#actually going to write this time I promise

[izzih22]

u should write a fic abt a post practice/ post game pazzi facetime call

Yours No Matter the Distance

Note: I promised yall I would post today so here you go. Also this is not based off a real game or anything just an fyi

Azzi Fudd had the Wings game pulled up on her laptop the second tip-off happened.

It didn’t matter that she had training at eight the next morning. Didn’t matter that she had weights, film, and a whole to-do list of team responsibilities. It didn’t even matter that Paige had told her not to stress about it, to “get sleep, baby,” and “catch the highlights in the morning.”

Azzi wasn’t missing a second.

Not of Paige.

Not of her girl.

Not for the world.

She sat cross-legged in bed, oversized UConn hoodie on Paige’s, obviously and her phone on Do Not Disturb as she watched #5 lead Dallas with a kind of control and intensity that gave Azzi goosebumps. There were flashes of that same old swagger, that glimmer Paige always got when she locked in. Her jumper was clean, her dimes even cleaner. Azzi swore she could watch her play for hours and never get tired of it.

Even the commentators were gushing, talking about her vision, her IQ, how the Wings were starting to feel like Paige’s team.

Azzi just smiled and whispered under her breath, “Damn right it is.”

By the time the game ended, Dallas had won by twelve. Paige had finished with 17 points, 9 assists, and a couple of defensive stops that had Azzi actually yelling at her laptop like she was courtside. And now, with the post-game interview wrapped up, Azzi was waiting, phone in hand, the FaceTime already set to Paige’s name.

It rang once.

Twice.

And then—

The screen lit up with a familiar face, damp hair slicked back under a towel, cheeks flushed from the game.

“Hey you,” Paige said, voice a little hoarse but still teasing, that grin pulling wide as soon as she saw Azzi.

Azzi melted. “Hi. You look hot.”

Paige raised a brow and tugged at the towel draped over her neck. “I’m literally sweating through my shirt right now.”

“Exactly.” Azzi leaned her cheek into her palm and gave her a soft smile. “You were so good tonight, P. Like—really good. I’m so proud of you.”

Paige’s expression softened, her shoulders sagging slightly like the weight of the game had finally let go. “Thanks baby. Felt like I finally found my rhythm tonight. Took me long enough.”

“You’ve been so good, though. The stats are crazy. But more than that? The way you lead out there?” Azzi shook her head in awe. “It’s like you were born for this.”

Paige snorted, but it came out shy, like she couldn’t quite take the compliment. “Coming from you? That means everything.”

“Damn right it should.”

They shared a smile, the kind that lingered, the kind that said I miss you even if neither of them had said it yet.

Paige broke the silence first, shifting the phone to show more of the locker room behind her. “I’ve got like twenty minutes before they kick me out. I should shower but…I kinda just wanted to see your face first.”

Azzi curled tighter into the hoodie, which still smelled like Paige even after a few washes. “I was waiting the second the buzzer went off. Had my phone in my hand like a clingy girlfriend.”

“You are a clingy girlfriend.” Paige grinned wider. “Thank God.”

“Shut up,” Azzi laughed. “Like you’re not the one who texts me every two hours on game day for good luck.”

“That’s…different.”

“How?”

“Because I’m obsessed with you. Duh.”

Azzi buried her face in her hands, giggling like she was sixteen again and falling for Paige for the first time. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, but I’m your worst.”

They paused again, both smiling too hard to speak. Paige leaned back in her chair, towel still hanging around her neck, and gave Azzi a look so full of love it almost hurt.

“Wish you were here,” she murmured, quieter now. “It’s not the same when you’re not on the bench or waiting for me in the tunnel.”

Azzi’s throat tightened. “I know. I wish I was, too.”

“I swear, every time I make a big play, I look over like I’m gonna see you there. And then I remember…” Paige trailed off with a shrug.

“Paige…”

“I know, I know. It’s just hard. I miss you.”

Azzi blinked hard. “I miss you more.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

Azzi bit her lip, trying to keep her voice steady. “I watched the whole game in your hoodie. Had it on the second I got home.”

Paige smiled so wide it nearly broke her. “You’re actually gonna kill me.”

“You deserve it.”

They both laughed softly, and for a moment, the distance didn’t feel so heavy.

Paige tilted her head. “You doing okay, though? Like, really okay?”

Azzi hesitated, then nodded. “I am. It just…sucks, not being there. I wanna be the one running into your arms after games, not sitting here on my bed pretending like FaceTime is enough.”

“It’s not enough,” Paige agreed. “But it’s something. And you’re still the last person I see before I fall asleep. Even if it’s through a screen.”

Azzi smiled again, sad and full all at once. “You know I watch every game, right? Every single one.”

“I know.” Paige’s voice got quieter. “It means everything.”

“I mean, I’d watch you do anything. Basketball just happens to be the sexiest option.”

Paige choked on a laugh. “Oh my god, Azzi.”

“What? You want me to lie?”

“You’re unreal.”

Azzi smirked. “And you’re lucky.”

“So lucky.”

They sat like that for a while Paige in the dim locker room, Azzi curled up in bed, their connection as strong as ever despite the miles between them.

Eventually, Paige let out a sigh. “Okay. I gotta shower. They’re giving me the side-eye already.”

Azzi pouted. “Fine. But FaceTime me again before bed?”

“You already know.” Paige looked right into the camera. “Love you, Az.”

Azzi felt her whole chest swell. “Love you more, P.”

“Not possible.”

“Wanna bet?”

Paige laughed, that raspy, tired sound that still somehow made Azzi’s heart skip. “I’ll call you in twenty, babe.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

They hung up.

Azzi leaned back in bed, still in Paige’s hoodie, screen dark, heart full. It wasn’t the same as being there in person. But it was theirs. And that was enough for now.

Because no matter how far apart they were, Azzi knew one thing for sure:

Paige was hers.

And she’d be watching every game until they were in the same place again.

Side by side. Where they belonged.

[callofthefae]

1. My eighteen-pocket coat that I sewed 18 years ago (it fits everything in it!), my phone, and all of my Loreena McKennitt records.

2. Annachie Gordon by (big shock here) Loreena McKennitt. It’s arguably the most haunting song of all time and I highly recommend it.

3. I love reading, listening to music, daydreaming, singing, writing, learning new things, ranting about topics I’m interested in, sewing, and playing the many instruments I can.

4. I don’t really celebrate holidays that much, but I participate at the local Beltane festival every year, and it’s mystical in a way I cannot describe.

5. I am a singer, author, instrumentalist, actress, anthropologist, and painter.

6. I’m going to be honest, I have too many different friend groups to choose one person who I hang out with. (I also have quite the tendency for reclusiveness, so….) If I had to choose one person, it would probably be my friend and band member, Dan Walsh, who I’ve known since I was eight.

7. One hundred percent night owl. I’ve been staying up till sunrise reading since I was four.

8. If I had to choose, probably llamas! They’re adorable and interesting!

9. I am nothing if not extremely introverted. It’s one of the reasons why I don’t tour often (also why I don’t act that much despite many offers). People usually exhaust me.

10. No! Quite frankly, I’m very glad I don’t.

11. Sort of cottagecore mixed with light and dark academia. I do dress more casually often, though, but I love wearing more fashionable outfits.

12. I love bad movies, so my favourite movie would probably be Joshua and the Promised Land, a horrid movie that I found on DVD at a thrift store last year. The animation’s awful, the story’s confusing, it’s a Christian movie, it’s so bad it’s perfect. My friend Tony is a film buff, so I enjoy traumatising him and making him watch these with me.

13. Crushes? Mayhaps, but despite my hopelessly romantic nature, I am romantically hopeless.

14. Libra. Honestly, I despise the idea that these in any way, shape or form determine your personality.

15. Anything that involves bread or cheese!

16. I am a musician and anthropologist, travelling is a part of the job. My travels throughout the world have influenced the music I make.

17. Again, it’s kind of part of the job, although I may have gone a bit overkill with them. I can play twenty-nine, most notably the harp, hurdy-gurdy, Byzantine Lyra, bagpipes, fiddle, piano, accordion, bouzouki, cello, and oud.

18. I don’t really have anyone I’d call my best friend, but Dan, as I mentioned earlier, has been my friend for the longest and is one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met.

19. Maybe not a least favourite, but I distaste the taste of chocolate. I also despise seafood.

20. Áine Noelle O’Cleary. Áine for the Queen of the Elves, and Noelle for…actually, I have no fecking clue why that’s my middle name. I guess my parents just liked the sound?

21. Actually, not at all! I love savoury and salty things, though.

22. I don’t really have any nicknames. Perhaps it’s because my name’s already short? A friend of mine who constantly will come up with the oddest wordplays for another friend of ours whose last name starts with Mc has tried some with my surname, but nothing has stuck.

23. The phrase “lock in”, proshippers, socialism, people who don’t understand that you can think something is immoral without thinking it should be illegal, bi erasure, ace/aro erasure, gender roles/stereotypes, conformity, people who don’t believe in true love, people who don’t have a sense of wonder, people who don’t take anything seriously, people, monolingualism, anti-intellectualism, over-consumption.

24. No, but I’ve thought about getting a cat!

25. Staying at home!

QUESTIONS TO ANSWER AS YOUR 𝒟R 𝒮ELF ✸

ib this post from @zaddizu & heavily ib premiumbitch ★

#1. what are 3 items you can’t live without?

#2. favorite song?

#3. what are your hobbies?

#4. favorite holiday?

#5. what do you do for a living?

#6. who is someone you always hangout with?

#7. are you a night person or a morning person?

#8. favorite animal?

#9. introvert or extrovert?

#10. do you have siblings?

#11. how do you dress?

#12. favorite movie / tv show?

#13. do you have a crush / significant other?

#14. what’s your zodiac sign?

#15. what’s your favorite snack?

#16. do you travel a lot?

#17. do you play instruments?

#18. who is your best friend?

#19. least favorite food?

#20. what’s your name?

#21. do you have a sweet tooth?

#22. nicknames your family or friends call you?

#23. what is something that annoys you?

#24. do you have a pet?

#25. do you prefer going out or staying at home?

[liuhsng]

─────⋆˚࿔ ⋆ off the record ( sjy ! ) — part 2

✩ˎˊ˗ enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jake x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ word count — 14.5k ⤷ based on this request by an anon ⤷ permanent taglist — open !

⤷ a/n — here’s part 2 as promised! i really had fun writing this one (especially the smut scenes hehe), so i hope you enjoy reading it just as much <3 i had to shuffle some events and performances around to make the timeline and plot flow smoother. pace yourselves, loves, ily always 🤍

⤷ warnings — smut (minors dni), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), idol au, secret relationship, established relationship trope, idol!jake, idol!reader, possessive!jake, clingy!jake, overprotective!jake, a little toxic communication, breeding kink, mating press, oral, creampie, overstimulation, squirting, possessive!jake, praise kink, slight dom!jake, clit stimulation, backshots, aftercare, whiny!reader, clingy!jake, post-sex softness, light bruising, post-orgasm cuddles, soft angst, toxic industry pressure, hurt/comfort, morning after fluff, and one extremely lovesick, whipped man

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — two years in, and jake sim still looks at you like he’s falling for the first time. but being an idol means love stays quiet—hidden in elevator rides, exchanged glances, and stolen moments between schedules. it’s always been worth it. until you’re on stage with another. until a harmless award and a scripted smile threaten to break the calm he’s clung to. jealousy was never part of the plan, but neither was loving you this much. where you win an unexpected couple award with someone else, and sim jaeyun realizes just how tired he is of pretending you’re not his.

You stared at your hands, cheeks flushing as the kitchen filled with stunned silence.

Then Jake sighed, a little more seriously this time. “I’ve already met her parents. Twice, actually. But this…” he gestured vaguely to the kitchen, to your members hovering around the stove and the stools. “This is way scarier.”

Yunjin set the ladle down and turned fully toward him, arms crossed. “Good. We should be scary.”

“He’s right though,” Kazuha piped up from her seat beside you, wide-eyed but amused. “I feel like we’re in the middle of a drama episode reveal.”

Eunchae returned from the pantry holding a jar of jam, blinking. “Wait, what did I miss?”

“Only the part where Jake-sunbaenim just confessed they’ve been dating for two years,” Sakura said, dazed.

Jake raised his hand in defense. “In my defense, I didn’t exactly plan on getting grilled over broth and strawberries.”

You buried your face in your hands. “This is the exact nightmare I’ve had, by the way.”

Yunjin tilted her head. “We’re not mad, dummy. We just wish we knew sooner.”

Jake turned to you, then looked back at the girls. “I didn’t want her to be the one carrying the weight of going public too early. It’s hard enough being an idol. Dating one? That’s another level.”

The kitchen fell quiet for a moment. Even the bubbling soup on the stove seemed to hush.

Your members stared at him in surprise—eyes flicking between each other and him, processing that kind of emotional maturity.

Yunjin finally broke the silence with a sigh, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she stirred the pasta sauce. “You know, sunbaenim… I always pegged you as the playboy type. Not someone who’s been in a committed relationship for two years.”

Jake immediately frowned, head whipping toward her. “Hey, what? That’s not—okay, rude.”

“And don’t call me sunbaenim, please,” he added, with a groan. “We’re not filming.”

That made Eunchae laugh as she popped up beside you and Kazuha, snagging a strawberry from your bowl. “Sorry, sunbaenim,” she teased under her breath.

Behind you, the oven beeped and Sakura pulled out a golden, bubbling lasagna with practiced grace. “This one’s done,” she announced, placing it on the counter before glancing over her shoulder.

“Now, spill—how’d you two even meet?”

Eunchae nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I wanna know! Like, was it fate or what?” she grinned, holding her hands out dramatically.

You passed her a strawberry slice with a chuckle before leaning against the counter.

Jake, now stirring the soup with a wooden ladle, hummed in thought. He turned his head slightly, catching your gaze for a soft second before saying, “I think… it was around Drunk-Dazed era?”

“Oh?” Kazuha blinked. “That far back?”

“Yeah,” Jake nodded. “I bumped into her in the elevator. Like, literally. She was wearing a headset and almost spilled her drink. I helped her pick it up and she just… smiled. I guess we started talking from then on.”

You looked down, cheeks warming at the memory. Your first real conversation had been about Genshin updates and whether or not it was worth pulling for Zhongli.

“But why?” Kazuha asked curiously, head tilting. “I mean, what made you like her?”

Jake didn’t miss a beat. “She’s my type.”

Sakura raised a brow immediately, unimpressed. “So you’re into gamer nerds now?”

You scoffed, throwing a napkin at her. “Excuse you—intelligent gamer nerds. Get it right.”

Sakura raised her hands in mock defense. “Hey, hey—I’m just stating the facts.”

Jake laughed behind you, stirring the pot once more. “She was funny, honest, didn’t care who I was, and somehow managed to make the elevator ride feel like ten seconds instead of ten floors.”

Eunchae clutched her chest dramatically. “Okay, that’s actually kinda romantic.”

Yunjin shook her head. “Still shocked. You’re like… boyfriend material? That’s wild.”

Jake turned to her, deadpan. “I am offended on so many levels right now.”

Yunjin only shrugged, completely unbothered, as she grabbed a stack of plates from the cabinet. “You’ll be fine. Now go set the table. (Y/N), wake Chaewon, please.”

Jake turned off the stove with a soft click, the boiling soup finally calming, and gave you a look that screamed good luck.

You stood, stretching a little before padding quietly down the hallway. You gently pushed open the door to Chaewon’s room, the lights still dim from when she knocked out earlier.

The curtains fluttered slightly from the breeze of the cracked-open window.

Careful not to startle her, you sat at the edge of her bed and nudged her shoulder gently. “Unnie… dinner’s ready,” you whispered.

She stirred, blinking slowly as she rubbed her eyes. “Already?”

You nodded with a smile. “Yeah. Also, um… my boyfriend’s here.”

Chaewon paused mid-stretch, one eye squinting open. “…Boyfriend what?”

You bit your lip, stifling a laugh. “Yep. He’s here. In the kitchen. With a knife. Very domestic.”

Her eyes shot open fully this time as she scrambled to sit up, brushing her hair out of her face in panic. “Who? Wait—what? Since when? You—what?!”

You grinned, standing up and helping her fix the knot of her oversized shirt as she grabbed a headband from her bedside table to look more like the responsible leader she was. “Two years,” you answered simply.

“Two—” she nearly choked, jaw going slack. “Two?!?”

You giggled, tugging her hand gently as you led her out of the room. “Yep. Come meet him. He’s real nice. Also your hoobae.”

Chaewon furrowed her brows in disbelief as you entered the kitchen, her gaze immediately locking on the boy in question—tall, fluffy brown hair, now setting down a pair of chopsticks beside each plate and laughing at something Eunchae said.

He spotted you approaching and perked up, flashing his signature soft smile. “Hi! I’m Jake.”

Chaewon blinked at him, then turned to look at you with a raised brow. You simply nodded with the biggest, most unapologetic smile on your face.

Chaewon turned back to him slowly. “…Yeah. I know who you are.”

Jake’s smile wavered for a millisecond. “R-right. Yeah.”

“She’s told me a lot about you,” she added calmly, walking past him toward the table. “Like, for example, nothing. Ever.”

You laughed as Jake scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, eyes darting to you.

“Chaewon unnie,” you said sweetly, “Jake’s helped me sneak ramen at two in the morning during our first world tour. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Chaewon scoffed, smirking. “We’ll see if it counts after he survives dinner.”

Jake laughed nervously, nodding. “That’s fair… I think.”

Still ever the gentleman, he reached out and pulled a chair for you first, waiting for you to sit down before settling into the one beside you.

You turned to him with a quiet “Thank you,” and he just offered you a soft smile—like everything was worth it just to sit beside you.

You both clasped your hands in a tiny, automatic gesture of prayer before digging in. The clinking of utensils and quiet hum of satisfied eating filled the room as the girls passed dishes around the table.

Jake, without a word, reached out and gently placed a spoonful of lasagna on your plate first, then added a few slices of grilled eggplant and your favorite salad topping. Only after your plate was full did he even think of serving himself.

Chaewon, from across the table, paused mid-chew. She stared. Narrowed her eyes. And then casually pointed her fork at Jake.

“Okay,” she said, “Approved. You can date my daughter.”

You choked on your water.

Jake blinked. “Oh—uh, thanks?”

Kazuha nearly dropped her fork from laughing. Yunjin let out a low whistle. “Didn’t think you’d fold that fast, unnie.”

Chaewon shrugged. “He served her before himself. I observe things.”

Jake grinned, finally putting food on his own plate. “I’ve been trying to earn your approval in my head for two years now. So… big win.”

“You’re still on probation,” Chaewon added.

Jake raised his glass. “Fair.”

Eunchae giggled from beside you. “Unnie, he really likes you.”

You turned pink and muttered, “I know…”

The room quieted for a second as everyone chewed on their food, the warm clatter of plates and utensils echoing softly around the dining space—until Chaewon, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly looked up from her plate.

“Wait,” she said, squinting at Jake like she just remembered something. “Don’t you have promotions tomorrow?”

Jake blinked, mouth still full, and slowly nodded.

You rolled your eyes fondly and answered for him, “Yeah. They just released their comeback two days ago, so they’re in full promo mode.”

Chaewon raised a brow, setting her fork down with a soft clink. “So why are you here and not, I don’t know, practicing? Or sleeping? Or doing your twelve-step skincare routine with Sunoo?”

Jake chuckled sheepishly, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “We already have everything prepped for this week. Plus, I’m heading out early tomorrow morning anyway.”

Yunjin tilted her head from the other end of the table. “Still, brave of you to spend the night in a dorm full of girls who could absolutely kick you in the ass for dating our member.”

Jake grinned, glancing at you. “Worth it.”

Chaewon gave him a pointed stare. “And?”

He set his utensils down and looked around the table for a moment before answering, sincere and clear. “Meeting you guys tonight was really important to me. She’s been in my life for two years… and I’ve met her family. It just felt right to meet hers, too.”

You tried to focus on your rice, but your cheeks betrayed you—glowing pink as Jake reached under the table to gently tap your hand with his.

“Well,” Sakura muttered with mock annoyance, “he’s charming. Great.”

“I know,” Kazuha sighed dramatically.

You tried not to smile too much, your heart fluttering like it was hearing him talk about you for the first time again. You picked up a new slice of lasagna and said softly, “Eat more, Jakey.”

Jake beamed at you and immediately obeyed, making everyone at the table burst into knowing laughter.

The clinking of dishes and the gentle hum of ‘TFW’ playing from someone’s speaker filled the quiet kitchen.

You stood at the sink, fingers slightly wrinkled from the warm water and soap bubbles, while Jake stood beside you with a clean towel in hand, drying each plate and placing it carefully into the dishwasher.

Jake let out a small breath, his eyes not leaving the glass in his hands. “You know…”

You hummed in question, not looking up from the last bowl you were rinsing.

“I’m really glad tonight went well,” he said quietly, drying the edge of a plate before setting it down.

You smiled, grabbing the towel and dabbing your wet hands on it before replying. “Well, it had to. I mean, they were always going to accept you, Jake. You’re you.”

He chuckled.

You leaned on the sink, tossing the washcloth onto the rack. “Plus, you’re already famous for being charming. That’s got to be, like, at least 60% of the battle.”

Jake laughed at that—low and breathy—and before you could turn around, you felt his arms snake around your waist. He pressed himself against your back, resting his chin on top of your head.

“I’m really lucky to have you,” he mumbled into your hair.

You smiled to yourself, cheeks warm as you reached up to hold onto his arms. “Even if we fight?”

He leaned back slightly as you turned around in his embrace, your back now against the edge of the sink as he boxed you in, hands still resting loosely around your waist. He tilted his head, a soft grin playing on his lips.

“Especially when we fight,” he teased, gently nudging your nose with his. “You look like a sad bunny when you’re mad. It’s kinda hard to take you seriously.”

You gasped, laughing as you pushed on his chest. “You’re unbelievable!”

“And yet,” Jake said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart, “you continue to love me. Tragic.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a laugh. “Tragic is right.”

But then he smiled—really smiled. That small, sweet curl of his lips that told you he wasn’t just joking anymore.

“I mean it, though,” he said. “Whatever happens with work, or promotions, or… whatever chaos we have to deal with—I’m still really, really glad I get to come home to this. To you.”

You let your hands rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“And I’m glad you’re here,” you whispered back.

Jake dipped his head and kissed you—gentle and unhurried, like there was no rush in the world.

You both lingered for a moment, eyes closed, foreheads still brushing before you slowly pulled away, sharing quiet, knowing smiles. The kind that said I love you without needing the words.

Wordlessly, you both turned back to the sink, finishing the last of the dishes in a rhythm that had become second nature.

Jake dried the last glass and stacked it neatly, while you wiped down the counter, tossing the cloth in the laundry bin tucked under the sink.

Just as you reached for the light switch, the sound of muffled footsteps filled the hallway—and in came your members, bundled in oversized coats, beanies, and masks, looking suspiciously like a group of spies ready for a mission.

You blinked at them. “Uh… Where are you guys going?”

Eunchae grinned beneath her white fleece bucket hat, nodding enthusiastically. “Convenience store! The one a few blocks down!”

Kazuha tugged her mask down slightly, eyes sparkling. “Chaewon-unnie said the new strawberry banana bread flavor just came out.”

Chaewon nodded proudly from the back, crossing her arms with mock authority. “Limited edition. We must investigate.”

You laughed, glancing at Jake beside you, who was already smiling—shoulders shaking in amusement at the chaotic yet endearing dynamic.

“You guys are such a unit,” he said under his breath, fondness written all over his face.

Sakura, who was zipping up her jacket, paused and looked at you. “You two want anything?”

You hummed, thinking for a second. “Yeah! That new sandwich with the cheese melt thing… and strawberry milk, please. I’ll pay later!”

Jake raised a brow, immediately shaking his head. “Double that. I’m paying.”

You gave him a playful glare, and he just winked at you in response.

“Got it!” Eunchae said, doing a little salute.

“We’ll lock the door behind us!” Yunjin added, already pulling it shut as they piled out one by one, Chaewon doing a headcount like a mom with her ducklings.

“Strawberry milk,” Kazuha repeated under her breath.

“And the sandwich!” Eunchae called before disappearing down the hall.

Jake laughed softly beside you as the door clicked shut. “You weren’t kidding when you said they’re your second family.”

You grinned, leaning against his side. “They’re my whole heart, actually.”

He slipped his hand into yours again, gently squeezing. “Yeah… I can see that.”

The apartment quieted again, save for the soft hum of the fridge and the faint echo of your playlist still looping from earlier.

The roar of Engenes filled the venue as the final notes of ‘One in a Billion’ echoed across the stage, the boys of ENHYPEN wrapping up their performance with flawless synchronicity.

You stood just off-stage, heart fluttering—not from nerves, but from the sight of Jake under the stage lights, shining like he was born for it.

“You good?” your stylist asked quickly, tugging your hair gently into place before stepping aside. You nodded, adjusting your mic pack with steady fingers, the anticipation building as your group was next to perform ‘Anti-Fragile.’

“Damn,” you muttered under your breath to Yunjin, eyes still locked on the stage. “They’re good.”

She laughed lightly, swaying to the fading melody. “Let’s not gas them up too much, we have to follow them.”

You both giggled as the cameras nearby continued to roll, capturing behind-the-scenes footage. Eunchae suddenly latched onto your bare waist, making you squeal and stumble slightly.

“Unnie,” she whined dramatically, her voice muffled as she hid behind your back, “I’m nervous for this comeback.”

You turned slightly, fixing her hair gently. “Don’t be. We’ve worked hard, and the fans are ready. We can do this.”

She nodded, eyes a little teary but determined.

Just then, the stage lights dimmed and the VCR began to play, signaling the transition. ENHYPEN began exiting, breathless but smiling, their in-ear pieces being pulled out as they walked your way.

Your members immediately straightened, Chaewon instinctively lining you all up in formation like the leader she was.

She bowed first. “Congratulations,” she said with practiced respect.

One by one, the boys bowed back. Sunghoon smiled and nodded. Sunoo gave Eunchae a small wave.

“Good luck,” Jake whispered to you as he passed, voice low and hidden beneath the noise of the crowd and crew, eyes meeting yours for a second longer than necessary.

Your heart did a full somersault, but you managed to smile through it, fingers adjusting the mic near your cheek to keep busy. “Thanks,” you whispered back, a little breathless.

He grinned—just the tiniest curve of his lips—before disappearing backstage with the others.

You blinked, grounding yourself. Focus. Stage time.

“Let’s go!” Chaewon called, and immediately, your group moved with muscle memory.

The spotlight began to rise.

Just a few doors down from the stage, in one of the private waiting rooms, Jake stood silently next to Ni-ki, both of them staring intently at the monitor on the wall.

The screen lit up with vibrant blues and deep blacks as the performance began—your group emerging with practiced intensity and poise.

Jake didn’t speak. He couldn’t. The moment you stepped into frame, center-left, he was already captivated.

You moved like second nature—confident, poised, every movement sharp and purposeful. And then came your solo line, one that ended with a subtle smirk and a teasing wink thrown directly into the camera.

Jake’s smile stretched, wide and utterly smitten.

Beside him, Ni-ki gave a small nod. “She’s killing it,” he muttered, arms crossed over his chest. “The choreo’s no joke.”

Jake didn’t reply immediately, still watching you with rapt attention. You twirled into center stage, your fitted black spaghetti-strap top catching the lights as your denim skirt fanned out slightly with each spin.

The crowd screamed louder as you took center, mic held up with confidence, voice crisp and full of attitude.

Jungwon stepped into the room then, a protein bar in one hand, casually joining them. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the screen. “I go to ride ’til I die, die,” he half-sang under his breath, nodding with a grin as your line came up.

Jake finally broke his silence with a soft, breathy laugh. “She’s unreal.”

Ni-ki leaned slightly toward him, eyebrow raised. “You’re gonna combust if you keep staring like that.”

Jake scoffed. “You’d combust too if your girlfriend looked that good on national TV.”

Jungwon chuckled. “Isn’t this torture for you? She’s out there serving stage presence while you’re stuck here trying not to look whipped.”

Jake ran a hand through his hair, eyes still glued to the monitor as you transitioned into your ending pose.

The crowd was screaming, the lights flared one last time, and there you were—front and center—forming a heart with your hands, your purple-highlighted hair shimmering beneath the spotlight.

Jungwon’s comment still lingered in the air, and Jake didn’t even try to hide the way he was smiling. He glanced toward the camera filming their waiting room and waved a hand toward it lazily.

“Cut that one out,” he said, half-joking but with a trace of real concern in his voice. “I don’t wanna get fired.”

A burst of laughter erupted from the staff nearby.

One of the camera operators grinned, flashing him a thumbs up. “Don’t worry, hyung. We’ll blur your face,” he teased.

“Too late for that,” Sunghoon quipped from the couch, legs kicked up, his phone in one hand and an unimpressed expression on his face. “You’ve already said too much.”

Heeseung didn’t even glance up as he added, “Honestly? I doubt they’d fire you. Our group’s practically funding the entire building right now.”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon agreed, crossing his arms behind his head. “They need us more than we need them.”

Jake sighed under his breath, lips twitching into a reluctant grin. “Yeah… you have a point.”

The room had gradually filled up—Sunoo now standing beside Ni-ki, arms folded across his chest, nodding along to the beat still playing from the hallway speakers.

“Wow,” Sunoo murmured, eyes fixed on the screen. “Noona looks really good tonight.”

Jake hummed in agreement as the monitor shifted—your ending pose freezing for a second before it cut to the substitute MCs waving to the audience. You were clearly busy with promotions, too tied up to close the show like usual.

“Can’t believe she’s not up there with the mic,” Jungwon said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “You’re slacking, hyung.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Blame her manager. Not me.”

“Blame you for not volunteering to co-MC before Jisung-sunbaenim,” Sunghoon chimed in, smirking.

Jake smiled despite himself, watching the replay of your ending fairy again as it looped quietly on the screen. “Nah. She shines just fine without me.”

Sunoo tilted his head. “That’s kinda romantic.”

Jake shrugged, still watching. “That’s kinda the truth.”

“Hopeless,” Sunghoon muttered, tossing a pillow at him.

Just then, Jungwon plopped onto the couch beside Sunghoon, his posture slouchy as he reached for the half-empty water bottle on the coffee table.

“Alright, break’s over,” he sighed, tone lighter but his words already sounding like business. “We’ve got a few months to plan for our MAMA performance.”

That got everyone’s attention.

Heeseung looked up from his phone. “Oh, right. That—plus the special ones they added.”

Jake finally turned his gaze away from the screen. “Which one are you talking about?”

“The KBS Entertainment Awards,” Heeseung answered, nodding toward their manager, who was already scrolling through the calendar on a tablet.

Jungwon nodded. “Yeah, that one. They confirmed it last night—we’re doing a joint performance with the other HYBE groups.”

Sunoo’s eyes sparkled. “Wait, does that mean we’ll probably do that mashup stage again?”

Ni-ki leaned forward, brows furrowed in curiosity. “Which concept are we pushing? Classic? Or do they want us to go full experimental again?”

Their second manager chimed in from the side, eyes scanning the notes on their device. “Still being finalized. But the producer wants something memorable. Something iconic. You’re one of the ending acts, so they expect impact.”

“Of course they do,” Sunghoon muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples. “When don’t they?”

Jake leaned back, tossing a pillow behind his head. “So what’s left for now?”

Their main manager, standing closest to Jungwon, tapped a few checkboxes on her tablet. “We’ve still got Music Core this weekend, the radio interviews lined up next week, and your YouTube schedule to finish. Then rehearsal season starts full force.”

Jungwon groaned. “Guess that means goodbye to free time.”

Ni-ki flopped over the armrest of the couch. “I didn’t even get to download that new game yet.”

Sunoo gave him a light flick on the forehead. “Focus, Riki.”

Jake just quietly nodded, eyes scanning the calendar before asking, “Will we be rehearsing at HYBE or the KBS studios?”

“Both,” their manager replied. “Alternating schedules depending on which stage needs polishing.”

Heeseung glanced at Jake. “Better tell your girl to stock up on throat lozenges. With how things are looking, she’ll be rehearsing just as much as us.”

Jake chuckled, gaze softening a bit. “She’ll be fine. She's kind of unstoppable like that.”

This was going to be one hell of a comeback season.

The overhead lights buzzed softly as you held tightly onto Chaewon’s hand, the familiar gray-walled hallways of HYBE feeling more like a runway to your doom.

The camera following behind you captured every twitch of your brow, every deep breath, every fidget of your fingers gripping your water bottle.

Kazuha giggled beside you, looping her arm with Eunchae’s as she tilted her head at your nervous expression. “What’s wrong? You look like you're about to walk into a war.”

You shot her a look. “We’re collabing with ENHYPEN and TXT. What about this situation isn’t terrifying?”

Yunjin, who was walking just behind you, mumbled. “You’re literally dating one of them.”

“That’s exactly why I’m terrified,” you mumbled under your breath.

The six of you slowed in front of one of the biggest and most high-tech practice rooms in the building. The door stood tall and ominous in front of you like the gates of heaven… or hell.

Chaewon inhaled deeply beside you, squared her shoulders, and gave your hand a light squeeze before knocking twice.

“Here we go,” Sakura muttered.

The door creaked open.

Immediately, a flood of voices greeted you. “Hi!” “Oh, they’re here!” “Hello, Le Sserafim!”

Your group stepped inside slowly, bowing instinctively as the familiar faces of ENHYPEN and TXT turned toward you from across the polished wooden floor.

Most of them were stretching or adjusting their mics, water bottles scattered around like it was already halfway through practice.

Huening Kai grinned widely and jogged over first. “Finally! We were wondering when you’d show up,” he said, waving enthusiastically at you before offering Eunchae a playful fist bump.

Yeonjun spun around dramatically, throwing his arms in the air. “They’re here! The queens have arrived!” he announced, sending giggles through your members.

Eunchae shyly waved back at Ni-ki, who smiled at her from across the room.

Jay stood next to Sunghoon, fixing his hair in the mirror but paused when you entered. “Took you long enough,” he joked, sending a brief nod toward Chaewon.

You gave a small bow and forced a smile, eyes scanning the room instinctively.

Jake was there, leaning against the wall, hair pulled back in a cap and wearing a sleeveless black tee that clung to him in all the right places. He gave you a small smile from across the room and mouthed a soft, “You’re okay?”

You nodded slightly in return, heart thudding in your chest.

“Alright,” Soobin clapped his hands. “Shall we get started?”

Jungwon clapped his hands with a bright, “Alright, alright—find your spots, window style! Let’s get stretching!”

Everyone moved at once, bodies shuffling into lines, the room buzzing with casual chatter and the squeaks of sneakers on polished hardwood.

The long mirror across the wall reflected the familiar chaos of multi-group collabs: TXT in the far left row, ENHYPEN in the middle, and Le Sserafim forming a line behind them.

You found yourself stretching behind Jake and Sunoo, both already halfway into toe touches. Sunoo turned and beamed at you, waving with both hands like you hadn’t just seen each other two days ago.

“Hi noona! You’re behind us, yay!” he said, cheeks puffed with joy.

You chuckled and nodded, leaning to one side in a hamstring stretch. “Guess I have the best view, huh?”

Jake, still bent over touching his toes, glanced at you through the mirror with a sly smirk. “If you’re lucky, you might see me fall on my face during Growl.”

“You won’t,” you said simply, voice soft but sure.

“Let’s hope,” he muttered back, cheeks tinting pink.

On the other side of the room, Taehyun casually threw an arm over Jungwon’s shoulder. “Look at you, bossing us around like a true leader. So scary.”

Jungwon gave him a withering look, pushing his arm off with an embarrassed smile. “Hyung, I’m literally just trying to make sure no one pulls a muscle.”

“That’s what they all say before they become stage tyrants,” Yeonjun teased from his spot on the floor.

The choreographers moved toward the front, clipboard and iPad in hand as one of them called out, “Alright, eyes up!”

Everyone looked forward.

“So, for this special stage collab, we’re running through the classics. We’ve split each section by groups, but you’ll all dance together during transitions. Here’s the setlist.”

Another choreographer pulled the list up on the screen behind them.

You heard your members behind you murmuring in awe, and Eunchae nudged your side. “Unnie… are we seriously doing 10 Minutes?”

You stifled a laugh. “Good luck with that hair flip.”

“Alright,” the main choreographer spoke again, clapping their hands once to get everyone’s attention. “TXT will start with Candy.”

“ENHYPEN follows with The Way This Guy Lives by SECHSKIES,” another choreographer added, glancing at the boys through the mirror. “Then TXT jumps in for Bad Man.”

The third choreographer, flipping through a clipboard, nodded. “ENHYPEN will cover Come Back To Me next.”

“Le Sserafim, you’re handling 10 Minutes and Tell Me,” the first choreographer said, eyes meeting yours through the mirror. “You’ve got the energy for it.”

“We’ll bring everyone together for Mirotic and BANG BANG BANG,” the second one continued.

“Then split My House and Who’s Your Mama between male and female idols,” the third choreographer added with a quick clap.

“And finally,” the first choreographer finished, “everyone regroups for Growl and FIRE to close the show. Got it?”

Soobin let out a low whistle. “That’s a hell of a setlist.”

“You’re telling me,” Jay muttered.

Heeseung ran a hand down his face like he was mentally preparing to be eighty by the time this rehearsal ended.

Ni-ki, seated on the floor nearby, let out a wheezy laugh at the older’s expression, practically falling backward in amusement.

Across the room, Yunjin groaned dramatically and leaned against Kazuha for support, whining, “Why is this setlist built like a death wish? Who planned this?”

“HYBE,” Kazuha deadpanned.

You sighed, catching the chaos unfold around you as Jake leaned closer from where he was stretching beside you. His voice was low, careful, mindful of the camera panning lazily from idol to idol. “You ready?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not even close.”

Sunoo, perched crisscross beside Ni-ki with a towel around his neck, raised his hand like he was agreeing with a teacher in class. “Me too,” he said cheerfully. “We’re gonna die beautifully.”

The choreographers clapped their hands twice again, calling for attention. “Okay, places everyone!”

You exhaled slowly, fingers adjusting your crop top, giving it a final tug as you caught Yunjin’s eye through the mirror. She straightened beside you, nodding once. No words were needed—you were both in your element now.

A glint of determination flickered in your gaze as you rolled your shoulders back, eyes zeroing in on your spot. The countdown began.

Oh, you were so ready to kill this stage.

It was the third week of practice, and you were clinging to the last sliver of sanity you had left.

You groaned into your hand, voice muffled as the heavy bass of ‘Who’s Your Mama’ blasted from the speakers. Jake, standing next to you with a wide grin, quickly reached out to grab your water bottle before it could spill from your loosened grip.

“Careful,” he said with a laugh, holding it out of your reach like he didn’t just save your life. “I’d rather not be dancing in sticky strawberry water.”

Beomgyu, who was across from you, absolutely lost it at your expression, clutching his knees as he laughed. “You look like you just saw your GPA after midterms.”

Taehyun was beside him, calmly sipping his iced coffee like he wasn’t also sweating through his shirt. “Honestly though, same.”

“I’m not made for this kind of choreography!” you cried, groaning louder this time as you leaned forward with your hands on your knees. “Who thought this was a good idea?! I feel like a hormonal teenager trying to impress her P.E. crush!”

Yunjin, standing next to Jay, snorted so hard she nearly dropped her mic pack. “You should’ve seen your face during the chorus, oh my god—”

Jake placed a hand on your shoulder, his tone mock-serious. “(Y/N), come back to us. Stay strong. Don’t let your thoughts consume you.”

Heeseung wheezed, half-bent from laughter. “You’re so dramatic for someone who literally looked cool five seconds ago.”

Behind you, Ni-ki and Eunchae fist-bumped like they’d just won a bet. “Told you she’d break by week three,” Ni-ki whispered.

Meanwhile, Sakura, who was standing beside Yeonjun, leaned in and murmured, “At this rate, those two are going to get caught in no time.”

Yeonjun didn’t look away from the mirror, lips twitching. “Jake’s not even hiding it. He’s gone.”

Off to the side, Kazuha and Soobin sat near the wall with their water bottles, the former giggling into her sleeve while Soobin casually stretched. “I give her one more day before she walks out,” Kazuha teased.

“I give Jake one more day before he breaks the no-dating rule,” Soobin added, sipping dramatically.

You flailed slightly as the music started up again, swiping your water bottle back from Jake and muttering, “If I survive this, I’m never letting anyone make me dance to JYP again.”

Jake just grinned, stepping into position as he threw you a wink. “You love it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I love you, not this.”

“That’s fair.”

It was the night of the KBS Entertainment Awards, and to say you were nervous would’ve been the biggest understatement of the year.

You could barely hear your own thoughts over the blaring bass of ‘Come Back to Me’ echoing through the stage monitors. Your group stood off to the side of the massive stage, just behind the heavy curtains—watching as ENHYPEN performed their hearts out under the golden lights.

And there he was.

Jake.

Blonde hair tousled just the right amount, dressed in a crisp white shirt that shimmered under the light, layered beneath a faded denim jacket that framed his shoulders perfectly, as he sang the chorus with that same intensity you fell for years ago.

His movements were sharp, calculated—effortless. But his eyes searched the crowd like he was singing to someone in particular.

And you had a good guess who.

“Hold still,” your stylist murmured beside you, dabbing a final streak of glitter on your cheekbone, brushing over your skin like stardust. “You’re up in five.”

You gave a nervous nod, fingers tightening around the edge of your pink mesh scarf, the soft fabric crinkling in your grip as the countdown began on the stage manager’s fingers.

Behind you, the unmistakable beat of ‘10 Minutes’ began to play.

You breathed in.

And then turned.

The second you pivoted to face the audience, center stage, your nerves evaporated like they were never there.

A smirk tugged at your lips as your eyes met Yunjin’s across the line. She mirrored it instantly. This was your zone. This was your power.

Your pink tube top, paired with a sleek black miniskirt, hugged your figure perfectly. The mesh scarf draped dramatically off your arms, and your pink heels clicked against the glossy stage floor with every step you took. You owned the moment.

The intro rang out, sultry and commanding—and your voice followed, smooth and sure as you sang the opening lines, hips swaying confidently to the beat. Your eyes never left the camera, trained on it with teasing winks and fierce gazes as if daring the nation to look away.

Backstage, just out of the spotlight, Jake watched.

He didn’t blink.

“She’s insane,” he muttered, voice low as he leaned toward Heeseung, eyes transfixed. “Like… unreal.”

Heeseung glanced at him with a knowing smile. “You’ve got it bad.”

Jake didn’t even deny it.

Because there you were, commanding the stage in pink and black like it was your birthright—your confidence radiating through every wink, every strut, every flawless note.

And as you twirled on cue, scarf fluttering like flame behind you, Jake could only exhale, heart caught in his throat.

He was falling in love with you all over again.

Jake’s trance was broken the moment the crowd erupted in cheers, the sound thundering through the venue just as your face flashed across the backstage monitor.

The screen lit up with your wink and smirk from the final beat of 10 Minutes, your figure vanishing into the shadows just as TXT began filing out onto the stage for their turn.

Staff members buzzed past, clapping their clipboards and complimenting you as you jogged toward the back, breath still heavy and skin glittering under the stage lights.

Jake stood just off to the side, waiting near one of the pillars with a massive grin on his face, hands shoved in the pockets of his denim jacket.

You grinned back at him, cheeks warm with adrenaline, and sent him a thumbs-up as your stylist tugged at your arm with a breathless, “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s change!”

Jake’s smile lingered until a firm clap landed on his shoulder.

“Let’s move, loverboy,” Jay said, smirking. “You’ll see your girlfriend again in a few minutes. We need to change before the finale.”

Jake rolled his eyes but allowed himself to be dragged, glancing once more over his shoulder in the direction you disappeared. “Yeah, yeah… I’m going.”

The boys ducked into the makeshift changing tents set up behind the curtain, and at the same time, you were already slipping into your next outfit with quick, practiced ease.

Your stylist buttoned the last clasp on your blouse and handed you a mic belt as you stepped into the light, now in a soft pink plaid skirt and matching button-up blouse. A glittery ribbon sparkled at your chest, hair fluffed and curled to perfection again.

You turned to your right and nudged Sakura, who was tugging at her pink tie in front of the mirror with furrowed brows.

“This is giving Produce48, tell me I’m wrong,” you teased with a breathless laugh.

Sakura let out a dramatic sigh, “Don’t remind me,”

Yunjin groaned as she flipped her hair behind her shoulder, still adjusting her in-ear. “I’m getting trauma, actually.”

“Why does it feel like we’re about to do another audition?” Eunchae whispered, pulling her lip balm from her pocket and quickly applying it.

Kazuha giggled from beside you, patting the hem of her skirt. “Because we kinda are—but this time with better lighting and Jake-sunbaenim watching.”

You turned red. “Can we not mention my boyfriend every five minutes?” you grumbled.

“Oh no, we definitely can,” Yunjin smirked, “especially with how he looked like he was gonna pass out during your solo part.”

The girls erupted into soft laughter, the buzz of nerves momentarily replaced by shared joy and chaotic teasing.

Your manager peeked in, “Three minutes, girls.”

Everyone nodded.

The lights shifted, casting soft pink and purple hues across the stage as the intro to ‘Tell Me’ by Wonder Girls began to play. You and the rest of Le Sserafim took center once again, bright smiles plastered on your faces as you mimicked the iconic choreography with your own flair.

The audience screamed as you winked playfully during your solo part, fingers forming a heart before flipping your hair in sync with Yunjin and Sakura.

From the sidelines, TXT and ENHYPEN—already changed into their all-black outfits—cheered wildly, bouncing along to the beat and mimicking the moves half-seriously.

You could hear Beomgyu yell, “Go (Y/N)!” from offstage, making you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing on camera.

Then the beat shifted—‘BANG BANG BANG’ roared through the speakers, the lights cutting harsh and dramatic. ENHYPEN and TXT stormed the stage like they owned it, every move sharp and powerful as they delivered the fierce performance.

You and your members stood at the side, clapping and yelling just like the crowd, some of you even jumping in time with the beat.

You screamed, cupping your hands around your mouth, “Let’s go, Ni-ki!”

Eunchae beside you jumped up and down while cheering, “Yeah, Ni-ki-sunbaenim!”

The moment the final gunshot sound effect rang out and the stage lights dimmed again, a staff member grabbed your arm gently.

“(Y/N), you’re next. Quick change!”

You were pulled toward the styling area, still catching your breath, as stylists worked around you in record time.

Your glittery bow outfit was gone in seconds, swapped for sleek white shorts, a low-cut white blouse with soft bishop sleeves and a delicate silk bow tied in the middle. White boots zipped up your calves while your hair was tugged into a half-updo, a matching white bow clipped securely on top.

“Three minutes,” someone called, just as you were guided back toward the stage entrance.

Jake stood there already waiting, dressed in cream pants and a slightly sheer white button-up with a ribbon detail mirroring yours—subtle, but coordinated. His sleeves were rolled up, veins peeking out, sweat still lingering from their last stage.

He looked at you with a crooked smile. “Look at us. Matching like a couple at prom.”

You snorted softly. “Only one of us gets to wear heels though.”

Jake grinned and leaned in just slightly. “You pull them off better.”

The lights dimmed again, and the opening instrumental of ‘My House’ started to build.

From beside you, Sunoo cupped his hands around his mouth and cheered dramatically, “Let’s do this!”

Ni-ki whistled beside him, while Jungwon and Sunghoon grinned, already in formation a few steps ahead.

You shared a smile with Eunchae as she moved behind Jungwon, her hands fidgeting slightly as she whispered, “You look so cool, unnie…”

You winked at her in return. “Let’s kill this, okay?”

Chaewon, composed and charismatic as always, stood next to Sunoo—her eyes flickering to you briefly. She gave you a short, approving nod like a leader proud of her kid.

You smiled, then turned your focus to center stage.

Jake was already there, hands tucked into the pockets of his cream trousers, head tilted slightly with a sly smile on his face. You took your place beside him, heart beating in rhythm with the intro beat.

The two of you moved in sync, slow sways and confident strides as the choreography began. You didn’t need to overthink it. The sultry tempo carried you both.

Jake’s hand skimmed the air near your waist at one point, but never touched. The tension was part of the performance, and both of you knew how to sell it without giving anything away.

The bridge hit, and the choreography called for a switch—you and Jake trading places smoothly. He reached out, fingers brushing your wrist as he guided you behind him. You caught the glint of his smile under the stage lights as he whispered, “Come here.”

You followed, stepping into place just as the camera panned in for the final pose.

Jake stood behind you, his hand outstretched as you turned, fingertips grazing before striking the last beat with matching smirks—his hand pointed at the imaginary ‘front door’ the lyrics referenced, your head tilted just right with a playful smile.

The crowd screamed louder as the lights cut.

A staff member backstage waved at you to start moving—“Let’s go! Get ready for Growl!”

You grabbed your in-ears, heart still pounding as you rushed with your members to line up with TXT and ENHYPEN once more.

‘Growl’ was a blur of fluid transitions and charged energy—shoulders bumping, eyes catching in mirrors, and a sea of cheers that didn’t seem to quiet down for even a second.

And before you even had time to catch your breath—

“Last change! Who’s Your Mama! Let’s go!” your stylist shouted as she shoved a final hanger into your hands.

Your last outfit: a fitted black long-sleeve crop top that clung like a second skin, glittering subtly under the harsh dressing room lights. Paired with black sequin shorts and heeled boots, it was the most playful and risqué set of the night—and somehow your members were in nearly identical pieces, all tailored to perfection. Unity, but with bite.

Meanwhile, the boys who were performing beside you had also been thrown into their final looks—black blazers, black slacks, silver detailing along their cuffs.

Jake stood out even among them, his sleeves rolled slightly, hair tousled and pushed back in a way that made your stylist mumble, “I’d kill to be twenty again.”

You met eyes with him in the mirror as you applied your gloss. He raised his brows and mouthed, “Ready?”

You nodded once, slowly.

The second the beat of ‘Who’s Your Mama’ hit, the crowd erupted. Screams layered with cheers, fans recognizing that unmistakable bassline and chorus call-out before the first line was even sung.

You strutted onto the stage alongside your members, each of you walking in sync, hips swaying to the rhythm as lights flickered behind you in sultry strobes. Jake took his place beside you, the two of you placed center—too close for idols that were supposedly strangers, too electric not to notice.

You turned, your back facing the audience, and Jake—perfectly timed—stepped up behind you. His hands never touched you, but they hovered. Traced.

Down your arms, around your waist, stopping just shy of contact. Like a shadow or a silhouette.

It was choreography. Just choreography.

But the fans lost their minds.

You could hear a few screams turn feral as your smirk broke through and your eyes caught the camera. You tossed a look over your shoulder, catching Jake’s gaze. He bit back a grin, knowing exactly what he was doing—and what you were both about to get flamed for online.

The moment passed too quickly.

The beat of ‘FIRE’ suddenly blasted from the speakers as the lights cut out—blinding red beams slicing through smoke machines.

Someone shoved a black blazer into your arms mid-transition as staff pulled open the back curtains. You quickly slid it on, leaving the crop top beneath barely buttoned beneath the jacket. Heeseung took center, mic hot, eyes sharp, and voice deep as he delivered the iconic intro—

“It’s burning up.”

He threw his blazer back as fireworks burst across the stage and the floor vibrated beneath your boots.

You were panting—lungs burning, hair clinging to your neck with sweat, the adrenaline still rushing in your veins as you and Jake locked eyes for a brief second.

He grinned wide, chest heaving. You smiled back, still catching your breath, and the moment was fleeting before the wave of chaos returned.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” your stylist called over the music, already tugging at your sleeve to guide you toward the wings. Behind you, managers and stage directors were clapping, voices overlapping in excited praise.

“You all did amazing,” one of the head stylists beamed, handing you a towel. “Get your coats on, we’re heading back to the idol section before they start announcing the next category!”

“(Y/N), drink water, now,” your manager instructed sternly, already unscrewing the bottle cap for you.

Jake appeared beside you, now with his hair pushed back and blazer draped over one shoulder as he ruffled his bangs. “That was insane,” he exhaled, still breathless.

“Dude,” Sunghoon chimed in from behind, clapping Jake’s back. “You looked like you were about to jump into another dimension.”

Jake only laughed in response, shameless. “I was just in character.”

The golden spotlight caught the shimmer of your black gown as the camera briefly panned in your direction—long, flowy and cinched perfectly at the waist, with a slit running high on your thigh that added just the right amount of drama.

Your skin glowed under the soft lights, eyeshadow sparkling with hints of pink and gold, lips glossed to perfection. Your hair cascaded down your back like a curtain of midnight, strands framing your face delicately.

You offered a graceful wave, smile poised and elegant, posture straight as your hand rose in greeting.

Next to you, Chaewon leaned slightly into frame and mirrored your wave, wearing a pale champagne dress that glittered under the lights. “Smile, they’re panning,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

“I am,” you muttered back with a practiced smile still plastered on your face. “But I swear, if they caught me chewing just now…”

She snorted quietly as the camera moved back to the hosts. “They definitely did. Munching on that cheese cube like it was your last meal.”

You turned to her, eyes wide. “It was a good cheese cube, okay?”

“Sure,” she laughed softly, adjusting her shawl as the awards continued. “Oh—wait. Isn’t that the guy from The Moonlight Palace?”

Your eyes snapped to the screen as the male actor took the stage. “Oh my god, yes. I loved him in that. Didn’t he cry in the rain for like fifteen minutes?”

“Yes!” she whispered, clutching your wrist. “That scene made me sob.”

You giggled, still clapping politely as he gave his acceptance speech. “You know I almost auditioned for that drama, right?”

“No way.”

“Yeah, they had us read the scene where the girl chooses her duty over love. But I was in Japan for a show, so I couldn’t follow through.”

Chaewon stared at you in mock offense. “You could’ve been a royal princess?! Wasted potential!”

You shrugged with a smile. “I became a pop princess instead. Not too bad.”

Behind you, you could hear faint murmurs—Heeseung saying something about the last speech being way too long, and Soobin asking if they were going to feed them again before the final segment. Yeonjun made a sarcastic joke that made Sunghoon snort behind his hand.

You reached for your water glass as another award was announced—this time for Best OST. Chaewon whispered, “Ten bucks says it’s from that high school drama with the ghosts.”

You gave her a knowing smirk. “If it’s the one where the ghost falls in love with the student council president, then absolutely.”

The two of you burst into soft giggles when it actually was that drama. TXT applauded loudly behind you as the OST singer climbed the stage.

Just then, the camera panned past your table again for a crowd shot, and this time, you leaned slightly to the side so you could wave and smile—charming but cool, radiating elegance without trying too hard.

The lights dimmed slightly as the hosts returned to center stage, cue cards in hand and smiles wide.

“And now…” one of them said, their voice rising with excitement, “we’re getting into slightly controversial territory.”

You glanced at Chaewon beside you, both of you raising your brows. She leaned in, whispering, “Controversial? Is this the award where people start fighting on Twitter after?”

You stifled a laugh, covering your mouth. “Probably. Why do I feel like we’re about to get dragged into it?”

The hosts continued, chuckling softly to themselves as they exchanged looks. “This next award celebrates chemistry. The kind of chemistry that makes the audience question if it’s really just acting.”

Chaewon blinked at you. “Oh no. It’s the couple award, isn’t it?”

“Please no,” you whispered back, just as the host confirmed it with a grin.

“That’s right! This year’s Best Onscreen Couple goes to…” Dramatic pause. “…(Y/N) of LE SSERAFIM and Park Jisung of NCT Dream, for their run as MCs of Music Bank!”

Your mouth opened slightly in shock. “Wait, what?”

The crowd erupted into cheers, some laughter, and a few surprised gasps.

The second host chuckled, gesturing toward the two of you. “These two have shown incredible chemistry over the past few months—witty banter, effortless teamwork, and an undeniable charm that’s made Music Bank even more fun to watch.”

The first host added with a grin, “They’ve kept fans laughing, swooning, and sometimes questioning if they were really just MCs.”

You stared at the stage, mouth slightly open in disbelief as your members howled around you.

You blinked, slowly rising from your seat, trying not to trip in your heels as the camera panned back to your table.

You gave a polite smile, bowing slightly as you made your way toward the stage, heart hammering as you could feel the eyes of not just the room—but millions—watching.

At the top of the stairs, Jisung was already there, holding out his hand with a nervous smile. You hesitated for a split second—not because of him, but because you could feel every camera zooming in on that exact moment. But manners were manners.

So, you took his hand.

He helped you onto the stage, and together you walked toward the podium amidst thundering applause, lights blinding and the occasional shout of your ship name piercing through the crowd.

Meanwhile, at the table, things weren’t quite as calm.

Sunghoon side-eyed Jake, whose expression was… too composed. Too quiet. He sat straight, arms crossed over his lap, lips pressed into a line as he stared dead ahead at the stage.

“Dude…” Sunghoon muttered. “You okay?”

Jake didn’t answer. His jaw was tight.

Sunoo sighed, reaching for his water. “Not this again.”

Heeseung, from the other end of the table, leaned in and nudged Jake with his elbow. “You’ve got every right to be jealous, man.”

“I’m not jealous,” Jake said, eyes never leaving the screen. “I just think it's funny how I’ve been dating her for two years and now some random award’s pairing her up with someone else.”

Ni-ki winced at the sharpness in his voice, slowly leaning back into his chair. “Hyung… you’re not really fooling anyone.”

Soobin, who had been silently sipping water beside them, nodded in agreement. “It’s literally written all over your face.”

Jake didn’t say anything for a second. Just exhaled slowly, shoulders falling as he kept his gaze on the massive LED screen above the stage—your face glowing under the lights, a soft, practiced smile on your lips as the camera zoomed in.

Next to you, Jisung stepped up to the mic, waving a little before speaking. “Wow, uh… honestly, we didn’t expect this at all. Being Music Bank MCs with (Y/N) has been really fun—she’s smart, quick, and always looks out for me behind the scenes. So… thank you for this. We’ll keep working hard!”

You adjusted the mic and bowed lightly before speaking, your tone warm and graceful. “Thank you so much. Being an MC has been a challenge, but doing it with Jisung made it easier. I’m really grateful to the Music Bank team for trusting us and to all the fans who tuned in each week. This is unexpected but really special, so thank you again.”

The crowd roared with applause, a few whistles mixed in as you both stepped down from the stage.

Jake let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as you reappeared on screen returning to your table, trophy in hand, members already teasing you playfully as you laughed it off.

“She looked happy,” Soobin said gently, glancing over.

“She did,” Jake agreed softly. “She always does when she’s working.”

Ni-ki leaned forward, glancing at him curiously. “You okay?”

Jake let out a short, bitter laugh—one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” he said, voice too light, too tight.

But his gaze lingered.

Because just then, you looked back. Only for a second—but long enough.

Long enough to find him in the crowd, sitting there behind your table, behind all the glittering lights and all the faces you’d grown used to scanning.

Your eyes met his, and the easy smile on your lips faltered—just slightly.

And Jake, despite the churning heat in his chest, forced one back. A soft, reassuring curve of his lips. Nothing too loud, nothing too heavy. Just enough to reassure you.

You blinked slowly, then turned back to Chaewon beside you, placing the trophy on the table as you leaned in to say something, smiling again.

Jake exhaled, leaned back in his seat, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Totally fine,” he mumbled under his breath.

The elevator doors closed with a soft ding, the golden glow of the hotel’s mood lighting reflecting off the mirrored walls as a quiet hum of motion filled the space.

You let out a deep breath, leaning tiredly against Jake’s chest. His arm was draped around you, firm but distant.

You tilted your head slightly to look up at him, but his gaze was fixed ahead. Silent. Tense.

The exhaustion of the night pressed heavier against your shoulders. The performances. The awards. The camera flashes. The endless smiles.

And now, this.

“…I didn’t think we’d win that award,” you said quietly, trying to fill the silence, eyes on the glowing numbers climbing slowly with each floor.

Jake didn’t answer. Not at first. He just hummed. Low. Dismissive.

You sighed, pushing off his chest just slightly, putting a bit of distance between your bodies. “Jake, don’t do that.”

His jaw ticked.

And then, finally, he spoke—voice quiet but tight, laced with the kind of restraint that told you he’d been thinking about it all night.

“I’m not jealous,” he muttered, eyes still glued to the changing floor number.

“…But I am mad.”

You blinked, the words hitting harder than they should’ve.

He continued before you could respond.

“I know it’s just a show award. I know it doesn’t mean anything. But watching you hold someone else’s hand and smile like that—knowing it had to be him, knowing you had to act like that while I sat there pretending it didn’t bother me?” His voice cracked slightly at the end before he swallowed it down. “It sucked.”

You stayed silent, watching his reflection in the mirrored wall. The way his brows were slightly furrowed. The way his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked… tired.

Hurt.

“I didn’t want it,” you said softly. “The award, I mean. Not like that. I was just as surprised.”

Jake glanced at you finally. Eyes unreadable. “You still took his hand.”

“I had to. It’s… it’s just media etiquette, Jake.”

“And I get that,” he said. “I do. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t sting.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Because what could you say? He was right.

“…I looked for you,” you said after a pause. “When I got up there. I looked back, hoping you’d see I wasn’t comfortable. That it wasn’t real.”

Jake sighed, leaning back against the elevator wall as the numbers neared your floor.

“I saw,” he admitted. “That’s the only reason I didn’t walk out.”

You stepped toward him then, fingers curling around the edge of his jacket.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. “But it’s just you. It’s always been just you.”

Jake stilled.

For a second, it was like the world paused with him—air tight, chest frozen, eyes locked on you like you’d just set something in motion he couldn’t take back. Then, slowly, his gaze flickered down to your lips. Once. Twice. And that was all it took.

He surged forward.

Your gasp was swallowed by the way his mouth crashed into yours, one hand finding your waist while the other curled behind your head, fingers sliding into your hair as if he’d been dying to touch you like this.

You clutched the front of his button-up shirt—creased and still faintly warm from stage lights—fingers curling in desperation, steadying yourself against him as your knees weakened at the sheer intensity.

His mouth moved against yours like a man starved.

Then his tongue brushed the seam of your lips, slow, deliberate, asking.

You opened for him—just a little, just enough.

And he groaned, low and quiet in the back of his throat, like the taste of you was everything he’d been trying so hard to forget.

The kiss deepened, rougher now, full of everything unspoken—every secret glance, every rehearsed smile, every time your pinkies brushed under a table during a shared schedule.

His hand splayed over your hip, tugging you closer until there was no space left between you, and all you could do was melt.

You moaned softly into his mouth, and Jake pulled back just an inch, forehead resting against yours as his chest heaved.

“You can’t say things like that and expect me to stay sane,” he whispered, voice wrecked, lips still brushing yours.

“I don’t want you to stay sane,” you whispered back. “I want you.”

The elevator dinged.

Jake didn’t even glance up. He grabbed your waist, careful of the slit in your black gown and the long trail behind you, and muttered a quick “Come on,” before tugging you out into the hallway like a man possessed. His hand never left your body, guiding you through the corridor with tunnel vision, jaw clenched, breaths uneven.

You barely had time to look around before he fished his key card from the inner pocket of his blazer, cursing softly when it caught on the lining.

“Manager-hyung really pulled through,” he mumbled—half in disbelief, half in gratitude—as the light on the suite door blinked green.

Then the door clicked open.

And before you could take a step inside, Jake had you.

He kicked the door shut behind you and immediately pressed you against it, his lips finding yours again with a hunger that stole the air from your lungs.

Your back hit the wood with a soft thud, your fingers already reaching for the buttons of his shirt, heart racing in your chest as his blazer slid off and hit the floor.

“You’re driving me insane,” he muttered between kisses, his mouth trailing along your jaw, down to your neck, where he nipped just below your ear. “You looked like sin walking across that red carpet tonight. Like you knew I wouldn’t be able to hold back.”

“I didn’t,” you breathed, fingers finally popping open the third button as your other hand tangled in his hair. “But I was hoping.”

Jake groaned, the sound had been ripped straight from his chest. His hands were everywhere now: gripping your hips, sliding along the exposed skin of your thigh, curling around your waist like he didn’t know where to touch first.

The kiss turned messier, hotter, as your bodies molded together between silk and heat and tension that had been building for far too long.

“Say it again,” he whispered, lips brushing your cheek as his breath fanned over your skin.

You looked up at him, eyes half-lidded, fingers still working at his shirt until it hung open, skin warm and golden beneath the soft hotel lights.

“I want you, Jake,” you said. “I want all of you.”

He kissed you then—hard, deep, possessive—as if the words had undone whatever restraint he had left.

And this time, when he pulled away, his eyes were darker, voice rasped and low as he whispered: “Then let me give you everything.”

His lips were on you before you could reply—pressing soft, heated kisses to your neck, collarbone, and the curve of your shoulder as you stumbled toward the bed together, wrapped in half-buttoned silk and quiet gasps.

You barely made it to the edge before Jake’s hands found your hips, pushing you down with a low, breathless laugh against your skin.

“God, you’re gonna ruin me,” he murmured, brushing a thumb along the side of your jaw as he hovered over you—shirt hanging open, lip gloss smudged across his throat from your earlier kisses.

Your back hit the mattress, and Jake followed, kissing down your body with a growing urgency—hot, slow, intentional—as if he needed to memorize every inch. His hands moved with him, one slipping down your side, the other reaching for the zipper hidden at your waist.

You felt the soft zip of your gown coming undone, your breath catching as the cool air met your flushed skin.

“Lift up for me,” Jake whispered, tapping your hip gently.

He slid the gown off your body in one careful motion, letting it fall with a soft shhhk onto the floor—and then he froze.

His breath hitched, lips parted as his gaze slowly dragged down your body. Black lace hugged your curves perfectly, delicate and soft and dangerous in the way it made his jaw tighten.

You looked up at him with wide, watery eyes—still glassy from the kiss, from the moment, from him.

“You wore this for me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, biting your bottom lip. “Who else would I wear it for?”

Jake exhaled sharply, his hand coming up to cradle the side of your face as he leaned in, kissing you again—slower this time, deeper.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, and when he pulled back, his gaze dropped once more to the black lace stretched across your chest.

“You’re so beautiful it hurts,” he whispered. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

And when he dipped his head, lips brushing the top edge of your bra, you arched into his touch—whimpering softly as his hands slid behind your back, steady and warm.

“Let me take my time with you tonight,” Jake murmured, voice trembling from how hard he was holding himself back. “Let me show you what it feels like to be wanted.”

His lips returned to your skin—featherlight at first, pressing tender kisses across your chest, each one lower than the last, more deliberate. You gasped softly as he reached the curve of your breast, his breath warm and shaky as he paused, just holding you.

You could feel the restraint in him—how badly he wanted to lose control, and how hard he was trying not to.

His fingers found the thin straps of your lace bra, slipping them down slowly—reverently—like he was unwrapping something precious. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, searching, almost asking for permission one more time.

When you gave the slightest nod, Jake exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years.

“God, you’re…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence, his voice dissolving into a broken sound of awe as he leaned in and pressed his lips over your heart—right there, in the center of your chest.

You whimpered, your hands tangling into his hair as he moved lower, kissing a trail along your skin, slower now, mouth opening against the softness of your body with a kind of devotion that made you dizzy.

His hands were everywhere—one steadying your waist, the other brushing down your side, mapping the shape of you like he was memorizing what it meant to finally have you like this.

His lips moved carefully, hungrily, lingering against every inch he exposed as the lace fell away.

“You drive me crazy,” Jake whispered, voice hoarse. “I think about you all the time. On stage. In the studio. Late at night when I can’t sleep. You don’t even know.”

He kissed lower, his mouth dragging a path down your stomach, every brush of his lips worshipful. Like he was savoring the moment, like he’d waited too long for this.

When he reached the waistband of your lace panties, he paused—just long enough to meet your eyes.

Then, in one swift motion, he hooked his fingers into the sides and pulled them down your thighs, not bothering to slow or look away. His gaze never left yours, not even when you whimpered from the sudden exposure. Jake’s breath hitched.

“Fuck, baby…” he murmured, voice reverent, “you’re so beautiful like this.”

He spread your thighs apart with ease, fingers curling over your knees before he lowered his mouth and dove in—with no hesitation, no teasing, just raw, desperate hunger.

The first swipe of his tongue made your back arch. He groaned like he’d just tasted heaven, his hands locking onto your thighs to hold you still as he ate you out like a man starved.

Long, deep strokes of his tongue mixed with slow circles around your clit, letting your needy whines guide his rhythm.

You reached for his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as he moaned against you, the vibration making your legs shake.

“You taste so good,” Jake murmured in between kisses. “Been dying to do this. Thinking about it every night.”

He flattened his tongue against you, dragging it in slow, deliberate laps while he pressed two fingers inside, curling them perfectly. You cried out—loud—but Jake only smirked, eyes glinting up at you with something feral.

“Shh, baby,” he said, lips slick with you. “You gotta be quiet, yeah? You want the whole floor to hear how good I’m making you feel?”

You bit your lip, trying to stay silent, but when he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, all control vanished.

“Jake—!” you gasped, hips stuttering, thighs trembling around his shoulders.

He groaned again, tongue relentless, fingers working you perfectly until you were writhing under him, your orgasm creeping up hard and fast.

“I got you,” he whispered, mouth hot against your skin. “Come for me. Let me taste all of it.”

And with one more flick—one more curl of his fingers—you broke.

Your body tensed, then shattered, waves of pleasure crashing through you as Jake held you through every second of it, mouth still working you gently, savoring every drop of your high like it was the only thing that mattered.

Only when your body went limp, breath ragged and thighs still shaking, did he finally pull away—lips swollen, chin wet, eyes dark with want.

He climbed back up your body, kissed your lips slow and deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“I’m not done,” he whispered against your mouth. “Not even close.”

You whimpered, the taste of yourself still lingering on his lips, and it only made the ache between your legs return sharper, deeper. He groaned softly as you kissed him harder, greedy—your hands already working at the buckle of his belt with trembling urgency.

The clink of metal echoed in the room, followed by the soft rustle of hiis pants hitting the floor. Jake’s white shirt, already half-unbuttoned from earlier, slid down his arms, revealing his flushed chest, the lean cut of his torso, and the soft, defined outline of abs that flexed with every breath.

He leaned back against the headboard, legs spread slightly, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips when he saw the way your eyes dropped to his boxers—the thick outline straining against the fabric, begging for your attention.

“You want to take care of me, baby?” he asked, voice low, teasing.

You nodded quickly, crawling over to him as heat burned down your spine. “Let me… please. I want to taste you.”

His jaw clenched at your eagerness. “Then be a good girl and come get it.”

You leaned in, lips trailing kisses down his chest—slow, open-mouthed—feeling the way his muscles jumped beneath your touch. He hissed softly when your tongue dipped just under the waistband of his boxers, fingers curling into the sheets.

Your hand cupped him through the fabric, palming him gently, and Jake cursed under his breath. He was already so hard for you, twitching against your touch. You looked up at him, waiting—wordlessly asking for permission.

He gave a breathless nod, pupils blown wide. “Go ahead. It’s all yours.”

You peeled his boxers down slowly, and his cock sprang free—flushed, thick, tip already leaking for you. The sight alone made your mouth water.

You wrapped your hand around the base and gave a tentative stroke, then leaned in to press a soft kiss to the head, your tongue flicking out to taste the bead of precum. Jake groaned, hips twitching.

“Fuck, baby—just like that,” he rasped, voice shaky. “You’re so perfect.”

You took him into your mouth, slow and deliberate, letting your tongue swirl around him as you sucked gently, working your way down inch by inch.

He was big—too big to take all at once—but you didn’t rush. Your hands kept a steady rhythm where your mouth couldn’t reach, spit slicking him up as you bobbed your head and moaned around him.

Jake let out a strangled noise, head falling back against the headboard. One hand threaded into your hair, guiding you with soft but firm pressure.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he groaned. “Pretty little mouth stretched around my cock. Shit—keep going, baby, you’re doing so well.”

You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, faster, loving the way his thighs tensed beneath your hands, the way his abs flexed every time you moaned. His voice was breathless, cracking around curses and praise.

“Gonna lose it if you keep this up,” he warned, biting his lip as he watched you. “Wanna come inside you instead, baby. Want to feel you. Let me—fuck, let me fuck you.”

You pulled off with a pop, lips swollen, eyes hazy with lust.

“Then take me,” you whispered, climbing onto his lap. “I’m yours.”

Jake’s hands were on your hips in an instant, gripping tight, like he was grounding himself—like if he didn’t hold onto you, he’d lose control completely. His cock throbbed against your inner thigh as you straddled him, your core slick and aching, already throbbing to be filled.

“You’re so wet already,” he groaned, running the head of his cock through your folds, dragging it over your clit just to hear your breath hitch. “All this for me?”

You nodded desperately, nails digging into his shoulders. “Jake, please…”

That was all he needed.

He lined himself up and pushed in—slow at first, but you were so ready for him, he slid in with ease, stretching you perfectly. Both of you moaned in unison, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the dim room as he bottomed out, deep and thick inside you.

“Fuck,” Jake rasped, head falling back. “You feel like heaven. So tight around me. Shit, baby…”

You began to move, rolling your hips against his, setting a rhythm that made both of you dizzy.

Jake’s hands guided your pace—one wrapped firmly around your waist, the other slipping up to your chest, palming your breast as you rode him like you were meant to be there, like this was the only place you belonged.

“Look at you,” he panted, voice low and wrecked. “Bouncing on my cock like that… you’re gonna kill me.”

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his as you moved faster, whimpering with every drag and push. The way he filled you—how deep he was, how good he felt—was too much.

The way he kissed you between moans, how his teeth dragged against your bottom lip, how he whispered your name like a prayer.

“Jake,” you gasped, “I’m close—please—”

“Come for me,” he growled, slamming his hips up to meet yours, driving even deeper. “I want to feel you fall apart on me, baby. Right here, on my cock.”

But he wasn’t done.

Still hard inside you, he flipped you over in one smooth motion—pressing you down into the mattress, your legs wrapping around his waist. His pace was rougher now, more desperate. He pounded into you like he couldn’t get deep enough, like he needed to mark you from the inside out.

“Fuck, baby—gonna fill you up,” he gasped, his thrusts erratic now. “Wanna come inside you—wanna make a mess of you.”

You nodded, dazed and breathless. “Do it, Jake. Please. I want it.”

And with one last groan—low, guttural, broken—he buried himself deep and spilled inside you, warmth flooding your core as he held you tight, trembling with the force of it.

Your back arched at the sensation, a whimper spilling from your lips as his cum filled you, hot and thick, the sheer volume of it making you shudder.

“Jake—ah, f-fuck,” you gasped, overwhelmed by the heat, the pressure, the stretch of him still buried inside.

But instead of pulling out, Jake only growled low in his throat and shifted—grabbing your thighs and folding you in half with a firm, possessive grip.

He pressed your knees to your chest, his hips grinding deeper, impossibly so, until you were pinned beneath him, utterly open and helpless.

“Mmm—Jake, I can feel it… it’s too much—” you whimpered, hands clutching at his forearms as he began to move again, slow but deliberate, fucking his cum deeper into you.

“That’s the point,” he hissed, sweat dripping down his temple as he hovered above you. “Gotta make sure it stays, baby. Gotta fuck it in real deep.”

His tone was different now—filthier, rougher, all control gone. His hips snapped forward in short, hard thrusts, balls slapping against you with every stroke as your slick mixed with his release, messy and obscene.

You moaned louder, unable to hold back as your body trembled from overstimulation.

“You’re still so fucking tight,” Jake groaned, breath ragged, “clenching around me like you don’t wanna let me go. You want more, huh? Want me to fill you up again?”

You cried out at the thought, overstimulated and aching, but the way he kept pounding into you—deep, unrelenting—had your body responding without thought.

“Y-Yes,” you sobbed. “Want it. Want all of it.”

He kissed your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, everything he could reach while pressing down harder—completely folding you in a mating press, his cock hitting every sensitive spot inside you over and over again. He was so deep you could barely breathe, could barely think.

“You’re mine,” he growled, voice cracking from how feral he sounded. “Say it. Say you’re mine while I’m fucking my cum into you.”

“I’m yours—fuck, Jake—I’m yours,” you cried, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes as another orgasm coiled tight in your belly.

“That’s it,” he groaned, losing himself in you all over again. “Gonna give you more. Gonna stuff you full until it’s dripping out of you—until you can’t take anymore.”

His hand found your clit, rubbing harsh, tight circles that pushed you right over the edge. You came again—harder this time, body shaking under him as he kept thrusting, chasing his second high, lost in the feel of your pulsing walls gripping him tight.

And then he cursed sharply—a broken, breathless sound—before slamming deep one last time, holding you down as he spilled into you again.

The sensation made you cry out, so full, too full, warm and wet and overflowing.

You were barely catching your breath when Jake slowly pulled out, his cum dripping from your swollen folds, messy and obscene. Your body trembled, overstimulated and dazed. But Jake wasn’t done. Not even close.

“Fuck—look at that,” he groaned, watching it spill out of you with hunger still burning in his eyes. “It’s leaking out already… guess I’ll just have to fuck it back in.”

You whined helplessly as he gripped your hips, dragging you down the bed until your legs dangled over the edge.

Then—before you could even plead or prepare—he flipped you onto your stomach, ass in the air, spine arching as he pulled your hips up and apart.

“Jake—wait—” you gasped, voice weak, face pressed against the sheets.

“No,” he growled. “I want to see you fall apart again.”

He slammed back in with one brutal thrust.

You screamed.

Your hands clawed at the sheets as he buried himself to the hilt from behind, hitting deeper than before, the new angle merciless.

His grip on your waist was bruising, relentless, as he fucked into you hard, fast, obscene. Skin slapping, wetness gushing—the sound of it echoed shamelessly in the room.

“Shit,” Jake cursed under his breath, watching the way your slick coated him. “You’re so fucking wet, baby. So messy. You feel that?”

You whimpered out a shaky yes, barely able to think.

He leaned down, chest pressed to your back, voice like a growl in your ear. “Bet you’re gonna squirt for me, huh? You’re close, aren’t you? So fucking sensitive after I filled you up twice.”

He reached around, fingers finding your clit as he pounded into you from behind, hard and sharp. The stimulation had your legs shaking, body jerking beneath him, cries turning incoherent as pressure built fast—too fast.

“Jake—Jake, I’m gonna—”

“That’s right,” he rasped, thrusts brutal and deep. “Fucking let go. I want to see it. Want to make this pretty little pussy squirt all over me.”

And then he angled his hips just right—his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside—and his fingers never stopped circling your clit. You screamed his name as your body seized up and—you broke.

A gush of wetness sprayed from you, soaking the sheets, your thighs, Jake’s stomach. You screamed again, face buried in the mattress, thighs trembling violently as Jake fucked you through it, moaning in awe at the mess you made.

“Goddamn—look at you,” he groaned, breathless, watching the way you squirted for him. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. You’re fucking perfect.”

He slowed down only slightly, thrusts still deep and deliberate as your walls fluttered and pulsed around him.

You were shaking under him—overstimulated, wrecked, dripping.

And Jake kissed down your spine, gently this time, whispering praises as he finally pulled out, cum and slick spilling down your thighs, a mess neither of you cared to clean up just yet.

“Can’t believe you just did that,” he murmured against your skin, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled you back into his lap. “You made such a mess for me, baby. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You lay against his chest, still trembling, face flushed and skin sticky with sweat and slick. But it was the feeling of his cock—still half-hard, slick between your folds—pressing right against your clit that made you let out a soft, broken whimper.

Jake groaned low in his throat, his hips twitching up instinctively at the sound. “Shit… baby, don’t make that noise. You’re gonna make me hard again.”

You rubbed against him, just slightly, your sensitive core gliding over his length. It was too much, too soon—the overstimulation making your body jolt with every twitch, but the friction was too addictive to stop.

“Jakey…” you whimpered again, your voice thin, tears still clinging to your lashes. “It’s too much…”

“I know,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple, hand rubbing slow circles on your back. “I know, baby. I’ve got you. You did so well for me. Let me take care of you now, yeah?”

Slowly, gently, he helped you lift off him, your legs wobbling as you winced at the feeling of him sliding out, the mixture of both your releases dripping down your thighs.

“Easy,” Jake murmured, catching you before you could slump forward. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

He picked you up effortlessly and carried you to the bathroom, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as he sat you down on the edge of the tub.

He ran warm water with one hand, the other never leaving your body. He was so gentle—so careful—like you were something fragile and precious.

Once the tub was filled, he eased you into it, sliding in behind you so your back rested against his chest. His hands moved over you slowly, washing you with the softest touch—rinsing between your legs, wiping away the mess he made, murmuring apologies and praises all at once.

“You were so good for me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “So fucking beautiful. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

You leaned back against him with a soft sigh, letting the warmth and his touch lull you into comfort.

“I love you,” you whispered, fingers curling around his.

He blinked, stunned for a beat—then smiled, bright and warm, the kind of smile that reached his eyes.

“I love you more,” he whispered, kissing you again. “And after this bath, I’m tucking you into bed, making sure you drink water, and cuddling you until you fall asleep.”

You let out a soft laugh, nose scrunching as you leaned into his kiss. “Sounds perfect.”

“Only the best for my baby,” he said, grinning. “Now c’mon, let me wash your hair.”

The soft warmth of sunlight peeked through the half-closed curtains, streaks of gold dancing lazily across the room. You winced a little, blinking against the light as you stirred under the tangled sheets.

Everything ached—your thighs, your hips, your back—but it was the good kind of ache. The kind that left a smile tugging at your lips the moment the memories of last night came rushing back.

You moved gently, and the first thing you saw was a mess of tousled blonde hair on the pillow beside you—Jake, face half-buried against your shoulder, one arm draped lazily around your waist. His breathing was slow, peaceful, lips slightly parted and lashes fanned out against his cheeks.

Your heart swelled.

He looked so soft like this. So warm. So real.

You reached for your phone on the nightstand, careful not to wake him. But the motion must’ve stirred him anyway, because his brows knit slightly, voice thick and raspy from sleep.

“Baby,” he mumbled, eyes barely cracking open. “Why are you awake? It’s so early…”

You smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Go back to sleep,” you whispered, brushing his messy hair back. “I just wanted to take something real quick.”

Jake groaned sleepily, but he didn’t let go of you. Instead, he shifted closer, nuzzling into your skin, his arm tightening protectively around your waist. “Mmm… 'kay. Just come back.”

Your eyes softened as you glanced down at your intertwined hands—his much bigger one wrapped loosely around yours, both of your fingers still wearing the simple silver promise rings you exchanged months ago. They gleamed faintly in the morning light, sitting snugly on your fourth fingers.

Smiling, you lifted your phone with your free hand and gently positioned it just above the bed. You lined up the frame—your hand next to his, rings in perfect focus, the sleepy blur of blonde hair and sunlit sheets behind them.

You stared at the photo for a moment after capturing it—heart warm, cheeks full of love—and you typed slowly, carefully, on your account on Weverse, the same one Jake secretly followed even though he’d never admit it

Jake shifted behind you, eyes still closed. “You better not be posting my bedhead,” he muttered sleepily, his voice muffled against your skin.

You laughed softly, turning to kiss him again. “Too late. But don’t worry, you look like the love of my life.”

Jake cracked one eye open, lips twitching into the laziest, fondest smirk. “Management’s gonna kill you,” he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

You shrugged, eyes twinkling. “Well, everything else that happened?” You leaned in close, your nose brushing his, your voice a playful whisper against his lips. “That’s off the record.”

Jake chuckled, pulling you back into his chest with a quiet, satisfied groan. “Damn right it is.”

You nuzzled into him, your ring glinting in the sunlight, his arm wrapped tight around your waist like he’d never let go. The sheets still smelled like heat and sweat and the lingering sweetness of the night before, but the room was calm now—quiet and golden.

A moment frozen in time. Yours and his. Just the two of you.

⤷ read part 1 here !

⤷ permanent tagllist — @m1kkso

© 2025 liuhsng — reblogs are highly appreciated and please don’t hesitate to request some fics here if you want me to write anything !

[shadowlord420sgf]

⟡ ݁₊ . You Always Come Back (right?)

✮⋆˙ xxXshadowl0rd420Xxx | skips x reader .⋆♱

⌗ summary: Skips can't stop wondering if you'll leave him for good. So, he pulls you close and makes you promise- over and over again- that you're his forever …

⌗ warnings!: female reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex, shameless smut with feelings, possessive and clingy skips, SLIGHT mention of stalking/mastrubation, creampie, porn with no plot basically, established relationship …

⌗ author’s note: hi guys can you tell I don’t write a lot lmao + this is crossposted on my ao3 ! (the format is better there imo)

No matter how much you tried to tell him, Skips wouldn’t believe you. He couldn’t. Not when you’d leave him every morning, and only visit him at night. It hurt him. It physically hurt so badly that he wanted you, needed you, but could never keep you with him. “Skips, it’s fine,” you tried your best to assure him. “For you it is!” He cried, “Every time you leave me I have to wonder if you’ll even come back.” It pained you to see him like this, how his brows knit together in sorrow, all at the fault of your own.

“Why do you have to go in the morning? Why…Why can’t you just be a shadow and stay with me? ” He begged, noticeably closer to you now. “Skips…” you started, running your fingers through his long black hair, to which he groaned softly. “We both know it’s not that simple.” You whispered, trying to get him to understand on any level.

Before you could say another word, he pulled you in for a kiss. Merely a peck before he stammered, “Fuck- I’m sorry. I just…you’re so—” You shut him up by pressing your lips to his, deeper. One that set off whatever was spewing inside the two of you all this time. He groans into your mouth, low and needy, like he’s been starving for this (he has). His hands hold your face ever so gently, before moving lower and lower…Down your neck, shoulders, gripping at your hips. You can feel his heart beating against your own chest. Fuck.

A string of saliva connects your mouths as you’re forced to pull away for air. By now, you and Skips are panting hard, holding onto each other like your lives fucking depend on it. “My penumbra…” Skips mutters, and you sigh. That name always did it somehow. A whine escapes your throat on its own and Skips chuckles. His lips are on yours again, tongue roughly exploring your mouth as you both rush to take off your clothes.

Once you’re left bare, Skips pupils are blown wide and you swear he swallows his drool. “Just look at you, penumbra. The most beautiful woman alive.” Oh god, you couldn’t possibly have gotten wetter at his words. Skips brings his hand down to your sex, barely ghosting a finger at your slit. Your back arched as you whimpered, “Oh fuck, Skips please . I need you.” His hips bucked ever so slightly as he choked out a, “Say it again- please, please say it again for me.” Who were you to deny his sweet begging? “Ah- I need it, Skips, I need you. Need you inside me now pleasepleaseplease,”

With that, he thrusted into you with the greatest sound you’d ever heard in your life. “You’re—mnh— so f-fucking tight.. all for me, huh?” He moans and lets out a little shaky laugh, like he’s almost in disbelief of how incredible you always feel. You gasped beneath him, grinding your hips like you’re still so desperate for more, before mewling out, “Shit… Skips, please move— c-come on,”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. He pushes into you unbelievablely deeper, relishing at the way you hissed in the amazing pain of the stretch. “Ngh— my penumbra,” he pants, thrusting in and out of you before leaning down to kiss you once again. He swears he could actually die on your lips, tasting you, feeling you like this. “You’re mine , mmf… say it.” he whispers against your lips, and you nod hard, strings of yesyes,imyours,pleasedontstop leaving your lips.

“I’ll never let you go, you’ll be my penumbra forever,” he sighs into your neck, although you’re not sure if he’s telling you or convincing himself that. That didn’t matter. The only thing that seemed to matter was how warm and wet you were inside, how intimately he made love to you, how mesmerizing it looked between where your two bodies connected. “You feel.. so good.. Like you’re just made for this, made for me .” He practically pleaded. Oh, Skips. Why, why must it be this way?

You’re knocked out of your thoughts by Skips’ hand reaching down where you united, rubbing your clit in gentle circles. You squirm and moan hotly at the sensation, hands tangling in his hair, nails dragging down his back, like you don’t know where to put them— and you don’t, because you need to touch him everywhere. Where had he learned to do something like that? Probably when he watches you, when you think you’re all alone, late at night, hand sliding under your waistband as you make the sweetest sounds— which is unimportant at the moment…

Skips thrusts become sloppier, his pace uneven. Your heart fluttered at the way he moaned your name, just a little higher. Fuck, you knew what this meant and you couldn’t wait any longer. “Penumbra— I’m gonna come, fuck , I’m gonna come inside you, where it belongs,” He tells you, “ Come with me.. please, ” As if Skips commanded it himself, you feel the knot of pleasure building up in the pit of your stomach, getting harder to hold back until—

Fuck. Skips comes in you, hard, like— he’s trying to get you pregnant or something. You cry out as your orgasm comes crashing with his, creating a gushing mess between you. He pants and desperately whines your name as he makes sure to fuck all of his seed into you. You writhe under him, absolutely fucked out, seeing stars.

All that can be heard is your panting and his ragged breathing. It's beyond intimate, how you two hold each other in the softest way. “I love you, Skips. Okay? We’re both trying our best here.” You assured him with a kiss. Skips pulls you closer to him and sighs, “I love you too.”

[ashthesalamipiece]

Hi I love your writing ! Could you possibly do bakago catching his daughter kissing midoryias son

Blasting Hearts and Puppy Love

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Katsuki Bakugo

Tags: Humor, Family Fluff, Teen Romance, Angry Dad Mode™, Soft Bakugo™, Deku Cameo

Word Count: ~2600

---

The Bakugo household was... loud.

Always had been. Always would be. But over the years, you’d learned to decipher the difference between “I just stubbed my toe” shouting and “the chicken’s on fire again” shouting.

What you weren’t prepared for was the shout you heard that Saturday afternoon.

“KATSUHARU BAKUGO, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

You dropped your coffee.

Spinning on your heel, you bolted through the house, nearly tripping over the cat and catching the tail end of your husband’s warpath—shirtless, hair wild, explosions popping on his palms like sparklers having an anxiety attack.

And there she was. Your daughter. Your beautiful, clever, slightly-too-much-like-her-dad daughter—Katsuharu Bakugo—with that look on her face. The one that screamed “I regret everything.”

Beside her? Green hair. Freckles. The startled look of a deer about to get steamrolled by a rocket-powered bulldozer.

You didn’t even need the full picture.

She was kissing Izuku Midoriya’s son.

---

Five Minutes Earlier

Katsuharu had sworn her parents were going out. “They’ll be gone for, like, two hours. We have time.”

And honestly? She wasn’t wrong. You had planned to run errands. Emphasis on planned. You’d forgotten your wallet. Classic.

So there she was, half sunk into the couch, lip-locked with Midoriya “I’m-Actually-A-Little-Taller-Than-My-Dad” Izumi, when she heard the front door open.

They broke apart fast enough to get whiplash, eyes wide.

Then—

BOOM.

Explosion.

Yelling.

The sound of slippers being yeeted into the stratosphere.

---

Present Time

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Bakugo shouted, stalking across the living room like a lion that’d just caught a hyena stealing his meat. “YOU’RE SUCKIN’ FACE WITH A DAMN DEKU SPAWN?!”

“I—I wasn’t—” Izumi stuttered, holding his hands up like it might protect him from certain death. “I swear I didn’t mean—!”

Katsuharu, cheeks still pink, hissed, “Dad, you’re being dramatic—”

“OH I HAVEN’T EVEN STARTED YET!”

You stepped in between them like a seasoned war general mediating nuclear diplomacy.

“Okay! Okay, Katsuki, I get that you’re having a full emotional breakdown, but maybe—maybe—we don’t detonate the child?”

“He’s not a child, he’s a Midoriya!” Bakugo snapped. “That’s a betrayal of blood!”

“She’s not in a gang, Katsuki! She kissed him, not sold state secrets!”

“I might as well be stabbed in the back with a broccoli!”

“Dad, I like him!” Katsuharu shouted. “He’s sweet and smart and—”

“AND A DAMN NERD!” Bakugo howled.

“Excuse me, I’m standing right here,” Izumi muttered, eyebrows raised.

“You’re lucky you’re still standing at all, bean sprout!”

---

10 Years of Parenting Flash Before Your Eyes

You remember when Katsuki first held Katsuharu in the hospital. Swaddled in a pink blanket, already scowling like her father. He looked down at her, called her a “tiny grenade” and promised he’d protect her from everything.

You had a sneaking suspicion that included the concept of kissing forever.

“You,” Bakugo said, turning a fire-eyed glare toward Izumi, “have exactly three seconds to explain yourself before I start decorating the walls with your limbs.”

Izumi’s face paled. “I-I like her! I’ve liked her since we were ten! She’s fierce and funny and amazing and—and she beat up a kid who called me broccoli boy—”

“That was one time!” Katsuharu shouted, flustered.

“She broke his nose,” Izumi whispered fondly.

Bakugo squinted like his soul just physically left his body.

“GET. OUT.”

Izumi didn’t hesitate. “Yessir!”

He bolted out the front door like his shoes were on fire (they might’ve been, considering the burn trail behind him).

Katsuharu groaned, “Ugh, Dad!”

“You’re grounded for eternity!”

“I’m seventeen!”

“Grounded until the earth collapses in on itself and all that’s left is ash and regret!”

You, ever the peacekeeper, held up a hand. “Okay, that’s enough end-of-days poetry. Katsu, take a breath before your blood pressure explodes.”

“I’m calm,” Bakugo growled, completely unconvincingly. “I’m totally. Freakin’. CALM.”

The throw pillow he detonated in his hand said otherwise.

---

Later That Evening

After the dust (literal and metaphorical) settled, you found Bakugo brooding at the kitchen table, arms crossed, eyes twitching.

“She’s growing up,” you said softly, pouring him a cup of tea.

“She’s supposed to grow up into a badass. Not a—kissing Deku's kid badass.”

You smirked. “Izumi’s sweet.”

“He’s a walking fern with nerves.”

“He also volunteers at the animal shelter and knits scarves for homeless people.”

Bakugo looked like you told him his daughter was dating Santa Claus.

“I should’ve sent her to a nunnery.”

“She’d have blown it up.”

“She gets that from you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Bakugo grumbled. “Okay, fine. She gets it from us. But that don’t mean I gotta like her getting all sappy with broccoli’s spawn.”

“You do realize we kissed around that age too, right?”

“Yeah, and I almost broke the windows doing it.”

You laughed, ruffling his hair. “Katsu, she’s a good kid. And she picked a good kid. That’s what matters.”

He huffed. “I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it. You just have to not vaporize it.”

“...Compromise.”

---

Epilogue: The Apology BBQ

To make peace, you and Bakugo invited the Midoriyas over for a backyard cookout.

It was... awkward.

Izuku beamed nervously. “Wow, it smells great out here!”

Katsuki threw a burger patty on the grill like it owed him money. “You shut your damn mouth, Deku.”

Inko Midoriya and you exchanged exhausted parent glances while sipping lemonade.

Katsuharu and Izumi sat very far apart—until you weren’t looking.

Then came the hand-holding.

Cue Bakugo exploding the ketchup bottle.

“YOU THINK I DIDN’T SEE THAT?!”

[solarstranger]

CHAPTER 1 | I HOPE YOU SEE (RIGHT THROUGH ME)

w.c. 1.2k

tags. minors dni. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (23), some cussing (it's not bakugou's internal monologue if there aren't any), suicide-related deaths (see series synopsis for more details), discussions of suicide, canon-typical descriptions of violence

a/n. welcome to another series by yours truly!!!! i know i still have that body swap one in the queue, and while i am planning on working on that, this series' premise just spoke to me and i was emboldened to write it as soon as i could. i'm writing this as i go, though, so the posting schedule is likely gonna be erratic, but i promise i'll try to write this consistently. anyway, i'd absolutely love to hear what you think throughout the process, so please don't be a stranger and talk to me!

links. masterlist, ao3

Somehow, he’s wound up in the emergency room of Musutafu’s highly renowned Central Hospital.

Which, if he had the energy left to really think about it, is not particularly an unusual occurrence. He’s been here—and other similar hospitals—enough to have a general blueprint of the corridors etched in his mind, as well as the basic rules they shared and protocols that were strictly followed. Stuff like how phone calls are prohibited, fatigued doctors specializing in emergency medicine are perpetually present, and how—for a place supposedly and rightfully dubbed with the ‘emergency’ title—the staff sure don’t seem to have a whole lot of sense of urgency.

Although he supposes he’d rather have that than be in a room teeming with frantic energy. Maybe they’re doing it on purpose, actually, for the sake of the patients who get rolled in.

Except right now, he was not a patient.

He was technically not a guardian, either, though the disheveled-looking middle-aged man blatantly staring at him from a few rows up front is most definitely thinking otherwise.

Well, then.

Acutely aware of the unwanted attention, Bakugou shifts uncomfortably in his seat, wincing ever so slightly when the connected metal chairs to his right creak loudly with the motion. It doesn’t help that he’s still in his hero clothes—although he’s aware there’s no point in mulling over it now; after all, he didn’t exactly have the time to do a costume change with all the shit that went down.

Not that he’s exactly sure what that ‘shit’ even was.

It all happened too fast.

One minute, he was walking down his regular patrol route down Shizuoka’s famous tallest bridge—cursing the unbearable summer heat and the dehydration-induced headaches that it brought with it; the next, he was jumping off of it.

He even boosted himself with his quirk to aid gravity in his free fall, but to no avail.

Your body had already collided with the ground by the time he could grab your wrist.

The moments that passed after that are even more of a blur now. He doesn’t know how he did it, but after what seemed like an eternity of merely staring at your limp, bloody body, Bakugou was able to pull out his phone and call 119. The medics arrived shortly after, maybe in a span of five minutes, but to him it felt like more.

It took everything within him not to just haul your body and propel you to the nearest hospital.

Because if someone died under his watch…

“Mr. Dynamight?”

Bakugou startles, looking up from where he was blankly staring at his intertwined, scarred hands. At the sight of a white coat-clad woman, the pro-hero immediately stands up, nodding, turning to face the brunette with his full attention.

“Hi,” the doctor greets, “It’s come to my understanding that you’re the one who called in regarding Patient—” she trails off, looking down at her clipboard to double-check, before saying your name in a question. “Is that right?”

“Yes,” Bakugou rasps roughly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “Uh, yes, doc.”

The doctor nods. “Were you on patrol when you found her?”

Close, the voice in Bakugou’s head retorts without missing a beat. I saw her fucking jump.

Instead of saying all that out loud, however, the ash-blonde only nods wordlessly.

The woman hums. “Okay, then. Well, her parents are still on the way here, and normally we’d let them know first, but given the nature of your involvement and your occupation, I might as well inform you.”

Instantly, Bakugou finds himself bracing for what’s next.

The doctor presses her lips in a thin line.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, shaking her head solemnly. “She didn’t make it.”

Dead on arrival.

You were dead on arrival.

At least, that’s what the doctors told him when he pressed them for more. He couldn’t tell if they were hesitant about divulging further information about you aside from the basics or just simply in the dark themselves, seeing as how they only had your wallet that they found on your person to go from. Either way, Bakugou decided it didn’t matter as soon as an older couple burst through the doors of the emergency room—a good half hour later—whom he immediately identified as your parents.

Needless to say, he hightailed it out of there.

The last thing he needed was to be the unfortunate bearer of bad news, or worse, be recognized as the reason why their daughter is currently lying lifeless in one of the hospital’s private rooms.

After that, he couldn’t remember much of his actions, only that he somehow decided to head to the agency. The entire flight down to his office, he stuck his good ear out for any signs of ringing from his phone, which surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—didn’t come.

Which makes sense.

He’s heard stories before. Exchanged in hushed whispers back in the UA dormitory, and uttered in low voices in the agencies he worked at as a sidekick. About how suicide cases in the country are criminally underreported—not just because of the stigma surrounding the act, but because the police allegedly make it a point to conceal such cases, away from the media’s prying eyes and before it gets blown out of proportion by the public.

Hakamada told him it was most likely to prevent the occurrence of suicide clusters, to which Bakugou scoffed instinctively, granting him a reprimanding look from his mentor.

But really, could anyone blame him?

The idea seemed stupid then.

If he killed himself for whatever reason, he sure didn’t want his death to be treated as some sort of curse, talked about only when people think no one’s watching.

There’s nothing more pitiful than fading away without leaving a single trace, after all.

But now, as he sits in the quiet dark of his agency’s office—the building silent if not for the gentle whirring of his air conditioner—Bakugou finds himself oddly grateful.

Because…

Because.

He wouldn’t know what he’d do if he had to face the press about what just happened.

He’s not sure how long he sat spaced out in his office, but by the time he’s inserting his lone copy of his key into the door knob, it’s already two hours past midnight, and the exhaustion from the day’s events has finally made itself known in the form of muscle aches and a throbbing migraine.

Bakugou doesn’t try to fight the sigh of relief that wracks his body the second he hears the lock click, his movements automatic as he pushes the door open with his side, left hand reaching out in the dark until it lands on and presses against the switch.

As if on cue, light floods the living room slash kitchen of Bakugou’s apartment unit, a sight so mundanely familiar that he doesn’t even blink at first.

Just—drags his aching feet towards the foyer where he toes off his sneakers and drops his duffel bag, which he swears he’ll collect the first thing tomorrow morning.

But then that’s when it happens.

Bakugou barely catches it—the movement at the corner of his eye—but he does.

And when he does—glance to look at it—he blanches.

Because sitting on his sofa is no other than a ghost.

˗ˏˋ while likes are appreciated, they don’t do much on tumblr! if you want to support me and writers in general, reblogs, replies, and tags are the way to go. feel free to drop an ask, too—i’d love to chat. have a nice day! ´ˎ

[odds-group]

Avoided Kiss

Pairing: March 7th, Himeko, Stelle, Kafka, Silver Wolf, Asta, The Herta, Ruan Mei, Serval, Seele, Natasha, Bronya x GN! Reader (all separate)

Genre: Fluff

They try to give you a kiss, and you avoid it??? You caught them off guard.

A/n: no warnings needed, just be cautious, cuz I can promise that most of them are NOT happy. 😓

Astral Express

March 7th

All dramatic about it.

She is NOT happy with you too much.

Especially if you did it to tease her, or as a joke.

Expects a new plushie.

And chocolate, cuddles, finished with a movie in bed.

But seriously you now owe her.

Still playfully pouting.

Himeko

Surprised for sure.

I meannnn.

Have you seen the way she acts?

She prob expects you to be all over her the first move.

But no, you simply dodged it.

Quietly apologizes before going back to her normal self.

Now she expects YOU to kiss her first, you just screwed yourself.

Stelle

YOU DID NOT

NOOO MY BBG STELLE

Our precious raccoon lady feels so bad and guilty.

She deserves a kiss for that.

She's sulking in the corner :(

Apologizes before digging through a trash can to make herself feel better.

Stellaron Hunters

Kafka

Do you hate yourself?

Let's be honest.

You're madly in love with this woman.

You would never reject a kiss from this woman.

If you would

Oh boy, where do I start

Everything she says afterwards is both a threat and her flirting

AT THE SAME TIME

You're doomed

Nothing else for me to say safely

Wishing you luck xoxo

Silver Wolf

Omg 😭

It is such a rare thing to happen

And now you're rejecting it.

I hope you're ready to wait 927383738271 years before she tries again.

Lol all jokes aside,

She's just going back to her games.

Ofc she feels a little offended, but she's not going to make you feel uncomfortable.

She loves you too much for that

She's waiting though, waiting for you to realize it's prob not going to happen again.

Wolfie deserves a kiss for that though :(

Herta's Space Station

Asta

Immediate panic.

She's scared 😭

Please don't report her to HR

Girl kinda needs her job

I meannnn

How is she going to support peppy?

She's probably already spent all her trust fund money.

She feels so bad.

And apologies constantly

She's probably avoiding you for at least a couple days.

Just expect to find little snacks around with apologies written on them.

The Herta

BHAHAHHAHA

Oh you're actually serious

She is actually so offended even I'm scared.

Literally scoffs in your face.

You bruised her ego :( (it was funny do it again)

Suddenly decides she has better things to do.

Definitely making a plan to successfully kiss you though.

Ruan Mei

OH LAWRDDD

SHE AIN'T MISSING NEXT TIME

But you will be safe for at least the next month 😌

BUT BEWARE 👹

She will be taking her chances and making you more down bad for her.

So that kiss is even more sweet and wanted <3

All apart of her elaborate plan of making you madly in love with her

Belabog

Serval

More than likely hitting on you afterwards

Idk I can just feel the gayness coming off of her

You two will be making out next you both are alone

There are no exceptions

Teasing as payback

You gonna pay for it somehow.

Seele

Okay she didn't even expect her self to do that

And for you to avoid it too??

Poor girl

Will ask for you to forget it

But poor girl can't forget it herself

She's just constantly thinking about what it meant and how she feels

Please give her a kiss :(

Natasha

Congratulations

You just made the gentle giant feel guilty 😐

I hope you're happy with yourself

Now you have to make the first move

but she genuinely is worried that she made you uncomfortable

She will be apologizing for the next couple times you two see each other.

Bronya

She feels so bad :(

How dare you do that to my overworked bbg

She deserves the world

And you deny her a kiss :(

She'll def write about her feelings in a journal

But that journal will never see the light of day.

She won't try until you do

And when you do she won't avoid.

A/N: dividers are not mine but I forgot who I got them from 😭. If they see this I am so sorry 😭😭

[setmeatopthepyre]

thimblefull of fic thursday

yes hi hello all these lovely people tagged me in various writing-related days of the week in the past... while. I may be forgetting people but thank you for the tag(s) @beanarie @trombonechurchill @rcmclachlan @leashybebes @apollabarnes @ambernotember @buckevantommy @chimneyz @owlgirl495 @geddyqueer @bidisasterevankinard @chococara25. please keep tagging me even if I take forever to respond to them bc I love reading all your snippets!

I dug up a lil snippet of antarct-fic to share.

-

“Look,” the dark-haired pilot with the warm eyes says, leaning in. “Not to burst your bubble, but if you’re about to ask if Roz is single, as far as I can tell the answer is always ‘it’s complicated’.”

There’s a moment of hesitation that Tommy hasn’t been able to banish completely yet. That moment of will this be OK? Is this going to fuck up this friendly atmosphere for the rest of his time here?

But Lucy’s friend had insisted, and he doesn’t hide anymore, so he says, as if it’s nothing, “Oh, no. I’m gay, actually.” And then he doesn’t look for a reaction, just keeps careful track of his peripherals in case there’s movement, but there isn’t. Because it’s fine.

As promised, it’s fine.

“Oh, that’s cool,” Hisham says, like it’s no big deal, because it isn’t. “There’s a queer get-together thing every first Friday of the month, I’m pretty sure. I’ll ask Becks about it later, remind me.”

-

np tags for everyone who tagged me and also @emphasisonthehomo @screamlet @sugarpenchant @frogsinflannel

[nqrancia]

no thoughts, head empty, i think it’d be hilarious to call some of the jjba character your “current” boyfriend just to fuck with them. so could i get Rohan, Mista and Diego react to reader calling them that? thank youuu ❤️

“𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝.”

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 : rohan kishibe, guido mista, diego brando

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : how does your bf react to being referred to as your current boyfriend

𝐚/𝐧 : this one was fun to write, tsym for requesting diego! i’ve been brainrotting over him recently :)

𝐑𝐎𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐊

He’s not mad, he’s just disappointed.

Rohan is more than familiar with the trends of today, and is also more than aware of their stupidity. At least, that’s what he believes them to be. It’s not the initial statement that bothers him, it’s the notion that you thought he would be dumb enough to fall for the little trick you attempted to pull on him.

“I’m a bit offended you thought that would work on me.”

He won’t admit it, but he does think about that moment more than he wants to.

───

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐎 𝐌.

Appalled, offended, incredulous. Any negative word that could be used to describe the look of betrayal on Mista’s face was the only way to properly read it. He almost immediately thinks he’s done something to wrong you, which he hasn’t, but he doesn’t know that! The man almost felt his soul leave his body. “What do you mean “current boyfriend”?!”

“Babe, did I do something wrong?”

Even his Sex Pistols are freaking out, thinking you’re leaving him. They need their snack distributor, and it has to be you. You always have exactly what they’re craving.

“Mista says he’s sorry for whatever he did wrong!”

As soon as you tell him it was just a small prank, he lets out the biggest sigh of relief he could muster. A weight was just taken off his shoulders, and he’s even more relieved that you aren’t leaving him. “Thank god! I thought this was your own messed up way of telling me you were breaking up with me!”

You have to promise that you won’t call him that again, or he thinks next time he will actually die.

“Never call me your “current boyfriend” ever again, I am your boyfriend for life!”

“I would hope at that point you’d be my husband instead, Guido.”

“Details.”

───

𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐆𝐎 𝐁.

As soon as those words left your mouth, you were doomed. Though his face was kept in a calm expression for your audience, he was internally setting everything in the vicinity on fire. “Current boyfriend”? What exactly did the phrasing of those words mean? Were you trying to insinuate that in the near future you were going to break up with him? To his knowledge, he hadn’t done anything to anger you. But your words gave him a sense of an internal panic.

After your entourage of reporters had come to interview the both of you, he immediately turned to look at you and scoffed. “Current boyfriend”? I see how it is.”

He is not taking this little prank so well. His feeling of betrayal is expressed in harsher words and blunt statements, and will act this way until you apologize properly to him. To others, his actions might seem childish, but you understood why he reacted this way. Diego wasn’t one to care what was lost as long as he didn’t need it or didn’t see a reason for its use, but you were different. He didn’t like humans, yet you were “tolerable” enough to be allowed to be his. He had found trust in you, yet his heart was still fragile.

Which was exactly why he turned to teasing to mess with you, to convince you to fold and ask for his forgiveness.

“Yes, my “current significant other” loves to watch me race. They come to every event just to watch me achieve victory. Cute, isn’t it?”

Diego won’t stop until you apologize, and you have to be as honest and concise as possible with it as well. He won’t accept a half-hearted, shell of a reason. You have to be clear with him and express your want for forgiveness. If you word your sentences correctly, you might just get him to crack a small smile.

“If there is a next time, I won’t be so nice about my teasing.”

@𝐧𝐪𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐚 ݁₊˚⊹☆ - please do not translate or plagiarize my works.

[randybutternubber]

My idiot chud son, Rusty

And the backstory I made tf up for him if anyone wants to read it plus my analysis of him as a character.

This is my design for him. looks ridiculous 💔💔💔

These are the clothes I imagine he would perform in. He also has a cleft lip, I think this kind is called unilateral incomplete. Not sure how well I drew it so if anyone was curious abt what it was there you go

Okay I’m going to paste my HCs about him under a cut because this is long and I would feel bad flooding the tag

By the way, only the last part of this write up is actually written somewhat well/in a more narrative way. I was just doing a quick write up months ago but I got overly excited half way through and went nuts, but couldn’t carry that energy back to the beginning.

I promise if you can get through the sloppy stuff the last part might actually be worth it. It’s still sloppy but I had fun. I tried to clean it up but eh. I’ll just mark when I started going nuts so the tonal whip lash is more palatable. Enjoy the shit I made up about my stupid chudling. Tell me what you think about my brain diarrhea

The premise of my HC backstory for him is that Rusty took care of his mother from a young age because she was suffering from huntington's disease after they immigrated to the counties.

Huntington’s is a cruel disease, and it does not kill quickly. It’s a slow and degenerative death.

His mother was a refugee from the Korean War- a stowaway, as was he- leaving him unable to ask for assistance when his mother changed.

He was conceived not a long time before his mother left but months before they would arrive. he would never know his father, not even his name , only that he was unlike his mother- white, not “oriental”.

And he, as a result, was treated as neither by both sides- all except for his mother.

When he was 9 He worked on the docks to a small, dirty little pier fair. He’d sweep up droppings from small unseen life, clean up piles of sick, and sift through thin sand under the docks for lost change to supplement his paltry salary.

but, as all children do, he’d sometimes slack off to watch the shows. He wished he could walk on the tightropes or swing from the trapeze- he wanted to fly too.

His mother scared him. she didn’t recognize him sometimes, and he couldn’t recognize her at all, but he was crushed with the guilt of wanting to leave her, because without him, she would die, and if he stayed, he would grow up to become like her.

For context, Huntington’s disease is a genetic disorder and if one of your parents has it the chance of you interesting it is very high.

Rusty’s mom also became erratic and sometimes aggressive- something that can happen to people with Huntington’s disease.

She would have episodes of rage and extreme confusion. Rusty didn’t understand why his mom changed, and he would often climb onto the roof of the house. He was terrified of heights but more scared of his mother.

(This is the part where I got too excited and actually started seriously writing)

One day, there was a great cargo ship that docked near the fair. He stared at it blankly. His hands were wet with spittle from trying to help brush her teeth, and there was a deep convex wound blossoming on his right.

She had cried today when she saw what she had done, a thin pink discharge coating her teeth like cheap veneers. He wished she had yelled, not beg for him to hug her while he stood inanimate and still, urine tricking down his leg and his bitten hand thumping like a second heart.

He boarded in secret and was a stowaway in all forms.

He slept among the cargo, in the freighter’s ice cold stomach and laid there, smothered and compact in the dark, laid to rest by the ships metronome sway.

And so he drifted into a world so similar yet different, infested with life of all shapes and sizes, some so spectacular that they could make crowds roar, and others so abhorred and aberrant that they would likely find themselves out of place even in the most exotic menageries.

And still there were others, children of all creeds, tongues, and complexion. They would stare at him with their little dormice eyes, heads popping up and disappearing as soon as they had emerged, like puppets in a shooting gallery. But when under the spotlight and draped in ridiculous costumes that hid the gaps between their ribs, they were brilliant and spectacular- they glowed, and Rusty- Rusty glowed too.

there were lights, sword swallowers, fire breathers, and funambulist- human canon balls, tigers tamed by wild children with whips, roaring audiences, and man dressed in purple- a companion to the diminutive doll-man perched on his lap.

And so he drifted deeper into Nowhere. And then I didn’t write the end but he got trafficked into the fuckinb carnivale and now gets bullied by borderline geriatric gay men.

Rusty’s back story mainly focuses on themes of escapism, abandonment, and the fear of growing up. He’s trapped in between two looming hells- growing up in the nowhere to become as morally bankrupt as any other adult, or to live in the waking world with the possibility that he could die a slow, degenerative death.

Because of this, Rusty is mainly motivated by desperation and feeling like he needs to escape. Similarly to how the devs said that the monsters lack goals but more follow these base urges, pretty much their id, rusty feels that pull too, deep in his tummy, and it’s got him guthooked.

But how do you escape two, almost certainly inevitable fates. Would you choose the certainty of becoming a monster and retaining your autonomy, or would you wait years, building up a life that you know has a very real chance of being dismantled by an incurable illness?

If rusty has survived my idea is that he would have become a Houdini like magician for the funfair, being locked up in absurd contraptions and escaping them on stage. He never stops running, never stops writhing away, always escaping.

He’s very much a “chew your own leg off to escape the bear trap” type character

And every time he escapes he ends up in another hell, another trap, out of the frying pan into the fire and then back again.

He was born as a result of an escape, and he died the same way. Even if he never got the chance to inherit her illness, he may be more like his mother than he will ever know.

Rusty is a sad character. Some people strongly dislike him for what he did to noone, which I understand, but I genuinely think it was due to desperation and some serious lack of foresight (my idiot chud son) At the end of the day though, he did end up using her, and I do think that part of him knew that and still did it. Rusty effectively threw her under the bus, and, intentionally or not, used her as bait.

At the same time though, Rusty likely suffered abuse for years at the hands of the ringmaster and dummy, along with maybe even the other performers to a lesser extent. I don’t think it’s fair to treat him as a villain like some people do to him (to a much lesser extent) and six

I see him in a similar boat to six in some ways. Even though he’s a teenager (I HC him as 16) he’s lacked a proper social structure for what can be assumed to be a massive chunk of his life, so he’s definitely way more immature if that makes sense. He hasn’t had time to grow in a way that wasn’t induced by trauma and pain. The environment of the carnivale itself is perfect for breeding resentment between performers, and Rusty is the star.

People often want to think they’d do the right thing in high stakes situations, but just one split second decision can turn you from victim to villain in the eyes of others.

It is incredibly hard to predict how we will react in life or death situations, and I feel very bad for Rusty despite all his flaws.

I also feel for noone too since she never even got a chance to process Rusty’s assumed death. Not to mention she never seemed to realize that she was essentially being manipulated by him- after all, it seems like Noone is used to that kind of treatment from not only her peers, but the adults around her.

They’re both deeply traumatized children, and Rusty is my idiot chud son.

[lumosflairr]

Lucky Socks - Ronald Weasley

summary: you accidentally shrink Ron’s lucky socks. However, a certain family member of his taught you how to knit them right back up.

warnings: none! just fluff :)

a/n: i haven’t written for Ron is SOOO long, so I came up with this short fic 🩷

You stood frozen in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, two very small, very shriveled socks dangling in your hands.

“Oh no,” you whispered. “Oh no no no—”

“What?” Ron asked, flopping onto the couch behind you with a grin. “Is this about how I destroyed you in Exploding Snap or—”

You turned slowly, holding up the socks like a confession.

“I shrank them.”

He blinked. “…My lucky socks?”

You winced. “Yes.”

Ron shot up like he’d been hit with a jinx. “My lucky socks!? The ones I wear before every Quidditch match? The ones I wore when I aced McGonagall’s test — the one she never lets anyone ace? Those socks?”

You nodded. “They’re now baby-sized.”

He groaned, dramatically falling face-first into a pillow. “I’ll fix it,” you promised. “I’ll make you new ones.”

He peeked up. “You knit?”

You gave him a smug smile. “Of course. Your mum taught me over the summer.” That got his attention. “Mum did?” You nodded, already grabbing your wand and yarn from your trunk. “She said, and I quote, ‘If you’re going to be in this family, you’d best learn how to charm socks not to shrink.’” You paused. “I didn’t use the charm this time. Obviously.”

Ron watched you work from the couch, his face slowly melting from pouty to completely smitten. “You’re actually doing it,” he muttered, voice thick with awe. “You’re knitting for me.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

He leaned over and kissed your cheek. “Too late.”

—————-

Later on that week, Ron sat on his bed, a half-finished letter spread across his lap and one bright red sock already on his foot — the new ones, hand-stitched by you, with little gold threads along the top and your initials charmed into the inside cuff.

He smiled down at the parchment and kept writing.

“Mum — you’ll never believe what happened to my lucky socks. Y/N shrunk them in the wash — on accident, but she KNIT me new ones. Just like you showed her. They’re amazing. I reckon I’ll play ten times better with these. They’ve got her initials inside them. Not telling anyone that bit. Anyway, just thought you’d like to know.”

He signed it with a scribbled Love, Ron, tied it to the leg of the family owl, and let Pig fly off into the night.

—————-

Molly Weasley stood in the kitchen in her apron, stirring a pot of stew when the owl landed on the windowsill. She wiped her hands on a towel and untied the letter, recognizing the scrawl immediately.

“Ron,” she murmured with a fond smile.

She read it once, then again, slower. And by the end, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled with something warm and proud.

Arthur came in behind her, newspaper tucked under one arm.

“Letter from the boy?” he asked, sipping tea.

Molly nodded and wordlessly passed it to him.

As he read, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He glanced up at her over the parchment.

“She knitted him socks, eh?”

“She did,” Molly said, stirring her stew again. “And she learned from the best.”

Arthur chuckled, folding the letter neatly and setting it on the counter.

“She’s the one, then.”

Molly just smiled, eyes on the bubbling pot, already imagining their future.

“She’s been the one.”

[paramountinplace]

Could you write something about Mari shyly asking if she could get a Luke skywalker action figure cause she saw that Mel got a Darth Vader action figure as a reward. Van and Tai were at first very skeptical thinking maybe she was asking as a new way to tease Mel but no she just secretly loves Star Wars. And absolutely lights up when they (hesitantly) agree to get it for her.

(I am pushing my silly little ‘Mari is actually a secret nerd’ agenda)

I Choose Luke - Little!Mari

Summary: As detailed above! Mari badly wants a Luke Skywalker action figure, but is met with a bit of skepticism. Turns out, she just loves Star Wars.

Mari had been inching closer and closer to Van ever so slowly, trying to make her approach seem casual. Van was pretending not to notice the girl staring at her and taking a few steps closer at a time, wanting to see how this was going to play out. Finally, Mari gave up the act of casually getting Van's attention and threw herself down on the couch next to her.

"Oh, hey, kiddo!" Van greeted, enthusiastically. "Where'd you come from?"

The look she got in return was disbelieving.

"I was right there," Mari replied, pointing a few feet away.

"I didn't even notice," Van said drily.

Mari huffed but waved a hand between them dismissively.

"I have a question," she stated. Van nodded encouragingly. Mari took a deep breath before speaking again. "I want a new toy."

"You've got an allowance, don't you?"

"No!" Mari cried, crossing her arms. "You know that."

"Alright, alright, sorry, kid," Van relented. "Done with the jokes."

"You know how I've been so good about not getting into fights with Shauna?" Mari asked.

Van considered this. Mari had, by all accounts, been unusually well behaved in the past week. She'd gotten into no more than two minor disputes with Gen, hadn't said a mean word when Misty came home drenched by the rain, done all her chores without being asked, and taken care of Akilah for a whole day without complaining about it once. And, as she'd claimed, she hadn't gotten into any fights with Shauna—not even when the other girl had nicked a few of Mari's barbies to use in her reenactment of the Titanic.

"You have been quite good about that, Mar," she agreed. Mari's face lit up and she nodded eagerly, leaning a little closer to Van in her excitement.

"And you know how you got Mel something for getting her cast off without throwing a fit?"

Van nodded. They had gotten Mel something for getting her cast off without throwing a fit, as had been frantically promised by Tai when Mel burst into tears upon being told she would have to go back to the hospital in a week to get her cast off. She'd very carefully picked out a Darth Vader action figure, holding up proudly to Van once she'd made her selection. Mel had been in a bit of a Star Wars phase and had been wearing the same Stormtrooper-emblazoned hat every day for more than a month.

"We did do that, yeah."

"So, I was thinking maybe I could get something too if I keep not fighting with Shauna," Mari mumbled, suddenly shy as she looked down at her lap.

Van smiled, reaching out to tip Mari's chin up. She didn't think Tai would mind if she agreed without consulting her.

"That sounds like a great plan, bub," she said. "If you can give me one more week without fighting, we'll go to the store, okay?"

The ultimatum motivated Mari so much over the next week that she strayed into absurdity—avoiding Shauna at all costs, which Tai quickly put a stop to when she realized and explained to Mari that while she was glad she was taking it so seriously, avoiding Shauna was probably more likely to end in a fight than just being nice.

Despite one minor spat, Tai and Van decided at the end of the week that Mari had done well enough to earn her reward. Mari was thrumming with quiet excitement as they buckled her into the car, kicking her feet happily as they made the trip to the store. She was so excited that she didn't say a word as they arrived, letting Van and Tai follow her into a toy aisle as she weaved through the store with expert precision.

She picked something up off a shelf and turned back to them.

"Done," she murmured. Tai blinked as Van hide a chuckle behind her hand. They'd been expecting as least twenty minutes of back-and-forth alongside multiple requests to go to a different store or to type something into Google to see if there was a better version of a toy.

"What've you got, honey?" Tai asked.

Mari bit her lip before revealing the toy from behind her back.

"Luke," she whispered.

Van winced, knowing immediately that they were gonna have to vet the pick before they allowed her to take it home.

"Why Luke, Mar?" She asked gently, trying not to seem too accusatory. It just seemed a little too opportune with Mel's new Darth Vader figure. Mari was clever—she could find a way to use the toy to taunt Mel in some way.

Mari looked a little confused at the question.

"Because," she said matter-of-factly, "he's a Jedi and he's the best fighter of all of them. Even better than Obi-Wan."

Van had to hide her face behind her hand again, so endeared by the answer that she could barely keep from laughing. Now that she was thinking about it, Mari had been present at every single one of Mel's Star Wars movie nights. She kept pretending her bike helmet was a Stormtrooper helmet and she'd gotten into a row with Mel about which lightsaber color she would have if she were a Jedi. She'd even begged for a copy of the Lego Star Wars game for the Nintendo, which Van had barely thought twice about because of course Mari wanted that one—it was the third coolest one.

"I think she's serious, Tai," she murmured. Tai nodded slowly, still a little skeptical.

"What are you gonna do with Luke?"

Mari shrugged. "Make him fight my Barbies. Fly an X-wing. Maybe get stranded in the freezer. Dunno yet, really."

Tai's face melted into a smile and she nodded.

"Alright, Mar. Let's pay and get you home, then."

She bounced up on her toes, grinning happily as she reluctantly handed the toy over to Tai so she could pay for it while her and Van looked at the trading cards by the register. Once paid, she reached for it again and kept it held closely against her side the entire ride home, sprinting into the house once they'd arrived to find Mel.

"Look, Mel, look!" She cried, skidding into the kitchen.

"Shoes!" Tai reminded, shucking her coat off. Mari toed them off where she was standing, leaving them in the middle of the floor as she and Mel took off to get her Darth Vader figure to play with. She hadn't even taken Luke out of the packaging yet.

Van went over to pick up the shoes, returning Tai's eyebrow raise with a smile and a shrug.

"Aw, c'mon, she's so excited. She wasn't trying to be a pain. You'd let me get away with it," she defended, watching a Tai's mouth twisted into a smile.

"I would," she hummed.

Mari came sliding back into the kitchen, breathless and brandishing her toy with Mel close behind her.

"Can you help us open this, please?" She asked sweetly. Tai grabbed a scissors from a drawer, carefully extracting the toy from the plastic as Mari and Mel watched, tense with anticipation.

"There you go," she said, handing Mari the toy. Mel squealed and immediately ran into the other room, but Mari hesitated by Tai's side for a long moment.

"Um, thank you for the toy," she rushed out, cheeks flushing as she gave Tai a quick hug, doing the same to Van before she hurried after Mel.

"Too cute," Van mused, shaking her head, "too cute."

I never know how to end these. Hope you enjoy, anon, sorry for the bit of a wait!

[ex0rin]

ive been thinking about this because every hermitcraft rfp enjoyer goes about it differently. but if you were ever forced to give etho a physical description how would you ho about it? since he is the worlds most mysterious man, i see people going about it in all different ways. so im curious how you would handle it.

hello! i feel like this is a whole can of worms but let's get to it 😂 (thank you for asking please no one come for me about this)

i'm so torn on this one because like, honestly, when i think about etho i kind of think of him as like, a skinny little neckbeard nerd in a basement which is kinda not traditionally sexy and i blame his desk set-up entirely for these thoughts:

i've had friends who've had a desk set-up like this 😅 (affectionate, i promise you)

also, you didn't ask but i assume he's a virgin who lives with his mom and jerks off after every stream and has spent a lot of time perfecting his cool, nonchalant online demeanour to compensate for what he's actually like irl (hella awkward and uncomfortable in group settings)

THAT SAID when i write about him in the future he'll be most of those things but he'll look like a tree planter who's been away from home for months at a time, unwashed and filthy from being out in the woods

that neckbeard from earlier stays but he's also able to toss someone casually over his shoulder, put some grey in his hair and make the rest of it dark, give him a permanent tan from being outdoors, he can have the standard 'i don't know your eye colour' blue eyes, make him a bit wild at the edges with hands and fingers that are rough with callouses

and make whoever is in the fic with him be like:

so anyway, that's what we're going with, sorry or your welcome depending if you love this or hate it 😂

[theside-b]

So before we jump into another VBL and embark on what is perhaps their craziest outing, here are a few fun facts about The Promise of The Soul:

an adaptation of a now classic web-novel of the same name by Hsu Tzu, the show actually comes on the 20-year anniversary of the source material.

Martin and Kenji, the main CP, hail from Hong Kong and unlike the other VBL duos they not only already knew each other but already have worked together a few times, and for a reason...

During their stint as hosts of reality show Taste Hunter things took a turn for them, with their chemistry being noticed by the audience and they suddenly saw themselves being turned into a popular make-shift branded CP.

From all other markets, they are one of the most similar to what we see in the thai brand-pair system.

Secondary couple consists in Hung Wei and Li Ting, both contestants from the second season of survival show Atom Boyz, the same show that revealed Nelson Ji from Fight For You.

It's the first VBL show to feature a GL couple!

Joe Tsai, the heart and soul of the VBL shows is back again at the helm, taking credit for direction and writing.

I've noticed that Vidol has been quite clever when recruiting talent, enlisting actors from Hong Kong and placing bets on up-n-coming idols similarly to what we see in Japan. Tsai has also brought back a few familiar faces, from Papa & Daddy, to HIStory and now See Your Love.

Off-screen this one might play differently from Eternal Butler and Fight For You, in the sense that since the leads are from Hong Kong and as such we might not see them promoting in the same style we got from previous VBL titles, and while I do expect to see them on the field for the marketing blitz it seems it's going to be different from everything else.

Personal take here: Joe Tsai has already stated that a crucial part of the VBL shows is what we get from the CP off-screen, she cherry-picks them looking at their sheer chemistry and potential, now with seven shows under her belt it feels like prime time to select which resonated the most with audiences and bring them back for the next round.

[ari-writist]

ROMANCE WITH ZORO

[headcanon] PRE TIMESKIP

• Zoro is someone who dreams to be the greatest swordsman, we all know that. Achieving romance with zoro is unlikely given that he is focused on his goal, but if, for some unexplained reason, this guy actually managed to get in his brain that he's in love, I think this is how it would go.

• Zoro is more of an action type rather than verbal, so he would show you that he cares in action. Through body language, maybe like, standing close to you without realizing it, offering you water or food without comment, or looking away when you catch him staring.

• Even though he likes you, he might not get into a relationship with you so it'll all just be unspoken tension between you two. (I love you but I can't. Why not? Ahhh)

• He might train himself more and avoid you, because if he gives in, he's going to lose sight of his goal — he's gonna be in denial. Also, he'd be mad at you, at himself, at the world. Because you’re now a distraction—a distraction with soft eyes and a laugh that echoes in his head while he’s trying to train.

• But he'd train harder, push himself more, and sleep less, because if he can just be strong enough — maybe he won’t need to choose between you and his dream.

• He avoids you. Not in an obvious way, he'd just always be somewhere else, and if you ask him why, he’ll grunt and say, “Got stuff to do.”

• He thinks about telling you once. But whenever he opens his mouth, the words taste like betrayal so he swallows them with sake and silence.

• Eventually, he would just stay in one place once he sees your down casted face every time he goes somewhere else if you're around, but he wouldn't actively seek for you, if you did for him then this man is not going to move from his place. He would just listen to you talk, or do whatever you want to do by his side.

• He would always be looking at you. His eyes would trail on where you once were if you were to disappear and if you manage to catch his eyes he would either close them to pretend like he's taking a nap or he would look away out in the distant sea.

• But why wouldn't he let himself love you? It's because he thinks that love will weaken him. That if he lets himself fall, he’ll lose the drive to stand back up. That if he chooses you, he'd be failing Kuina, his promise, his vow.

• Also because he believes he doesn’t deserve you yet. He thinks you deserve someone who can give you a future, not a man chasing ghosts with a sword on his back.

• But zoro isn't stubborn. No, no, he's terrified. Because once he lets himself love you, it won't be halfway — it will never be — it will be everything. And you’re the only thing in this world more dangerous than Mihawk’s blade.

IM GETTING THE HANG OF THIS. Anyways, as alwaysz this one is kind of rushed, wanted to get it all out of my head first. But when I read it, I thought it was good enough so I'll just post it and possibly edit it again when I wake up when I realize that omg wrong grammar, yeah when that hits me. Anyways, hope you guys had fun reading this.

Spoiler alert, I'm actually writing a short fic about this. Idk how to write angst properly — oops? Wasn't supposed to say that.

I WAS ABOUT TO SLEEP TIGHT WHEN I FORGOT TO ADD TAGS GAH

[thewillofdeez]

Temporarily coming back from the grave with this silly little thing. It's been a year, y'all. I'm tired. I miss writing stupid stuff. 😮‍💨 Unfortunately, I am going immediately back into the grave. Bye! 👋

[Mihawk kicks open the door of Buggy's office, Crocodile behind him.]

Buggy: What the hell?!

Mihawk: It's time.

Crocodile: We are actually going to murder you.

Mihawk: And we're going to do it slowly so we can savor it.

Buggy: What did I do?!

Crocodile: Don't play dumb, you know exactly what you did!

Mihawk: I could deal with the poster insinuating that we're working under you. I could deal with that godawful ship of yours. But this is too much.

Buggy: *crying* Please, I didn't do anything, just tell me what it is and I'll make it better, I promise!

Crocodile: Are you seriously telling me you didn't know anything about THESE?! *Slams these bad boys down on the desk*

Buggy: 😳 Oh. No, I didn't....But...but they're so CUTE!!! 🤩

Mihawk: They're NOT cute, they're an insult!! I'm not cute!!!

Buggy: But look at his grumpy lil' pout! And Croc, that mischievous grin! They're adorable!

Crocodile: Shut the hell up, they're not cute!

Mihawk: Did you truly not know anything about these?!

Buggy: I didn't! But I love them! Are we selling them?!

Crocodile: .........

Buggy: .........

Mihawk: ..............yes.

Crocodile: We've made millions of berri practically overnight.

Mihawk: They are, regrettably, a hit.

Buggy: Then what's the problem?!

Crocodile: The problem is that YOUR crew made cutesy figurines out of two the most powerful, terrifying pirates in the world! AND THEN SOLD THEM TO THE PUBLIC!

Mihawk: One of the most powerful, terrifying pirates in the world, and Crocodile. But the point stands.

Crocodile: ....I'm going to ignore that for now only because the clown is the current target of my ire.

Buggy: Wait, so where's my figure?! Why didn't my crew make one of me?!

Crocodile: Oh, they did.

Mihawk: And that's the worst part. They did. *Slams another figure down on the desk.*

Buggy: 😳 Hoo boy.....I can't grovel my way outta this one, can I?

Crocodile: Nope.

Mihawk: Come now, clown. We're going for a swim.

Buggy: