Consistency. Consistency. Consistency.

If you want people to read your writing, the best piece of advice I can possibly give you is have an update schedule and update on time, always. If you need to take a break, give people as much warning as possible and tell them exactly when you will be back, and come back then. Do not take unnecessary breaks because you don't feel like writing. (Do take breaks if you get carpal tunnel or need time off for a major life event or something -- your health is more important than the story.) If you're taking a lot of breaks to avoid burnout, you're doing it wrong -- you need to rework your whole schedule from the start and slow down updates to make these breaks unnecessary. Two chapters a month with no breaks is a billion times better than four chapters a month with frequent burnout breaks.

Consistency. Consistency. Consistency.

A reliable schedule is the #1 factor in audience retention. If readers need to randomly check in or wait for notifications from you to check if there's an update, guess what? Most of them won't! They'll read something else. You want your audience to be able to anticipate each release and fit it in their own schedule. I cannot overstate the importance of this.

2. If you can, try to make your story good.

We writers would love to live in a world where this is the most important thing, but it actually isn't. Plenty of people out there are perfectly happy to read hot garbage. How do I define 'hot garbage'? It doesn't matter. Think of what you would consider to be just a terrible, no-effort, pointless garbage story that the world would be better off without. Someone is out there writing that right now, making US$2,500/month on Patreon.

It is, however, a real advantage if you can make your story good. At the very least, it should be worth your audience's time. Preferably, it should also be worth their money, and make them enthusiastic enough to try to get their friends into it. Managing this is massively advantageous.

3. Accept that you're not going to get a big audience for a really long time. Write consistently and update on schedule every time anyway.

It took me over a year to get my second patron. For the first year, I updated Curse Words every single week, on schedule, for over a year, and had maybe... four readers. One of them was a regular commenter. One of them was my first patron. There was no one else.

My audience has grown pretty rapidly, for this industry.

You're not gonna start publishing chapters for a big, vibrant community. You're just not. And you have to keep going anyway. These days, I have a pretty good readership, and those couple of loyal readers (who I appreciate beyond words) have grown into a much larger community, who hang out and debate theories with each other and liveblog and drag in new readers and make fanart. My discord has over 550 members, with volunteer moderators and regular fan artists and its own little in-jokes and games and readers who make a point of welcoming newcomers and helping them navigate the discord, all with very little input from me. I start crying when I think about these people, who do the bulk of my social and marketing work for me just because they want to help, and my patrons who, after writing for over 4.5 years, have recently helped me pass an important threshold -- my web serial (via patreon) now pays my mortgage repayments. I can't live off my writing alone, but boy is that a massive fucking step.

You're not gonna have that when you start. You're gonna have a couple of friends. And that's it. Maybe for a year. Maybe less, if you're good at marketing and lucky. Maybe longer.

You have to update on schedule, every time, anyway.

Building an audience (more specific advice)

"Yeah, that's great, Derin, but where can I find my fucking audience?" Well, if you publish on a web serial site, then the audience is there and you jsut need to grab their affention using the tools and social norms offered to you by the site. I utterly failed at this and cannot help you there. You can still use these other tips to bring in readers from off-site.

1. Paid ads

I've never paid for ads so I can't offer advice on how to do it. I've Blazed a couple of posts on Tumblr; they weren't helpful. This is, however, an option for you.

2. Actually tell people that your story exists and where they can find it.

I used to have a lot of trouble with this. I didn't want to bother people on Tumblr and soforth by telling them about my personal project. Unfortunately you kind of have to just get over that. Now I figure that if people don't want TTOU spam, they can just unfollow me. If you're like me and want to just politely keep your story to yourself... don't. You're shooting yourself in the foot doing that.

You need to mention your story. Link your story in your bio on whatever social media sites you use. Put it in your banner on forums. Make posts and memes about it. Eventually, if you're lucky, extremely valuable readers will start to talk about your story and meme and fanart it for you, but first, you need to let them know it exists.

It will always feel weird to do this. Just accept that people can unfollow you if they want, and do it anyway.

3. Leverage existing audiences and communities

Before I started doing this web serial thing, I used to write a lot of fanfic. The original audience that trickled in for Curse Words comes from AO3, where I was doing a full series rationalist rewrite of Animorphs. They knew how I wrote and wanted more of it. Nowadays, I still occasionally pull in readers through this route. Most of my new readers these days come from a different community -- people who follow me on Tumblr. Occasionally I bring in people who don't follow me because we'll be talking about how one of my stories relates to something different, and fans of that thing might decide they want to check my stories out.

Your first readers will come from communities that you're already in and that are already interested in something similar to what you're doing (people reading my fanfic on AO3 were already there for my writing, for instance). Keep these people in mind when you start out.

One additional critical source of existing communities is your readers themselves. A huge number of my readers are people I've never been in any group with -- they were pulled in by their friends, relatives, or community members who were reading my stories and wanted them to read them too. This is an absolutely invaluable source of 'advertising' and it is critically important to look after these people. enthusiastic readers, word-of-mouth advertisers, and fan artists are the people who will bring in those outside your immediate bubble.

4. Your "where to find me" hub

If you're publishing on your own website, you can simply link everything else to your homepage, and put all relevant links there. For example, I can link people to derinstories.com , which links out to all my stories, social media I want people to find me on (you don't have to link all your social media), patreon, discord, et cetera. If you don't have your own website, you're going to have to create a hub like this in the bios of every site where you garner audiences from. This is the main advantage of publishing on your own website.

Monetisation

There are a few different kinds of monetisation for web serials, but most of them boil down to 'use a web serial format to market your ebook', which to be honest I find pretty shady. These authors will start a web serial, put in enough to hook an audience for free, and then stop posting and release an ebook, with the intention of making readers pay for the ending. Now, to be clear, I am absolutely not against publishing and selling your web serial -- I'm doing exactly that, with Curse Words. I am against intentionally and knowingly setting up the start of a web serial as a 'demo' without telling your audience that that is what you are doing, soliciting Patreon money for it, and then later yanking it away unfinished and demanding money for the ending.

Monetisation of these sorts of stories is really just monetisation for normal indie publishing with the web serial acting as an ad, and I have no advice for how to do that successfully.

Your options of monetisation for a web serial as a web serial are a bit more limited. They essentially come down to merchandise (including ebooks or print books) or ongoing support (patreon, ko-fi, etc.) Of these, the only one I have experience with is the patreon model.

This model of monetisation involves setting up an account with a regular-donation site such as patreon, providing the base story for free, and providing bonuses to patrons. You can offer all kinds of bonuses for patrons. Many patrons don't actually care what the bonus is, they're donating to support you so that you can keep writing the story, but they still like to receive something. But some patrons do donate specifically for the bonuses, so it's worth choosing them with care.

The most common and most effective bonus for web serials is advance chapters -- if people are giving you money, give them the chapters early. You can also offer various bonus materials, merchandise, or voting rights on decisions you need to make in the future. 'Get your character put in the story' is a popular high-tier reward. If you're looking for reward ideas, you can see the ones I use on my patreon.

Patreon used to offer the ability to set donation goals, where you could offer something when you were making a certain amount total or had a certain number of subscribers. They recently removed this feature because Patreon hates me personally and doesn't want me to be happy, so you kind of have to advertise it yourself now if you want to use these goals. I release chapters of unrelated stories at donation goals, and I found this to be far more effective than I thought it would be.

The important factor for this kind of monetisation is that it's ongoing. The main advantage of this is that it makes your income far more regular and predictable than normal indie publishing -- your pledges will go up or down over a month, but not by nearly as much as book sales can. The main thing to keep in mind is that it's not a one-time sale, which means that however you organise things, you want to make sure that donating keeps on being worth it, month after month. Offering bonuses that aren't just one-time bonuses, but things that the patron can experience every month, helps here. So does making sure that you have a good community where patrons can hang out with other patrons. (Offering advance chapters does both of these things -- the patron can stay ahead in the story and discuss stuff with other patrons that non-patrons haven't seen. I've found that a lot of my patrons enjoy reading an emotionally devastating chapter ahead of time, discussing it, and then all gathering a week or two later to watch the unsuspecting non-patrons experience it for the first time.)

Whatever method you use for monetisation, rule #1 is (in the words of Moist Von Lipwig): always make it easy for people to give you money. The process of finding out how to give you money should be easy, as should the process of actually doing it. And, most importantly, the spender should feel like it's worth it to give you money. This is a big part of making it easy to give you money. Make your story worth it, make your bonuses worth it, make sure that they're happy to be part of your community and that they enjoy reading and supporting you. And remember that support comes in many forms -- the fan artist, the word-of-mouth enthuser, the person who makes your social hub a great place to be, the patron, all of these people are vital components in the life support system that keeps your story going. And you're going to have to find them, give them a story, and build them a community, word by word and brick by brick.

It's a long process.

Good luck.

#web serials #web serial novels #writing #advice

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violeth-r04 · 22 days

Text

Okay this is a ‘little’ PSA and rant to all of Chris and abba’s fans (and yes I know how to actually spell her name, I just thought it was funny to make fun of it bc why not😈) so apparently some of you still think that fans like us, the people who call out bullshit when we see it are the reason as to why Chris is hiding. And I hate to break it to ya, none of us, and when I mean by none of us, I mean none of us had ANYTHING to do with why Chris doesn’t post much, we have nothing to do with why Chris doesn’t want to be around abba (bc let’s face it, I wouldn’t want to be around a racist Nazi and fat shaming person like her herself and that says something) and we are not responsible for the actions they post or do, they do that shit on their own. And I’m so tired of constantly getting blamed for something we most certainly didn’t do, and no none of us are mentally, physically or emotionally ill and we don’t need to go and touch some grass or get out more bc believe me I do that plenty enough with 2 jobs. And what’s even more crazy is the fact that none of you see the toxic shit that is going on between those two, I mean Chris shouldn’t be losing friends, fans, followers, or even family!! And yet alba is gaining (technically buying as I said in my last post) like how do you guys not see that?! And not to mention Chris shouldn’t be losing so much weight due to all of this, I’ve met someone who took their toxic relationship way more seriously than their own mental health! This is not okay! And if some of you think that this fake and toxic relationship is okay and fine, then you clearly have problems and have never been in a healthy relationship ever! This is sickening why don’t you guys get some help fucking ridiculous😒

(Side note: if alba was as sweet and innocent as she claims, maybe she shouldn’t hang out with racist people or retweet racist comments made by her friends. Heck maybe she should have apologized to the cultures she mocked instead of hid like a coward she is. And we all know that Justin gave out some weak ass apology saying ‘I’m sorry but that was like 10+ years ago’ um hello!! That still doesn’t matter, once a racist always a racist never forget that)

And if you agree that this relationship is fake and nothing but PR please comment: AGREED. Thanks and see ya ✌🏻

#chris and alba pr #chris evans shitshow

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redcoralpot · 10 months

Note

hiii! not sure if your requests are open, if so then can you do a TWD Daryl x Walker male reader?

Like Reader followed Daryl & the group & always pops out time to time & Daryl goes to hunt but sees him just watching the walkers eating someone & Daryl sees him making an expiration of descust shocking Dayrl cuz Reader is a walker? Have a great day & take care off uself ^^

Dead Man Walking - Daryl Dixon X Male (Walker) Reader

I had a lot in mind for this request, so I decided to break it into multiple parts/chapters!! <33 If this series gets popular enough, I will post an extended version on AO3. If you have any questions on how the reader’s infection works, don’t be afraid to ask politely! Xoxo

The romance with Daryl will most likely start next chapter! 🫠

Warnings: Blood, violence, implied cheating (Shane + Lori)

Word Count: 1.8K

Your life from before the outbreak didn’t matter anymore, though it wasn’t like you remembered very much of it. Humanity’s civilization had crumbled within a few mere hours, and you had seen the worst of it.

At first, you wandered the streets of the city with plenty of others in your same predicament. That life was lonely, and your comrades never seemed to be good conversationalists. As bad as that was, you couldn’t find it in yourself to blame them. Your mouth felt uncomfortably dry after having no water and a hanging jaw for days. Days! You should be getting paid for this.

That all changed after a man disrupted this slow, daily routine, charging on a horse around the wrong corner. Was this how modern cowboys acted? Seriously, maybe the water deprivation was getting to you after all.

The mob went crazy at the sight, a sudden change from the prior leisurely pace, attacking the poor animal. You could do nothing, even as your stomach lurched, and you decided to focus your attention on the man instead. He was brave to a stupid extent, sliding under a tank as ravenous arms reached for him. The rush forced you forward too quickly as you stumbled over a bag, hitting the ground with a smack.

Everyone else was uncaring, focused solely on the target. You have never seen them from this perspective before, and here, you could see many more bite marks and unhealed injuries. And God, it stunk. You were surprised that anyone could get caught by these people, they could probably smell them before they could even see them! Especially the cowboy under the tank, there, for his age. Would he live, would he die? If you had a partner, you would bet on death.

Fate apparently had different plans for him, as he suddenly popped out of the tank, smacking a nearby infected hard enough to give him room to escape. Damn, you definitely didn’t want to get in his way. He struggled down the sidewalk, shooting to safety in a closed off alleyway. Part of you wanted to curiously follow him, but the smarter end told you to stay.

“C’mon!” A voice shouted from the alley, followed by gunshots.

Your name tag swung as you followed a group of survivors. The man and his savior had joined it after the drama on the street, and you were curious enough to see where they would head next. Apparently, that was a survivor camp, not too far away from the city’s borders. It was here that you learned the man’s name was Rick, and he had family there. It baffled you that he even thought of risking himself like that with a child as young as Carl.

His family seemed to think the same, running towards him and shouting in surprise. From your little spot yards away, you wondered if your family ever made it, and if they missed you just as much.

“Dad!” Carl shouted, and the man himself dropped to his knees to hug him. Was Rick crying?

You felt a little guilty for staring at such a vulnerable moment, so you turned your eyes onto the other members. They were a plenty, diverse group, bigger than any camp you’ve witnessed before. There was one other kid among the survivors, a little girl, other than Carl.

This observation session was quickly shut down, interrupted by a gruff alert, “Walker!”

A what? You?

Whipping your head towards the noise, you came to face a crossbow pointed at your face. Ah.

“I got it.”

Your slow, dead reflexes tried their best as you dived behind a tree, but they weren’t fast enough. An arrow pierced through your shoulder, knocking you off course, and into a bush. Using this as cover, you scampered back farther from the camp, praying that this day wouldn’t be your last.

“Daryl! Just leave it.”

“I ain’t never seen one smart enough to dodge before.”

“Exactly, don’t waste your ammo.”

“Pff, would’a gotten my arrows back anyway.”

The shock from the shot dulled as your head produced a light feeling, making you abandon any thoughts of getting up. You sat there, frozen, as the voices faded away. Well, one of them had been paying attention after all.

You gripped the arrow, ripping it out in a smooth motion, biting down on your shirt. The taste of dirt filled your mouth, and while you’ve done this a number of times, you had never expected to perform it on yourself. Red trickled down your shirt, making the hole even more obvious. This Daryl was a great man, amazing even. If you couldn’t have a bath, or any human interaction, you at least deserved a shirt without stains or holes in it. You didn’t have any spares!

Should you still follow this group? They’re bound to move soon, mobs will start moving out of the city and out among the borders. It was suicide if you did, but you found you didn’t care all that much. The world had ended, you had no family, and nothing to live for. A little fun before you died wouldn’t hurt anyone, you decided.

Your body felt heavy as you pulled yourself into a tree, pressing yourself against the bark and peering through the leaves at the camp. Here, it should be safer. Their threats were all on the ground, only hunting will bring them to look in the trees.

The same gruff voice reached your ears, “And you just left him?”

“We had to, we had no choice.”

“Yeah, well, I’m goin’ back to find him.”

A pause, “I’ll go with you, we can form a rescue group.”

“Fine.”

“I’d like to get my bag back, too; it has supplies.”

Through your cover, you could see Rick choosing different survivors to come with, and you couldn’t help but feel relieved that one of the sharpest was among them. Now that he and his crossbow are gone, albeit temporarily, you feel a weight come off of your shoulders.

Before you could dwindle in that bliss for long, a second group split off, significantly smaller than the other. Just two people, a man and a woman, one you recognized to be the mother of Carl. You shifted, trying to get a better view.

“We can’t do this anymore, Shane,” the woman started, “He’s back now.”

“Rick doesn’t have to know.”

“He’s your best friend, and don’t forget the only reason I did this was because everyone thought he was dead!”

These people were lucky you couldn’t talk.

“Lori—”

“No, we’re ending this.”

Shit. As the woman briskly walked back to the main camp, you could still see Shane hadn’t moved. He grumbled incoherent, resentful sentences, and you felt like a rat. You wanted to scream at Rick about what you just witnessed, snitching the very details of the things his wife and best friend had been doing.

None of the survivors seemed keen on hearing you out, though, so their secret was safe, for now.

You woke up with a start, hissing as you accidentally banged your head on the wood behind you. Sitting up, you heard feet shuffling below you. Not just a pair, however, it must’ve been at least ten. Was it happening already? The rescue group must have led them back to the camp and knew they were coming, surely.

Yelling rang through the camp, snarling and the snapping of teeth almost overpowering it. You could see the fire, shadows of the survivors dancing around it, the moves quick and fearful. An arrow flew, gunshots rang, and you could smell blood. Daryl was back, with the rescue team following close behind.

“What happened here?”

“Walkers, a whole mob of ‘em,” stated a rather stoutly, panting old man.

Rick asked another question, “Is everything alright, was anyone hurt?”

…

“A few, uh, Amy and Ed, Carol’s husband.”

You weren’t familiar with this Amy, but you weren’t fond of Ed. You had caught him trying to hit his wife, a sweet woman, while she was doing the laundry earlier. Really, he deserved this fate, but it must be concerning for Carol. It couldn’t be easy to raise a child alone in this environment.

A silence fell over the group, a moment of mourning for their first losses. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see the fate of the two victims. You knew what would happen, knew it well, as the final shots of the night sounded.

“He was bit,” Daryl growled, and with a click, a gun was pointed at him.

“We don’t kill the living.”

“But you can point a gun at me?”

“You woulda killed him if I didn’t.”

“What’re we gonna do with him, then? Let ‘em turn?”

“We have to leave.”

“There’s nowhere to go, walkers are everywhere!”

“I know a place, it’s a facility in Druid Hills. If anywhere has a cure, it’d be in there.”

Shane made a face, “Are we sure ‘bout this?”

“It’d be protected, a safe place to stay; we can leave in the morning.”

His tone made it sound final, and his best friend looked unconvinced. Daryl gave the bitten man a final, bitter eye, stomping off to brood alone. As much as the two of you were different, you had to agree with him. The man would only suffer and die in a more brutal way, after all. Alas, the only thing you could do was watch.

You watched as the remaining survivors settled into sleep, you watched as Shane grew more agitated, you watched as they packed their things when the sun rose, and you watched them drive away.

A few decided to hang back, to go their own way. Silently, you wished them well with the others, and then you watched them leave too. This is where you deemed it safe, sliding down from the tree to slip back onto the ground. With a stick you snapped off, you started your journey to Druid Hills, the bite mark on your left leg aching.

And who knows? Maybe they could fix this pesky infection.

The signs were still in good shape, and what a blessing they were. You hobbled on, for two days and nights, not catching up to the people of your interest. Halfway through, a familiar face caught your eye, sitting propped under a tree. He gnashed his teeth, eyeing you, clearly not able to get up to reach you. Sighing, you shook your head as you realized what they did.

You raised your stick, finally looking down at him with pity, and drove it through his eye. Blood and body residue dropped off the end as you ripped it back out of the unmoving Jim, and you leaned heavily on it again. No matter how exhausted, you continued on your way, determined to be a normal man again.

End of Chapter One.

#male reader #x male reader #the walking dead #twd #daryl dixon #gay #male y/n #daryl dixon x male reader #daryl dixon x reader #negan smith #rick grimes #lgbtq

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thechaoticplayer · 2 months

Note

that anon wasn’t me but they are absolutely correct and i feel like i should give my two cents worth about all of this among the sea of hate towards the nijisanji livers. i’m not bootlicking the company, but i feel like it’s hypocritical for people to sent hate to the talents after doki said MULTIPLE times not to since she was also a victim of such behavior (and plenty of dragoons no longer even feel safe in her community because of the immense amount of people who are only there to harass and don’t even care for her) this is a rant that just shows that the issue is gray and that we’ll never really know what’s going on as outsiders

tell the remaining members to graduate because their fanbase will follow them is stupid, acting like they didn’t work their asses off to get where they are and haven’t invested so much in their current persona. ike, elira, and vox are some of the most popular talents so that it makes sense for anycolor to force them into making the stream. saying that vox doesn’t care about mental health after his charity stream and saying that it was just for show need to shut up because we’ll never how how he’s really feeling behind the avatar. elira specifically doesn’t deserve the disproportionate amount of hate and disgusting things she received from it from what was essentially revenge porn to art of her being abused, have these people not been taught that if you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all? it costs NOTHING to spam hate on your private account instead.

while i agree that the 2% merch sales and 1/4 (after youtube) of the supas should be raised, that doesn’t mean that the livers aren’t making any money and are poor as several of them have mentioned being able to pay off student loans and have turned their lives around with the money. while it sucks that selen made no profit after investing 200k into projects, maria has mentioned before that covers were more of passion gifts to fans rather than something to make money off of (i DO think that they should be paid for their projects, but that’s just how it goes unfortunately). last cup of coffee was taken down because she didn’t have all of the proper permissions and rushed posting it as a sweet gift to fans, management had full intentions to put it back up.

accusing livers of being bullies based on speculations is idiotic as it just hurts innocent people in the crossfire. these may just look like anime women and men to you, but they are REAL PEOPLE and streaming for nijisanji is their main livelihood! have some empathy, it’s hurting their mental health (the mental health some “dragoons” seem to care about so much)

this goes to say, i am on doki’s side because NO ONE should have to go what she went through, but i just want to show that there are two sides to a coin. i think that nijisanji needs better management, to allow their talents more freedom and a higher percentage of merch sales/supas, and stop treating their livers like shit! stop the harassment and move on, it’s what doki has mentioned multiple times that she wanted! don’t be one of the reasons another liver may have to go what she went through because you have an irrational hate boner for the company

also stream mani / gilty x gilty by maria marionette, finana ryugu, POMU RAINPUFF, meloco kyoran, and kotoka torahime

guys this shit right here

This right here

We need to like post this everywhere bc holy shit people need to understand

You are 100% right!! I agree with everything you just said, esp the "graduate and get out of the company" because they really did bust their asses off to get where they are now and it's a childish way of thinking

#chaotic.text #nijisanji #nijisanji en #vtuber #nijien #Kurosanji #Selen tatsuki #Vox akuma #elira pendora #ike eveland #Black company

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rubyreduji · 2 years

Text

jihoon's puppy - ljh

title: jihoon’s puppy pairing: lee jihoon x gn!reader (side kim mingyu x gn!reader) genre: fluff, angst, college!au warnings: asshole!jihoon, jealous!jihoon, mans is a whole tsundere in this, there is a scene where y/n and mingyu are about to get frisky in a closet and then they talk abt sex but there is nothing explicit at all w.c.: 11.9k summary: jihoon can’t seem to shake the puppy dog who keeps following him around or the teasing he gets for it a/n: first time posting a longer fic like this and its for jihoon ofc. i really like this fic actually so i hope you guys can love it just as much as i do

Jihoon has known you since high school and it seems like ever since you two graduated he hasn’t been able to get rid of you. You ended up at the same college and in most of the same classes because you were both getting your Bachelor of Music. Jihoon was one of the only people you knew in your classes and you would follow him around like a lost puppy as he was the only familiar face you knew. Now two years later it seems you haven’t broken that habit.

“Where’s your dog Jihoon?” Wonwoo snickers as Jihoon sits down at their lunch table.

“Shut up, they’re not my dog,” Jihoon grumbles.

You have a class right now. Jihoon only knows this because on Tuesday and Thursdays, as you guys walk out of your Intro to Music Business class, you say ‘I’m off to my Instrumental Conducting class Hoon-ah, see you later!’ and then leave in the opposite direction that Jihoon goes.

“I prefer cats,” Jun says matter of factly, proving he’s not paying much attention to the conversation.

“When are you going to tell them to leave you alone?” Wonwoo ignores Jun.

“I HAVE! They can’t take the hint!”

“Hey! Be nice to Y/N. They’ve done nothing wrong,” Soonyoung comes to your defense. “You don’t deserve them, Hoonie.”

“If you want them, take them, I’ll gladly hand them off to you,” Jihoon retorts.

“Who are we talking about?” Seungcheol asks as he, Joshua, and Jeonghan pull up chairs.

“Y/N-hubae,” Jun answers. Maybe he is paying attention.

“The one who follows around Jihoon?” Joshua questions. “Why? Are they giving you trouble?”

“They’re always giving me trouble,” Jihoon groans. “They’re annoying. I can’t get them to leave me alone, it’s been like this since freshman year.”

“See if I had someone waiting on me hand and foot I’d take advantage of that,” Jeonghan smirks. “You just have to be an opportunist Jihoonie.”

“You say that now but you haven’t actually had to deal with them. Now can we please talk about something that’s not them.”

“Jihoon!” You jog a bit to meet up to the boy. “Class today was very interesting, but I’m sure you don’t want to hear me rambling about it. How was lunch?”

“It was just lunch.”

“Ah, I suppose so. Well, are you ready for the quiz today?” You guys are walking towards your shared Music Theory II class together.

“Yes.”

“That’s good! I think I’m ready but not completely sure. I understood all of the concepts in class, I’m just afraid I’m going to mess up when put under pressure,” you explain.

Jihoon wishes you would shut up and leave him alone. It’s like this everyday. You talk his ear off and he can’t get a moment of peace until he’s back at his dorm. Jihoon doesn’t understand why you’re so obsessed with him. There are plenty of other people you could cling onto, so how did Jihoon get so unlucky to be the object of your affections.

You speed up your walking a bit so you can open the building door for Jihoon, and then do the same for the classroom door. He doesn’t thank you.

Just like always Jihoon sits down in his seat and you take the one next to him. You wish him luck before the quiz and afterward you tell him how you think it went well and how you hope it went well for him as well. Throughout the lecture portion of the class you make small comments to him that Jihoon either ignores or only makes small grunts towards.

When class gets out you happily take Jihoon’s bag from him. Your dorm is the building next to his and you don’t mind carrying his bag as you accompany him back to the dorms. You hum to yourself as you guys walk and every once in a while you’ll stop to point something out to him.

“Have a goodnight Jihoon!” You call to him as you walk towards your building. His bag is slung over his shoulder now and he doesn’t look back as he walks into the dorm.

“Have you been getting enough sleep Hoon-ah?” You ask him as he trudges into class. Your head is cocked to the side slightly and your eyes are a little too wide and questioning for eight in the morning. Concern laces your voice and Jihoon only grunts at you.

“What’s it to you?”

“I want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself! Here,” you dig around in your bag before pulling out a protein bar and a bottle of water, “you need to keep your energy up. Get more sleep too. Sometimes it gets to a point where your work won’t be any good if you’re exhausting yourself. It’s also good to take a step back and come back to it if you get stuck.”

Jihoon doesn’t know how you do it. How you always read him so well and know what he’s up to. Nobody else knows that he’s been losing sleep over trying to perfect one single song for the past couple of nights, but here you are, telling him to take a break and come back to it later.

Jihoon glares down at the items you’re offering him. He doesn’t want to take them, he doesn’t want to give in to you, but he didn’t eat breakfast this morning and the only thing he’s drank for the past forty-eight hours has been coffee and energy drinks.

Reluctantly he picks up the protein bar and the water and a wide grin spreads across your face. Content, you sit back in your chair and start to get ready for class.

The protein bar flavor is his favorite and it makes Jihoon frown even more. He can’t tell if you meant to do that or not. It doesn’t matter, if it was coincidence or if it was on purpose, it would still annoy Jihoon.

It would annoy Jihoon the way your whole attitude annoys him. He barely was able to wake up and roll out of bed to get to class, but here you are, drumming your fingers against the table as you hum along to whatever song is playing in your earbud (playing in your right ear, because Jihoon sits on your left side). Your eyes are bright and you’re scribbling down the title of the notes the professor already has pulled up on the screen.

An hour and a half passes by and Jihoon has no clue what happened in class. He’s blinking sleep out of his eyes as you’re packing up your items. He stares down at his work space to see the protein bar wrapper and a half drank bottle of water. Soon a notebook is added as you slide yours over.

“I thought I’d let you sleep, it looks like you needed it. Don’t worry, Professor Chu didn’t see. Here are today’s notes. Let’s go to the library yeah? You can copy down my notes and we can study for the upcoming test as well.”

Jihoon doesn’t need your help, and he doesn’t want your company, but he still follows along with you to the library so he can copy down your notes. He’s being an opportunist, like Jeonghan told him to be.

You’re not stupid, you’re actually a great student, but concepts don’t stick in your brain as well as they do in Jihoon’s. Jihoon is effortlessly smart, the type of person who can do his work in one go and not worry about it and doesn’t have to study just to pass. So as you guys study you have to keep asking Jihoon questions about the content. He gives you short answers but you still thank him every time, looking genuinely grateful.

Jihoon is more awake for your guys’ next class. He takes notes this time and when he glances over at you he can see the way your brow furrows and your lips twist into a pout. When you guys are given work time he slides his own notebook over to you.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he tells you. “It’s only because you gave me your notes earlier.” Jihoon isn’t going to let someone fail just because he finds them annoying.

“Thank you so much Jihoon!” You quickly look over his notes. They’re messier than yours but somehow more comprehensible than whatever is on your paper.

By the time class ends you understand a lot better and you have an unwavering smile spread across your face. You walk with Jihoon as he makes his way to the dining hall. He finds his friends at a table and makes a beeline towards them.

“I see your puppy is following you today,” Wonwoo comments as he looks up at Jihoon above his glasses.

“Do you even shut up Wonwoo?” Jihoon drops into his chair and drags his hands over his face. “I’m too tired to deal with your shit today.”

“Ah poor baby? Maybe your puppy will make it feel better.” The condescending tone drips out of Wonwoo’s mouth.

Jihoon is about to get up and hit the elder when all of a sudden a tray of his favorite foods is placed in front of him. “See you next class Hoon-ah!” You smile down at him before you make your way to another table.

You never sit with him at lunch, unless it’s on Fridays. You claim it’s because you don’t want to disturb his time with his friends or something like that. Jihoon just knows that he’s able to enjoy some time away from you. On Mondays and Wednesdays when you don’t have class you sit with your own group of friends at lunch. Jihoon doesn’t know much about them other than they’re underclassmen. Jihoon doesn’t get why you don’t follow them around but then again when has he ever tried to understand you.

“Hey do any of you know anything about the guys Y/N eat lunch with?” It’s Jeonghan who asks the table. It seems like it’s not just Jihoon who has his eyes on you.

“The big one is Kim Mingyu,” Wonwoo responds. Jihoon wonders how he knows more about you than he does. “The skinny one with the long nose is Lee Seokmin.”

“Oh I know Minghao and Chan! They dance with me and Junnie!” Soonyoung says excitedly.

“The other two are Boo Seungkwan and Choi Hansol. I have a class with them,” Jun tells the table. “The Boo guy is loud.”

“Hey, why do you even wanna know hyung? Trying to steal Jihoon’s dog?” Wonwoo has a shit-eating grin on his face. Jihoon kicks him under the table.

“Nah, just wondering if everyone else at the table is as much of a simp as Y/N is. I’m looking for a dog myself.” Jihoon kicks Jeonghan as well.

You and Jihoon are at a music event together.

It’s an assignment for your Modern Music class to go to some kind of live music event and when you found a venue that was holding a setlist of up and coming musicians you invited Jihoon to go with you. The only reason he agreed was because he needed to get the assignment done and every other event he looked at was too expensive or too far away. He truly doesn’t know how you somehow found this one. The bands aren’t bad either, which is a plus.

“So what do you think?” You ask him as the stage is being set up for the next group. The venue is busy but not packed. Just enough people to call it successful but not too much that it’s overwhelming.

“It’s good. I liked the third band the best.”

“Oh the ones with the cool keyboard solo in the middle! Me too, I like when instruments get to shine as well as the vocals.” The sparkle is back in your eye but this it’s not aimed towards Jihoon, but rather towards talking about your interests. He’s seen you like this before, when you get going about an anime you’ve recently watched or when you’ve tried a new food you particularly liked.

“Here. You should hydrate.” Jihoon shoves a water bottle into your hands. He tells himself it's so he can get you to shut up.

“Ah, thank you Hoon-ah!” You take the water and pop the cap, downing three-fourths of the bottle in one go. “Oh look, it’s the next band!”

Once the setlist is finished and things seem to be winding down at the venue you somehow convince Jihoon to get dinner with you. You two slide into a booth at a hole in the wall pizza place and you two order before you let out a small yawn.

“Tonight was nice, but now I’m tired.” You’re hot and sweaty and tired and a little overstimulated from the venue but you’re hungry and the pizzeria is air conditioned so you’re not going to miss this chance to hang out with Jihoon.

“It was nice. It’s nice to go and listen to music live,” Jihoon says. “Thank you for inviting me. I liked listening to the smaller artists, it’s good to get out and support them.”

Your head is resting against the wall of the building but you perk up when you hear the compliment from Jihoon. You’re about to respond but your pizza is being brought to the table and your mind forgets to respond in turn to scarf down your dinner.

You’re able to finish a whole pizza together but your night doesn’t seem to be over because as you sit back in your chair Jihoon is talking. “Let's go get drinks.”

“What?”

“There’s a bar around the corner. I want to get a drink. Are you coming with?” You guys have a class tomorrow but it doesn’t start until noon. You’ve never heard Jihoon ask you to hang out so this surprises you.

“Y-yeah! Just let me pay.” You dig around in your pocket to grab your wallet. You find the money but Jihoon is frowning at you.

“Wait, let me split the cost.”

“Oh it’s no big deal!” You wave him off as you set your card down for the waiter to come get. “I want to, okay? You deserve to be treated to something nice every once and a while, even if it is just pizza.” You wink at him.

Jihoon wants to protest more but he knows you’ll just be stubborn about it. It’s exactly like what Jeonghan keeps going on about, how you’ll do anything for Jihoon. It’s annoying and there has to be something better to spend your time and money and efforts on.

You two walk down the street to the bar and when you walk in it’s unbusy as it is Thursday night. You take a seat at the bar and Jihoon orders a cojinganmek. You don’t drink much but you order a beer for you to nurse throughout the night.

Idle conversation passes between you two as Jihoon continues to drink more and more. Drunk Jihoon is a lot looser than Sober Jihoon. He laughs at your drinks more, is more receptive to your touch, and is more attentive to what you are saying. His eyes bore into you admiringly as you talk about the latest antics of your roommates.

When Jihoon is finished with his second glass and is thoroughly wasted you decide it’s time to bring him home. You pay the bill and then help Jihoon stand. He’s a bit wobbly so you support his weight with an arm around his waist and his own arm thrown around your shoulder.

You order a Lyft which says it will take ten minutes to get to you. You and Jihoon sit on the curb by the bar and Jihoon slumps his body into yours.

“It’s cold,” Jihoon slurs out.

“Here.” You tug your hoodie off your body and help him struggle into it. His eyes close softly at the warmth and he leans back into you.

“You’re too nice to me Y/Nnie,” Jihoon mumbles.

“Mmm is that a bad thing? Everyone needs kindness in their life.” Your hand plays with his dark locks as he snuggles his face into your neck.

Jihoon doesn’t respond and you think he’s falling asleep from the way his breathing steadies. When the Lyft pulls up you shake him awake and help him into the car. He lays his head down in your lap as you guys ride back to campus. You hum along to the radio and you rub Jihoon’s back until the Lyft is stopping and you have to help him out of the car.

“Come on Hoon-ah. You need to get to bed.” You dig around in his pockets until you find his ID card and his room key. You’re able to wrestle him into the elevator and to his dorm room. You struggle with Jihoon dangling off you as you try to unlock the door. Luckily you’re able to open the door and then help Jihoon inside.

“Jihoon! You’re home!” Soonyoung comes bounding out of his room only to stop when he sees you. “Oh, hi Y/N.”

“Hey Soonyoung. He’s a little drunk, which one is his room?”

“Here you’re probably tired. Let me bring him to bed. Thank you for bringing him home.” Soonyoung goes to grab Jihoon but Jihoon bats at his hand only to cling onto you tighter.

“No! I want Y/Nnie. Get away from me.”

“Shhh, it’s okay. Let’s get you to bed.” You shoot Soonyoung an apologetic look even though Soonyoung thinks he should be the one apologizing. Soonyoung just silently points to Jihoon’s room and you quietly thank him.

You help Jihoon lay down but he’s whining about his pants so you help him take his jeans off and he seems satisfied after that. You’re about to leave but Jihoon is grabbing at you again.

“No! Don’t leave me!” His fingernail digs into your skin and leaves a small gash and you hiss but sit down again, Jihoon’s grip loosening as you do.

“I have to go home, jagiya.” You tell him as you start to pet his hair again. The pet name slips out, but Jihoon only melts at it.

“Please. Just stay until I fall asleep?” He gives you big pleading eyes and you can’t say no to him. “Can you hum for me? I like when you hum.”

You comply and start to hum softly. Content, Jihoon settles down into bed, his arms wrapped around your forearm. Soon he’s asleep and you gently pry your arm out of his grip and close his door lightly.

“I’m sorry about him.” Soonyoung greets you outside Jihoon’s door. “He doesn’t normally drink.”

“I can tell. It’s okay, as long as he’s home safe.”

“You’re bleeding.” Soonyoung grabs your arm. There’s a long scratch where Jihoon’s nail broke your skin. “Let me get you a bandaid.”

Soonyoung helps patch up your arm and you bid a goodnight before you’re off to your own dorm to finally go to sleep.

“Ugh. I’m so hungover,” Jihoon groans as he trudges into the kitchen. Soonyoung is sitting at the breakfast bar drinking a cup of coffee.

“And who’s fault is that?” He quips.

“Shut up.”

“Is that a new hoodie?”

“What?” Jihoon looks down to see the large white hoodie he’s wrapped up in. There’s small black print on the front and Jihoon’s face flushes when he recognizes the article of clothing. “Uh yeah,” he lies. He can’t tell Soonyoung that he’s wearing your hoodie.

Oh god, what embarrassing things did he say and do last night?

Jihoon can’t focus on it too much though because he realizes he’s about to be late to class. He quickly throws on pants and a pair of shoes before he’s out the door. When he gets into the classroom the lecture hall is packed but there’s an open seat next to you of course, your bag sitting on the chair to save him the seat.

Jihoon picks up your bag and sets it at your feet so he can sit down in the chair. You look up at him as he does and smile at him.

“How are you feeling today Jihoon?”

“Awful.”

“Here.” Once again you’re handing him a water bottle, this time it’s accompanied by a bottle of painkillers. Jihoon gratefully takes the two items and pops two pills before downing the water.

When he hands back the bottle of pills he notices the bandaid on your arm, the skin around it a little red. “What happened to your arm?”

“You uh, scratched me last night,” you admit sheepishly. “It’s okay though! It doesn’t even hurt. Soonyoung just insisted on bandaging it because it was bleeding a little.”

Jihoon doesn’t know what to say. There’s your never ending kindness again. Always willing to let Jihoon off the hook for things, giving him everything while he can’t even spit out an apology. Class starts but Jihoon can’t stop shooting glances over at you. He’s lucky this class is just a seminar and he doesn’t have to pay too close attention.

When class gets done you pick up your bag and Jihoon’s and start to walk to the dining hall. Jihoon trails behind you, but you don’t mind. Jihoon is too focused on staring at you to keep up with your pace.

It isn’t until someone is calling his name that he comes out of his stupor. He expects it to be you but instead it’s a girl from one of his classes last year. What’s her name…Sujin?

“Jihoon! Hey. I haven’t seen you around in a while, but I’m glad I’m able to catch you. This might be kind of out of left field since we haven’t talked in a while but I was wondering...would you go out with me?”

The answer is no. Jihoon does not want to go out with Sujin. He’s just about to say that when he feels a hand on his shoulder. “Who’s this Hoon-ah?” Your voice is tense and curt in a way Jihoon has never heard before. You’re taller than Sujin and you look down your nose at her. The normal glint in your eye is replaced with a raging fire.

Sujin must get the message because she cowers back a bit. “O-oh, hello. I wasn’t- I’m just gonna go. Forget what I said Jihoon. Bye.” With that she scutters off.

Then with just the blink of an eye you’re back to normal, smiling cheerfully at Jihoon while you tell him to hurry up to the dining hall. Jihoon isn’t too sure what just happened, maybe some kind of possessive puppy thing that Wonwoo would make fun of him for. Jihoon isn’t too sure but the small voice in the back of his head tells him he doesn’t mind too much either.

It’s Friday which means both your friends and his friends have conflicting schedules so you eat lunch together. You dump the bags at your guys’ usual table (a booth hidden in the corner of the cafeteria) before you go to get food. When you get back to the table Jihoon is already digging into his large heap of food.

“Do you want something to drink?” You ask him as you set down your plate, but don’t sit.

“Water, please,” he responds but it comes out more like “waarrr pweeze” because his mouth is full. You go fill up two cups with ice water and bring them back to the table and set one in front of Jihoon before you sit down.

You two eat in relative silence until someone is calling your name. Jihoon looks behind him to see the tall guy you usually sit with heading towards the table. Your face lights up and you stand to greet the guy. You guys hug and Jihoon scowls at this a bit.

“I thought you had class today.” You sit back down and your friend sits down next to you, practically on your lap.

What’s his deal, give Y/N some space, Jihoon thinks. He continues to frown as he goes back to eating his food, his appetite a lot smaller than earlier. Jihoon struggles to think of this guy’s name. Ming-something.

“Jihoon right?” The guy is now looking at Jihoon. “You’re Y/N’s high school friend.”

“Uh, yeah.” Jihoon wouldn’t exactly call you a friend but for the time being it’s easier to say yes.

“Cool, I’m Mingyu!” He holds out a large hand and Jihoon just stares at it. Mingyu gets the idea and awkwardly retracts his hand, but he doesn’t seem too upset by it because soon his hand is fiddling with your own. Jihoon glares at this as well. You can’t eat if he’s messing with your hands.

“Is something wrong Jihoon?” You ask him. Your head is tilted to the side again and it makes Jihoon think about how Wonwoo calls you his puppy. In moments like this he can see the resemblance.

“No, I’m fine,” Jihoon snaps. You recoil a bit at this, frowning, and Jihoon feels a twinge of guilt. It doesn’t stick though, because the big oaf is back to bothering you.

“Are you coming to the party tomorrow Y/Nnie?” He asks you.

“What party?”

“The one at Sigma Beta Tau.”

Jihoon knows what party Mingyu is talking about. SVT is the frat that Seungcheol is the president of. Fraternities aren’t really something Jihoon is interested in but it makes Seungcheol happy so Jihoon can’t complain. Not that Jihoon cares, but he listens for your answer. Just so he knows if he has to avoid you or not.

“I don’t know Gyu…”

“Please! C’mon Jihoon, tell Y/N to come.”

“Don’t drag me into this,” Jihoon grumbles.

“Well are you going to be there Hoon-ah?” You ask him. Your eyes are wide and sweet and Jihoon wants to smack that look off your face.

He’s about to spit out a it’s none of your business but your stupid puppy dog eyes are just too persuasive. “Yeah. You should uh, come too.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll think about it.” You shoot him a smile that’s too bright for Jihoon’s liking. With the conversation out of the way you smack Mingyu’s hands away so you can eat and Jihoon smirks a bit at that.

The smirk is wiped off his face when Mingyu decides to talk again. “Hey, is that Y/N hoodie?”

You and Jihoon both whip your heads to look at the sweatshirt on Jihoon’s body. Right, he left in such a hurry he never changed out of it.

“Oh uh, you can have it back.” Jihoon goes to take off the hoodie but you stop him.

“No, it’s okay. I have plenty of others. You look good in it as well.” You wink at him like you did last night and Jihoon feels his face get hot. Probably from the dining hall ovens.

Mingyu seems to notice Jihoon’s flush as well and glares at the older boy, Jihoon glares back. You don’t notice the tension between the two and Jihoon can't tell if that's a good or bad thing.

The frat house is loud and hot. It’s overwhelming and you can’t remember why you agreed to come. You weave in between bodies with a cup of soju mixed with some kind of fruit juice in your hand. You’ve barely taken a sip out of it and you’re just looking for a place where you can sit.

The upstairs front room is less busy than the downstairs living room and there’s a few empty spaces on the couch. Also on the couch is one Lee Jihoon. Right, that’s why you agreed to come.

You happily bounce over to the couch, a new vigor inside you now that you’ve laid your sight on the boy. You take the seat next to him and right away he turns to address you.

“You came.”

“Yeah! Kind of regretting it though,” you chuckle a bit.

“Are you not having fun?” Genuine concern laces Jihoon’s voice.

“Parties just aren’t my thing. I get too overstimulated,” you explain as you fiddle with the rim of your cup. “Nothing against Seungcheol at all, it’s all parties in general.”

“Well come on.” Jihoon is standing and offering his hand out to you. You stall for a moment but then grab onto his outreached limb, letting him pull you away from the party. He tugs you upstairs into the restricted area.

“Can we be here?” You ask in a low voice, afraid to get caught. Jihoon laughs a bit at you.

“Yeah, Seungcheol lets me up here during parties, not worries.” Jihoon opens a door and pulls you inside. Right away you can tell the room belongs to the frat president himself. The room just screams CHOI SEUNGCHEOL.

Once inside you notice how quieter it is. You automatically feel a lot more at peace. Jihoon gestures for you to join him on the bed and reluctantly you climb on.

“What movie do you want to watch?” Jihoon asks as he turns on the TV and pulls up Netflix. You two settle on a random animated kids movie that’s saved in Seungcheol’s “My List” for whatever reason.

You remember you’re still holding your cup and you try to take a drink only to recoil back again. “Eugh.”

“Switch me.” Jihoon holds out his own cup. “It’s just Cola I promise.”

You give him your cup and take his, taking a drink and humming pleased at the taste of the sweet, bubbly soda. You look over at Jihoon who’s drinking out of the cup with alcohol and when he brings the cup away from his lips you nudge your shoulder into his. “Don’t get drunk on me again.”

Jihoon flushes at this and you pretend not to notice to save him from the embarrassment. “I promise I don’t usually drink, especially not like that.”

“Don’t worry Hoon-ah, I believe you.”

A comfortable silence falls between you guys as you focus on the movie. Without meaning to your eyelids start to droop and soon you fall into a slumber.

Jihoon doesn’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until it gets a little too quiet. He looks over to see your eyes closed, your mouth open just a bit as your chest rises and falls. Jihoon knows he shouldn’t stare but he can’t help it. You look so sweet and peaceful when you’re sleeping. Your features are soft and your normal demanding presence is replaced with one of being small and calm.

You stir a bit and Jihoon is afraid you’ve caught him staring but instead you just shift. Your head falls onto Jihoon’s shoulder and your arms move to wrap around his torso. Jihoon tenses up, but then slowly unstiffens at the way you nuzzle into him. God you really are just a puppy aren’t you.

Jihoon wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his side even more. This doesn’t mean he likes you, it’s just only fair that you get a good sleep after you let him sleep in class the other day. If Jihoon’s heart flutters at the way you cling onto his shirt, well he pretends he doesn’t notice it.

Jihoon is starting to doze off himself when the door to Seungcheol’s room opens and the tenant of the room walks in.

“Ew are you having sex in my bed?” Seungcheol shouts as he only saw two bodies on his bed before he squeezed his eyes shut.

“No!” Jihoon hisses. “Be quiet, they’re sleeping.” Your body has compacted itself even more so your knees are drawn to your chest as you hug Jihoon tightly.

Seungcheol slowly removes his hand from his eyes to look at his best friend sitting on his bed, his puppy curled up on his side. Seungcheol’s face softens at the sight before it turns into confusion. “Wait, I thought you didn’t like them.”

“I don’t,” Jihoon insists without giving any more explanation, leaving Seungcheol even more confused.

“Well can you get out of my room?”

Jihoon sighs. He really hates to wake you up. He starts off by removing your arms from his body. When he’s standing and fully stretched out he shakes you gently. You stir a bit and your face scrunches up before your eyes blink a bit open. You rub at your eyes and squint up at Jihoon and in a moment of weakness he finds you adorable. It only takes him a second to come to his senses though.

“We’re being kicked out. C’mon.” Jihoon helps you crawl off the bed. He supports your weight as you guys walk downstairs and to the front porch of the frat building. You’re still half asleep on your feet but you still have to get home. He then turns his back to you and squats down a bit. “Hop on.”

You don’t question it and clamber onto his back. Jihoon is surprisingly strong and is able to carry you across campus without a hassle. He’s about to bring you to your dorm before he realizes he doesn’t know what floor or room you live in. He’s not going to leave you alone though so there’s only one more option.

You’re fully asleep on Jihoon’s back by the time he gets into his dorm. He can feel your warm breath against his neck as he moves into his room. He lets you down onto the bed and pulls the covers onto you but as he goes to leave you grab his arm. Jihoon feels a wave of deja vu but he can’t dwell on it because you’re tugging on his arm.

“Can Jihoonie stay?” Your voice is quiet and shy and a bit slurred from sleep. Jihoon’s heart thumps in his chest. You’ve never called him Jihoonie before, it’s always either Jihoon or Hoon-ah. Normally he hates it when people call him the silly nickname, but he can’t help but like the way it sounds coming from your lips.

“I shouldn’t,” Jihoon tells you, despite wanting to crawl right into bed with you, stealing your body warmth for himself.

“Okay,” you mumble sadly. Jihoon is a bit surprised (disappointed) you give up so easily. Your hand doesn’t let go of Jihoon though. You tug a bit harder and Jihoon is bending down to meet your demands. “Thanks for taking care of me jagiya.” You try to press a kiss onto his cheek but you’re still a bit disoriented and it lands on the corner of his mouth instead and butterflies erupt in Jihoon’s stomach.

Jihoon doesn’t sleep. He lays on the couch the whole night, staring up at the dark ceiling. He doesn’t know what to do. How to feel.

How is it possible that you’ve wormed your way into his heart? When did he stop being annoyed by your presence and started to enjoy it?

Jihoon knows he doesn’t deserve you. He’s been nothing but rude to you, but you stay loyal. You’re so sickeningly sweet and Jihoon is more bitter than the black coffee he loves to drink. Every chance he’s given Jihoon is rude to you. He isn’t allowed to feel this way about you, it's not fair.

He’s still beating himself up when he hears the cry coming from his room. He’s up in an instant and at the door. His hand stutters as he goes to reach for the handle but he persists through when he hears you cry out again.

Jihoon’s heart breaks when he sees you. Tear tracks stain your face and your body is shaking as you cling onto the covers. You’ve never looked so meek in your life. Jihoon is at your side instantly as he reaches out to grab your arm with one hair and to pet your hair with the other.

“Y/N. Y/N, baby, wake up.” It barely registers in his mind that he called you baby, too focused on stopping your nightmare. You wake up after a couple more seconds. Tears are still coming down your face and you sniffle a bit as you look up at Jihoon.

“H-hoonie?”

“Hey baby, it’s okay. You’re safe now.” Jihoon pushes you over a bit so he can crawl into bed next to you. He wraps you up in his arms and you promptly bury your face into his neck. Your breath is still shaky and your hands grip onto him tightly but Jihoon doesn’t mind, he just rubs your back soothingly.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall back asleep, your face more peaceful this time now that you’re in Jihoon’s protective arms. He knows he shouldn’t be holding you like this, he shouldn’t be here laying in bed with you, but tonight, he can be selfish.

When he wakes up his bed is cold and empty and Jihoon can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. It takes him a moment to fully wake up and roll out of bed. Without thinking he throws your hoodie on and shuffles into the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen he sees the small blue sticky note on the counter. Scrawled in your handwriting is Good morning Jihoon! I had to run but I made you breakfast (it's in the microwave), text me if you need anything else! - Y/N ♡

There you go again, taking care of Jihoon. For the first time ever Jihoon feels guilty for taking advantage of your kindness. You had a rough night and you’re still the one waking up and making Jihoon breakfast. He moves over to the microwave and opens it to see a bowl of breakfast fried rice with two big slices of ham on top.

Jihoon is just digging into his breakfast when the door opens and Soonyoung stumbles in.

“What’s your problem?” Jihoon grunts.

“Hungover,” Soonyoung mutters before he goes digging through the cupboards for painkillers. “Spent the night at Wonwoo’s.” He downs his water and the pills before sitting down at the counter. The sticky note catches his eyes and he looks at it. “Y/N was over last night?”

“Uh yeah, after the party.”

“Oh good you and Y/Nnie are getting along now!”

Jihoon sputters over his words, not quite sure what he should say. “We, I-, it’s not like that.”

“Like what?” Soonyoung reaches over and steals the last bit of ham in Jihoon’s bowl. Jihoon is too focused on trying to figure out what he’s saying to yell at his roommate.

“It didn’t mean anything. I was just being nice.”

“That’s still a step forward. You’re never nice to Y/N.” Soonyoung’s words have Jihoon’s stomach rolling. Why is he never nice to you? When did he decide that your doting and kindness was annoying instead of sweet?

There’s nothing special to Jihoon or his relationship with you. You guys met in high school and ran in different circles but you would still regularly bump into each other with shared classes and school events and club activities. Jihoon never found you special, just another stranger he was forced to be around.

Back in high school you didn’t bother Jihoon much. It wasn’t until your freshman year of college that you decided to start following him around. It was then that Jihoon decided your constant presence was bothersome. Oh how wrong he was.

Jihoon’s eyes flit back down to your note. He opens his phone and searches for your number. It’s buried in his contacts and when he clicks on your guys’ text conversation his heart clenches at the sight. Albeit there isn’t much there, most likely because Jihoon has never responded to any of the messages you’ve sent. The last one is from over nine months ago, you seemingly giving up on trying to text him.

His fingers itch to text you, to send you a message, but he stops himself. He shouldn’t bother you when you’re out doing something. It’s not fair to you for him to call on you when you’re busy, because he knows if he does, you’ll come running to him. Just like a dog when their owner calls them to come.

The rest of the day Jihoon can’t stop thinking about you. About your sparkling eyes and smiling mouth and soft body and-

Jihoon is going to drive himself insane thinking about you.

It’s wrong. Wrong for him to think about you in that way. To think that he can have you when you deserve much better. It’s not fair for him to want you when all he’s done is push you away.

But how can he not want you? Want your water bottle offerings and your soft sweatshirts and your home cooked meals and your soft humming. What has Jihoon been missing out on? Your warm cuddles and the way you call him ‘jagiya’ and little handwritten notes with hearts at the end.

Jihoon’s mind is spinning. It seems like in a matter of a night he’s gone from hating you to wanting you to be his. He wants you in his life, he wants all of your quirks and your doting and your sickly sweet personality.

He’s been a fool to think of you as anything but amazing. All those times pushing you away, was it because he knew deep down? Knew that if he let you in he would be falling head over heels for you.

You practically already act like Jihoon is your boyfriend. You never scold him when he stays up too late but you gently push him to take care of himself. You always treat him right, letting him copy your homework when he forgets about it in lieu of a long night of producing. Nothing would really change if you became his S/O.

Guilt creeps up Jihoon’s back and bites at his brain though. He wants all of that, wants you, but he doesn’t deserve you. He’s been horrible to you over and over again and you’ve been nothing but nice. Why does he think he can get you now that he’s finally shaped up? All of his past relationships have ended in a big giant fail, most on his part. What if he does the same with you?

You need someone who can be just as sweet as you. Someone who will give you as much as you give them. It’s not fair for Jihoon to expect you to continue giving to him while he doesn’t know if he can give you the same back. But god does he want you so badly. What is he going to do?

The next time you and Jihoon run into each other is your morning Monday class, Intro to Music Business.

“Hoon-ah!” You call for him and Jihoon’s heart bursts at your smiling face. How has he denied you for so long?

Jihoon quickly makes his way to your side and without saying anything he pulls you into his arms. He buries his face into your neck and holds you tight against him. Your body stiffens at first but relaxes and you wrap your own limbs around him. Jihoon finds that he likes the smell of your shampoo, it’s comforting.

“Jihoon? Are you okay?” Your voice is low in his ear as your hands play with the hair at the nape of his neck. You and Jihoon have actually never hugged before and you’re worried something is wrong.

“Mhmm,” Jihoon hums. “Just wanted a hug.” He pulls away before sitting in his chair. You’re still a little dumbfounded but sit down next to him nonetheless. The whole class you notice how close Jihoon is sitting next to you. Normally he likes his space and leans away from you but today he leans towards you, his knee knocking into yours occasionally.

When you guys walk out of class Jihoon is about to say goodbye to you but you stop him. “Actually my next class got canceled for today. Could I uh, eat lunch with you and your friends? You can say no but-”

“Of course you can.” Jihoon smiles at you and your heart melts a bit. How is he so adorable?

You two walk to the dining hall where Jihoon’s friends are already deep in a conversation. You know all of them but you wouldn’t say you know any of them besides Soonyoung. Jihoon sits and you go over to the food area to get two plates before coming back to the table, sitting in between Jihoon and Joshua. You give Jihoon his plate and he smiles at you gratefully before digging in.

“Hey Y/N!” Soonyoung’s bright smile nearly rivals yours. “I have never seen you on Monday before.”

“Ah, I normally have class,” you explain.

After that nobody really pays mind to you. You don’t care too much but it’s a bit awkward sitting with all of the boys as they basically ignore your existence. If it wasn’t for Jihoon’s thigh touching yours you wouldn’t even be able to tell that anyone remembered you were there.

You pull out your phone to scroll through social media. You laugh to yourself when you see a funny TikTok about music majors. You look over at Jihoon who looks lost at the conversation going on so you nudge him a bit.

“Hoon-ah, look at this,” you tell Jihoon. It reminds him of a puppy asking their owner to play with them. Jihoon doesn’t mind, just leaning into you so he can look at your phone. He knows the guys are watching the way your heads touch as you hunch over the phone but he doesn’t really care.

Even after you guys are done watching the TikTok you wanted to show Jihoon, he still keeps his chin resting on your shoulder as you continue to scroll through your feed. Jihoon likes being able to feel the heat radiating off your body, absorbing your warmth for himself. He’s itching to just wrap his arms around your torso but he won’t let him, afraid to cross any boundaries and make you uncomfortable. Instead he opts to play with your hand, just like Mingyu was doing the other day. This is different though, this is him doing it, instead of that stupid giant.

You both are finished eating and your next class isn’t for another hour. A few of his friends disperse but the others stay at the table, talking about whatever topic they find interesting. The table is down to just you, Jihoon, Soonyoung, Wonwoo, and Jeonghan when Seungkwan and Seokmin walk up.

“Y/Nnie!” Seokmin calls. You look up from your phone to see the two boys staring down at you.

“Min, Kwan! Hi!” You smile up at them and Jihoon swears that if you had a tail it would be wagging right now.

“You probably ate but do you want to come sit with us?” Seungkwan asks.

You pull away from Jihoon to look at him with big pleading eyes, like you’re asking him permission to go sit with your friends. “I don’t mind. I’ll catch you in class, right?”

“Stay in the dining hall and we can walk over together, okay?” You stand up and grab your back before shooting a smile at Jihoon. Jihoon watches you start up an animated conversation with your friends as you go to sit with them.

“Jihoon what the hell was that?” Jeonghan asks.

“It looks like the owner has gotten just as attached to the puppy,” Wonwoo teases. “Am I right Hoon-ah?” Jihoon glares at Wonwoo for ruining your nickname for him.

“Shut up, all of you,” Jihoon grumbles. He wonders if it would be weird if he ditched his friends just so he could go sit with you and your friends.

“Does this have anything to do with Sunday morning?”

“Oh what happened Sunday morning?”

"Well Sunday morning-"

“Who are you guys? Joshua? Shut up about Sunday morning,” Jihoon snaps.

To Jihoon’s annoyance though, Soonyoung doesn’t shut up. “Apparently Y/Nnie spent the night and then they made Jihoon a nice breakfast and left him an adorable note.” The other boys coo at Jihoon which has his blood boiling even more.

“I just realized some shit okay.”

“Realized what? That you’re done being a dick and now you want them? Yeah good luck with that one,” Wonwoo snorts. Jihoon glares at Wonwoo, but this time he can’t help but feel like there is some weight to his words.

Everything blows up the next Thursday.

To Jihoon, it’s inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

You guys are at lunch again. Your friends are sitting at the table next to his so you guys are still close to one another. Jihoon keeps glancing over at you and every time he does, you’re staring right back. It has him flustered like a shy schoolboy. He’s never felt like this before.

The past couple of day’s Jihoon has been more receptive to you. Not as much as you are to him, but still it’s a start. At the end of the day Jihoon’s mind still spins thinking about you and his feelings for you. How much he’s infatuated with you, and in turn how much he shouldn’t be.

He’s started to text you, which is new, but nice. You’re actually texting each other right now. He can hear you giggling at your table everytime he sends something you think is humorous.

Everything seems okay, that is until Kim Mingyu happens. Kim fucking Mingyu. Who Jihoon has found, he doesn’t like that much, or at all.

“Jihoon-ssi,” the booming voice has Jihoon looking up from where he’s responding to your text. It’s the big guy who’s addressing him, a glare on his face as he stands.

“Gyu, stop.” Your voice is soft but Jihoon still hears you, sees the way you grab at Mingyu’s forearm to get him to sit back down.

“Stop fucking around with Y/N. We only know you’re using them, so just cut the shit okay.”

“Mingyu!” You hiss. “Sit back down right now.”

“No, I’m tired of seeing him play with your emotions and treat you like shit all the time. You’re the best person to walk this goddamn Earth and he can’t even give you the time of day!” Jihoon wonders how Mingyu knows all this. They’ve barely interacted at all, so that means that you’re telling him yourself how poorly Jihoon treats you. His stomach stirs.

“Do not yell at me,” you growl, “and do not talk about Jihoon like that.”

“Well then stop simping over him! He doesn’t like you like that!”

“Shut up Kim Mingyu.” Jihoon has never seen your eyes so sharp and glaring before. Your harsh gaze bores into Mingyu like you guys are having a silent argument through your eyes.

“Loyal and protective,” Jihoon hears Wonwoo whisper, that teasing tone in his voice again. That’s what makes everything inside of Jihoon snap.

Mingyu is right. It’s not fair of him to treat you like shit while you do nothing but give him kindness. You’re always so loyal to him, no matter what. You deserve something better. Someone better. Someone who’s not him. Jihoon has wracked his mind time after time wondering why you picked him, why you were always so kind to him and kept giving him chance after chance. Why do you never give up on him? It’s unfair of him to make you deal with him continually. Someone as precious as you needs someone other than Jihoon.

In order for you to let go, he has to cut you off. Hurting you now will be much better than hurting you later.

“Yah! Kim Mingyu!” Jihoon’s voice snaps both of your stares away from each other to Jihoon. “You’re right, I am using Y/N. They’re so pathetic thinking that I’ll ever like them back. Not to mention they’re just so goddamn annoying. The incessant bothering me and doting on me. I’ll be glad for them leave me the fuck alone.” Jihoon’s words are laced with malice as he snarls them out. Your body is cowering back in your seat, trying to make yourself small, trying to ignore the tears welling up in your eyes. “I pray for the day I never have to see Y/N again.” With his final words spat out Jihoon grabs his back and storms out of the dining hall.

His chest tightens as he does. His heart aches, making it hard to breathe. He tried to think about anything other than the words he just yelled. Other than the look on your face. This is what he’s wanted for years, so why does it hurt so much right now? He had to do it, so you can be happy. That’s what he tells himself at least.

Jihoon hates the way he can feel you missing from his life. You don’t sit by him in class anymore, don’t even look at him. It also makes Jihoon realize how much he relied on you. When he falls asleep in class he doesn’t have a way to get the notes. When he eats lunch on Friday your guys’ table feels a little too empty by himself. When he walks to class he misses the way you would blabber about everything. It’s not just that either, it’s everything.

It seems like the universe is out to get him because he can’t stop thinking about you. Even things that shouldn’t remind you of him do. Even the stupid cookie Soonyoung brings him reminds him of you. It’s your favorite flavor and Jihoon has to stop and think about how he knows that. How does he know that? Since when does he know you so well? All that time listening to you blabber about stupid things, maybe Jihoon wasn’t blocking you out as much as he thought he was.

It pains Jihoon’s heart. His mind keeps flashing to the pained look on your face before he turned his back on you. He spends most of his time in class staring at you, willing for you to look at him just once. You never do.

He misses you. He wishes you would come back. You can only kick a dog so many times before it stops coming home though.

You make an effort to avoid Jihoon, he can tell, and he doesn’t blame you. It doesn’t stop him from wishing you’d be by his side though. He just wants to see you. See your soft eyes and sweet smile.

Jihoon gets the opportunity, but not in the way he was hoping.

“Mingyu-ah!” Jihoon recognizes the voice but this time it’s not calling for him. You blur past him as you run to the taller boy and launch yourself into his arms. He catches you and sweeps you up into a big hug. You giggle as he presses quick little kisses into your face.

Jihoon’s whole body stops moving. When did this happen? Since when is Kim fucking Mingyu the object of your affections?

Jihoon knows. He knows he’s not allowed to have feelings about your current relationship, but the sight of you and the younger boy makes his stomach churn and his chest tighten.

Mingyu lets you slide down his front, your feet landing on the ground again. You stay on your tiptoes though, as Mingyu leans down and captures your lips against his. You hold his big head in your hands and his hands rests on your waist. The sight makes Jihoon disgusted. He wants to go and tear Mingyu’s hands off of you. As much as Jihoon doesn’t deserve you, neither does Kim Mingyu.

“Leave them be.” The new voice makes Jihoon jump a bit and a scowl sits on his face as he turns to see Soonyoung. “Look how happy they are. Look at the way Mingyu loves them back. You don’t get to ruin that Jihoon.”

“Shut up Soonyoung,” Jihoon growls.

“You’re just mad because I’m right. You’re the one who denied Y/N for years and then chased them off. I don’t care if you’re suddenly in love with them or whatever you’ve got going on, but keep it to yourself. You’ve already hurt Y/N enough.”

With that Soonyoung turns and leaves, leaving Jihoon alone with his thoughts once again.

The next time Jihoon has to witness you and your boyfriend together is at another frat party. You’re all that’s been on Jihoon’s mind. He’s constantly at battle with himself, going between how this is better for you, but thinking about how much he misses you, how much he regrets hurting you. It takes all of his resistance not to text you. To stop you after class. To do anything to get you to interact with him.

He came to the party in hopes to run into you but also to try and get drunk to get his mind off of you. It’s complicated. He’s not even drunk though as he makes his way to the bathroom. He passes one of the hallway closets but stops. Jihoon’s stomach rolls as he hears your voice accompanied by loud kissing noises.

“Mingyu~” you whine. “Stop, we can’t do this. Not here.”

“I promise nobody will catch us.” The kissing noises continue.

“We really should stop Gyu. Doing this in here is…dirty.” You let out a gasp. Jihoon doesn’t know what happened but his blood still boils over it.

He hears you continue to protest while the kissing noises continue. Jihoon can’t take it anymore and he storms over to the door and throws it open. You and Mingyu both look shocked to see the intrusion. Mingyu’s mouth is close to your neck and one of his hands is on your ass as the other looks like it’s on its way down your pants.

“They said stop,” Jihoon growls. He grabs your arm and pulls you to his side. He puffs his chest out as if to scare Mingyu away, even though there’s over a 20cm difference between their heights.

“Hey it wasn’t like that, I promise. We-”

“Were just messing around? Yeah and what if Y/N didn’t take it as a joke? They already don’t like parties and now you’re crowding them out in a fucking closet-”

“Jihoon, it’s okay,” you assure the older boy. Your warm hand burns into his shoulder. “I know Mingyu wouldn’t do anything like that.”

“It doesn’t matter if it was just playful. You said stop and he didn’t. Come on, I’m walking you back to your dorm.” Jihoon turns and grabs your arm again so you can follow along with him.

“Hey, that's my partner!” Mingyu calls after Jihoon as he starts to pull you away.

“Too bad. Don’t follow us.” With that Jihoon pulls you out of the frat all together and closes the door in Mingyu’s face. He doesn’t let go of your arm as you guys make your way back to your dorms.

“What was that about Hoon-ah?” You ask the older boy with an exasperated sigh. Jihoon knows you’re mad at him, but he still relishes in the way you use the nickname on him.

“He didn’t respect your space. Guys like him are trouble Y/N. They don’t want anything other than sex,” Jihoon explains. It kills him to think about you and Mingyu in that way. That you guys are doing more than just kissing every once and a while. That Mingyu can put his hands all over you everywhere and that you let him.

“Maybe that’s what I want Jihoon.” The way you say his name is cruel and impatient.

Your words make Jihoon stop in his tracks. “Don’t say that.”

“Say what? That I want to have sex with my boyfriend.”

“That you want him to use you,” Jihoon snaps. “You deserve better than that.”

“Like you? Last time I checked you aren’t the most upstanding gentlemen either. At least I know Mingyu likes me back. Just leave me alone Jihoon,” you sigh as you push past Jihoon. He hates being treated like this. At least by you. Is this how you felt for the past two years?

Jihoon can’t get his body to move. He watched the way your back retreats, getting smaller and smaller. His feet are stuck to the ground and his throat is dry. Why can’t he do anything?

It’s not until you’re already inside your dorm building that Jihoon can find his voice. “I’m sorry Y/N…”

Jihoon thinks he’s hallucinating when he sees you crying alone on a bench on campus. It’s later in the evening and there’s a bite in the air but you’re in just a t-shirt and jeans as you sob into your hands. Jihoon doesn’t know what to do. Are you going to be even more upset if he approached you? But it would be wrong to leave you here crying all alone, vulnerable. He’s already done too many wrong things when it comes to you, so he decides to walk up to you.

“Y/N?” He gingerly rests his hand on your back and you look up at him. It reminds him of the night wherever everything really started. The night when you had your nightmare and Jihoon held you all night.

Jihoon wants to wipe your tears away but he stops himself. He doesn’t know if you’re going to be upset seeing him. “Jihoon,” you sob out. “I broke up with Mingyu.”

“Oh.” Jihoon sits down and pulls you into his arms. You sob into his shirt. He lets you. He rubs circles into your back, trying to calm you down the best he can. He ignores his slight happiness at the fact you and Mingyu are broken up. He can’t focus on it when you’re obviously in pain.

“I’m not crying because I broke up with Mingyu though,” you say through sniffles.

“Oh…well…why are you crying?” Jihoon’s words are slow and calculated, afraid that he’s going to set you off if he says the wrong thing.

“Because of you dumbass.”

“Oh.”

“Will you stop saying ‘oh’!” Your tears have stopped but your face is still buried in Jihoon’s chest. “You’re really stupid you know that.”

“Yeah, I’ve been realizing that lately. So…do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes. But I also hate you right now.”

“I know,” Jihoon tells you as he helps you stand. “Come on, it’s cold out.” He grabs your bag and throws it over his shoulder as he takes your hand in his. He guides you through the campus until he comes to his dorm. You don’t say anything as you ride up the elevator to his dorm or as he shuffles you into his room.

You automatically climb into his bed and bury yourself under the covers to try and gain your heat back. Jihoon scooches you over so he can climb in with you and you rest your head on his chest. Jihoon’s arms automatically wrap around you and to Jihoon it just feels right.

“I already told you I hate you right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay good, I just need you to know that before I say the next thing.” You’re glad you don’t have to look at him because you’re not sure if you would be able to do this if you were looking at his face. “I think I’m in love with you. But I know you don’t like me like that. You probably don’t even consider me a friend. I know I’m annoying, and not just because you said it, like I know I’m annoying, and I’m sorry that you’ve had to deal with me for so long. I-”

“Shut up.” Jihoon tells you, his hand coming to play with your hair. “You’re not annoying, I’m just mean. You’re nothing but sweet and caring and the best person I’ve ever met. You do nothing but take care of me and in all honesty you’re way out of my league. Remember that night I got super drunk?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t drink, like ever, but god I needed a drink that night. Being with you the whole night made me feel some sort of way and it scared me. Then after the frat party I was completely gone. I realized just how amazing you are and how awful I’ve been.”

“That is something we can agree on,” you snort.

“And then when Mingyu confronted me I realized just how much I’ve been hurting you. It dawned on me that you are worth so much more than I was seeing and that it wasn’t fair for me to want you to be mine when I couldn’t even treat you properly. And I was scared. You’re so precious and what if I did even more things wrong and broke you to pieces? What if it didn’t work out? You never gave up on me, but what if one day you did, what would I do then? So I said a bunch of shit that I didn’t believe because I thought it would be better for you if you finally let go of me. But then it killed me to see you with Mingyu.”

“Do you know why I broke up with Mingyu?”

“No.”

“He’s been on me for months now about you. When you, uh, yelled at me, he was saying all this shit about how like he’s so much better than you and shit. He told me to give him a chance to see how I should be treated properly. So we went on a date and I love Gyu, but only as a friend. It just didn’t feel right for him and I could tell he was really only doing it to get back at you or something so yeah. I guess neither of our hearts were in it.” You’re not cold anymore but you don’t want to move out of Jihoon’s arms. Even if you wanted to, you don’t think that Jihoon is going to let go of you that easily.

“You deserve so much more than me and Mingyu combined. I hope you know that.”

“Do you know why I like you so much?”

“Because I was the only familiar face in a new place?”

You chuckle a bit at that. “No, but that didn’t hurt. It’s because you’re literally so perfect Jihoon. You’re talented and attractive and you have a big heart. Remember in high school when that dick dumped his whole tray of food on Sungho’s head and homework? You checked on Sungho first and then chewed out that guy for like twenty minutes. You’ve always just been so admirable and I was so excited to see you here and have the chance to get to know you, but I guess I went a little overboard. I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused you. If you really want me to leave you alone now, I understand.”

“No!” Jihoon sits up causing you to tumble off his chest. You’re about to scold him but when you look at him he’s staring at you with passion in his eyes. “I never want you to leave me alone. I love when we eat lunch together and when you make me study with you and when you tell me about your day. There was this warmth in my chest when we went to go see those bands together and when we watched the movie together in Seungcheol’s room. I know that I’ve hurt you and that I’ve been nothing but rude and dismissive to you but I want you in my life. I don’t care if you act like my dog all the time, I want you to be mine.”

“Did you just call me a dog?”

“No!” Jihoon yells in frustration, not at you but at himself. “Ugh I just- it’s this thing Wonwoo keeps saying. He says you act like my puppy or something.”

“Your puppy huh? I kinda like the sound of that.” You grin at Jihoon and he flushes. God the effect you have on him. “So does this mean you like me back?”

“Y-yes,” Jihoon stutters. Why is this so embarrassing to admit? “And I want you to be mine but you deserve-”

Jihoon is cut off by your lips pressing against his. This kiss is even better than the one you gave him the night you slept in his bed. Jihoon grabs your face automatically and reciprocates the kiss fully. Before Jihoon can really appreciate the kiss you’re pulling away from him, resting your forehead against his.

“Sorry for kissing you without asking.” You’re a little breathless, Jihoon is too. “But you really need to learn when to shut up. I want you Jihoon. Nobody else. You’re sweet, I know you are. We’ll work things out, okay?”

“Okay,” Jihoon murmurs. He’s staring at your lips. He wants to kiss you again. “Kiss me again?”

“And you say I’m the dog.”

“Oh shut up.”

“Make me.” He does.

“You guys are gross,” Jeonghan tells you and Jihoon when he sits down at lunch on Tuesday. You guys are sitting side by side, Jihoon’s hand rests on your thigh as you lean into his shoulder.

“They’re in love, Hannie,” Jun tells the elder. “Let them be happy.”

“I didn’t realize Jihoon getting a partner would mean he would become a simp,” Jeonghan says.

“At least I can get a partner,” Jihoon quips back.

“Barely,” Wonwoo snorts.

“Y/N! Heard you dumped Mingyu’s sorry ass. HA!” Your friends come bounding up to the table. It’s Minghao who’s yelling at you. You groan and bury your face in Jihoon’s neck.

“Wait! Are you two?” Seokmin’s eyes flit between you and your boyfriend. “Finally! Y/N’s pining was getting a little too pathetic.”

“Seokmin!” Your head shoots up to glare at the boy. You turn to your boyfriend. “Don’t listen to them. I really wasn’t that bad. I didn’t even start having a crush on you until like a couple months ago and-”

Jihoon cuts your rambling off. “You’re cute, you know that.”

You blush at this. Your stupid boyfriend can get you so flustered. He flusters you even more when he cups your face and presses a kiss against your lips. In front of yours and his friends.

“Jihoon,” you whine when he pulls away.

“Come on, let’s get to class.” He grabs your hand and stands up. Your class doesn’t start for another thirty minutes but Jihoon wants some time alone with just you.

“Taking the puppy for a walk?” Wonwoo smirks. He knows that you know about the puppy jokes now.

“Walking my partner to class.”

“It’s okay Hoon-ah. Wonwoo’s just jealous he doesn’t have any game.” You smile innocently and with that you flounce off, pulling Jihoon in tow. When you guys are outside Jihoon stops and pulls you into his arms.

“Have I told you how lucky I am to call you mine?” He murmurs into your ear.

“Maybe,” you giggle, “but tell me again?”

“I am the luckiest man on earth to call you mine. I love you so much.”

“I love you too Hoon-ah.” You lean in to kiss him.

Jihoon happily accepts the kiss, melting into you. He can’t get enough of this. Despite all of Wonwoo’s teasing, it's all worth it. His puppy dog partner.

if you enjoyed this fic enjoy an additional 700 word smut drabble you can read here

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