#and in a way kinda yeah but it also still gets there to that tentative hope again without it feeling like it was all for nothing like the

[floralovebot]

well after seeing the little specialists trailer my current thoughts are: they don't look as bad as they did in the first trailer but they're still not great and i'm mostly worried that they've turned them into even more of a "generic prince charming" group. we'll have to wait and see obviously - hopefully it will be better! but idk, i have some worries after that video. sky being Super leadery... timmy being way more serious (like don't get me wrong, he always had a serious side to him but he did Also have a goofier, lighthearted nerd side to him. both things can be true at once)

it looks like they got rid of the switch thing which i expected from the leaks but it does still kind of suck. but i'm also not surprised considering just how much plot they're trying to pack into one season. that's the thing though - because they're trying to do so much, they end up doing so little. they've always had an issue with trying to balance 5-6 main characters and 5-6 partners and now they're trying to condense like 2-3 three different seasons into one and it's like,,, i just don't believe any of them will be any more interesting than they were in the og. and i'm inclined to think that the specialists will be even less interesting and they didn't get a great starting hand in the first place

[the-ninth-opossum]

scully's right. they should get her a fucking desk. it's been 3.5 seasons.

[lesbianpikachu]

.

[prosypepper]

hi mootie, here’s a good morning forehead smooch 💋

i’m looking for a f!plus size x toji fic 🥀 my obsession with his grimy ass has came back ten fold.

maybe something along the lines of being his ‘bestie’ (let’s be so fr this man has NO friends.) and he invites u to the beach so he doesn’t have to go with just shiu or sum like that…

sees u in a revealing swimsuit n goes bonkers. OR MAYBE kinda like a comfort bc reader doesn’t feel good in the suit…

even if u choose not to write this it still felt great to get out of my system, ily pls don’t go bald mwah

BABE MY LOVE I WAS SO HAPPY TO SEE U BACK ON THE DASH!!! I MISSED YOUUUUUUU!!!!! also i have some thoughts………ur so smart.

a/n: smut, comfort of insecurities, plus size fem reader, this is lowkey SO BAD and im so sorry but i wanted to do this for u 🫶🫶🫶 18+ mdni!

“where have you been hiding that?”

toji whistles when you walk out of the bathroom you’d been forced to share for the weekend, sleazy grin on his face from where he’s sitting on the bed.

“you’ve seen me naked like four times,” you retort, climbing onto the bed beside him to rummage through your bag of clothes, “also i’m changing. i look disgusting.”

toji’s taken aback by your statement, utterly dumbfounded at a pretty thing like you saying such harsh things about herself. he’d never denied how attractive he thought you were, always flirting and riling you up when he had the chance. hell, you guys had even fucked before, albeit on all sorts of drugs, but now?

toji thought you looked better sober. you’re the first girl he’d ever thought that about, too, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“disgusting?” he repeats after you, word tweaking into a question.

“yes, disgusting. gross, ugly, nasty, whatever. i hate this stupid bikini but i didn’t have the cash to buy a new one,” you complain, still angrily shoving through your bag and getting angrier when you didn’t find anything to cover up with.

“babydoll,” toji coos, smoothing a hand over your back, “what makes you say that?” toji’s voice is dropped lower, concerned, almost. it was so unlike you to say such a thing. toji didn’t care for many people, but you’d been there for him in the most trying of times, there was no way he’d let you think that about yourself.

especially when he was about to lose it at just the sight of you.

“i just..” you sigh, slumping your shoulders, “i don’t know. i just feel so gross now, like nothing looks good on me and i just feel so ugly. like i’m surprised you’re not embarrassed to be seen with me—.”

“woah, slow down,” he interrupts, taking a breath to collect his thoughts, keeping the soothing hand on your back. “you’re.. damn gorgeous, y’know that. i tell you all the time.”

“yeah but that’s different, we’re friends, plus we only had sex when you were drunk or whatever so obviously you have to be in an altered state to wanna—,”

“stop.”

you’re shut up immediately, looking at toji confused, because why did he care so much? the both of you hold eye contact before toji’s eyes flicker down, causing you to do the same—down his chest and torso, right to the tent in his swim trunks.

“toji!” you laugh, shoving his chest—and toji just grins. cocky.

“that’s all you, babe.”

“you’re so gross.”

“show me how gross you think i am.”

“toji!”

“yeah, baby, scream my name just like that.”

there’s barely room for you to get any words out with the way toji’s stretching you out on the counter of the bathroom. you’re teetering on the edge of the marble, the only thing holding you up are toji’s arms and the desperate grip you have around his neck.

fifteen minutes ago you were complaining about your looks.. and now, he won’t even give you the chance to complain. your bikini bottoms are pulled to the side and the top is resting below your tits, showing all of you off to him.

you’re beautiful like this.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” toji mumbles, looking down at your blissed expression—eyes glued shut, eyebrows knitted together, mouth dropping open and closing with miniscule whimpers. “hold on tight, doll.”

without much warning, toji picks you up with one motion, holding your legs around him with strong hands. a slew of words come out as you try to tell him he’s going to drop you—but you never hit the floor. he’s still for a moment as he slides himself allll the way in, practically stabbing your cervix, you’re sure.

“fucking—pleaseplease, wait,” you babble, not used to the stretch of toji’s cock inside of you, “too much—it’s, mmph—toji.”

“too much, gorgeous?” he chuckles, cute name slipping off his tongue naturally, laughing more when you nod quickly. yet he does anything but pause, bouncing you up and down on his length like you’re weightless.

“sorry, pretty. can’t help myself.”

[munsonify]

rushed farewell

pairing. bob reynolds x fem!reader

summary. bob bids you an unexpected goodbye before you head off on a weekend long mission

content warnings. smut 18+, hickies, oral (f!recieving), kissing/making out, clingy!bob, bob being completely pussy whipped, hair tugging (m!receiving), slightly subby!bob, bob with a praise kink, a little bit of aftercare, alludes to more

word count. 2119

a/n. first bob smut you guys are welcome. also not proofread and kinda rushed so yeah

———

bob has grown accustomed to having you around. he never thought he’d have such contentment in his life. there was a roof over his head, he was surrounded by people who truly cared about him, he didn’t feel nearly as on-edge as he’d been used to all his life. while it took some time for you to wiggle your way into his life, the moment you had, you knew you were there for good, and so did he.

it’s why it was so hard for bob to see you leave, no matter how short you were gone for missions, or how long you’d be back and by his side for afterwards. he knew you’d be careful, you always were. you began making promises to see him soon, to reassure him that you’d always find your way back to him. it eased his mind enough to let you go from his embraces, to kiss you long and desperate one last time before you walked away. there were some days he left it at that.

other days, however, he couldn’t help but seek out a little more to tide him over.

you’d spent your very early morning getting yourself ready for the long weekend ahead of you. your next three days were going to be spent across the country in california, packed full of things that needed your attention. a tense, day long mission you were to spend undercover with walker - who you knew would get under your skin within an hour - and a debriefing with some of valentina’s little minions you were sure were going to take up way too much of your time.

you practically begged ava to take your spot, even bribing her with the idea of doing her laundry for a month. it was no use, your time spent wasted the moment she gave you a firm no. her last mission was with walker, and she wasn’t going to do it again unless she had to.

you’d just finished up brushing your teeth when you heard the bathroom door open up gently. without even looking over, hands fumbling with your toothbrush as you tuck it into a holder and sliding it into your bag, you smiled. you knew exactly who it was.

“good morning, sleepyhead,” you whispered out as strong arms wrapped around your waist. bob, whose hair was disheveled and eyes were dropping from sleep, had found his way from your bed to your bathroom in search of your warmth. you could feel the small smile on his lips with the way he tucks his face into the crook of your neck, settling there as he hugs you from behind

“g’morning,” he mumbled against you, his voice and stubble tickling your skin. bob placed a slow, gentle kiss to your neck after he spoke, something you absolutely adored. you let yourself lean back into him and his warmth, basking in the attention he always gave you when you were alone. he was always too nervous, too reserved to show this sort of affection elsewhere. you thought it was endearing.

bob didn’t stop his kisses at just one. he placed several lazy, firm kisses against your neck and the slope of your shoulder, hands moving to your hips as he worked slowly. even fresh out of sleep, he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. you shook your head slightly, a small smile playing on your own lips.

“bob,” you warned simply, yet your head still tilted to the side to give him room to kiss. you made the mistake of rocking your hips back slightly, the swell of your ass catching the tip of his half hard cock through his tented boxers, earning a quiet gasp from the man. with a heavy heart, you reluctantly spoke again. “gotta leave soon, baby, i’m sorry.”

“just 10 minutes?” bob asked against your skin, teeth sinking into the side of your neck gently, the start of his journey to suck a hickey against your pulse point. through the bathroom mirror, you could see the man hunched over behind you, working away at your skin, successfully sucking the beginning of love bite.

you squirmed in his hold, adjusting yourself so you could face bob directly, finally getting to see him face to face. his blue eyes were a little blocked by his slightly dilated pupils, though you could still see the way they shimmered down at you. carefully, you pushed strands of hair away from his face, before leaning in to kiss his lips. he accepted the kiss gratefully, hands still gripping your hips desperately. bob used that grip on you to gently guide you out of the bathroom in a stumble, tugging you towards the messy bed you’d just been sleeping in together.

“i really don’t have much time,” you mumbled against his lips, hands moving to rest against his shoulders in attempts to steady yourself. he only kissed you again, deeper this time, stopping you in your tracks. it was like bob was trying to prove to you that he was sure, that he could be quick. he could be, he knew he could be. he wanted you to know that, too, and he thought the only way to prove that was by showing you.

“i know, i know,” bob insisted, pulling away from the kiss so he could guide you properly, watching as your knees hit the end of your bed, causing you to sit down on the very edge.

bob found his way to his knees in front of you in an instant, large hands resting on top of your clothed thighs. his eyes looked up at you pleasingly, waiting patiently for your permission to continue. you let out a soft sigh, face heating up as you spread your legs open, nodding in agreement. his fingers hooked against the waistband of your sweats, slipping the fabric down past your hips the moment you lifted them up, discarding them off to the side. he settled his between your thighs in an instant, gripping your hips again just to adjust you properly, angling your hips up slightly to give him better access.

his hands trail down to your thighs again, pushing them open a little wider than you had, eyes zoning in on the growing wet patch in the middle of your panties. you brought a hand up to bobs head, softly stroking his hair as you spoke, an eyebrow raised slightly. “ten minutes, honey, are you sure?”

your eyes trailed down his body, forcing yourself passed his abs, sight settling at his aching bulge. bob nodded quickly, excitedly, eyes coming back up to yours. everything about him was pleading for it. “yeah, so sure, baby.”

you nodded at bob again after he spoke, watching as he sighs in relief, hands still spread wide against the warm skin of your thighs as he finally leans into you.

it started off with warm, wet kisses against your inner thighs, something that turned into a sloppy mess of hickeys planted against your skin, a soon reminder of his presence for when you’re so far away from him. bobs mouth eventually found its way to your cunt, still confined in your cotton panties. that didn’t matter to him just yet, his lips still kissing you through the cloth. it was a soft kiss placed right above the arousal that’s pooled there, the taste he craved just right there.

“just gotta taste it one last time before you leave,” bob mumbled out, eyelids hooded as his kisses trailed up to your clit, aching and waiting for his touch. “gotta have it, gonna miss you so bad.”

bob wasn’t trying to be seductive, really he wasn’t. he tends to ramble on when he’s around you, especially when you two are intimate together. he can’t help but voice what he’s thinking. it’s all a little new to him, and he wants you to know how much he truly wants you. it all has your head spinning with need. you try your best not to shift closer to him, wanting to let him savor it, to have his moment with you. he doesn’t make it easy for you as he moves a hand under your hip, lifting you upwards enough for him to tug your panties off, before letting you settle back down against the comfortable bed.

the whine that left bobs mouth was incredible, the simple sight of your dripping pussy sending his mind out the window for the brief time he has you for. you knew better by now not to keep yourself upright, the moment his tongue glides its way up your aching pussy, dragging firmly against your slick, you allow yourself to lay back against the bed. bobs tongue began tracing against your folds, mapping out what he’s already felt a thousand times by now.

even then, there wasn’t a ton of skill behind how bob ate you out. he’s learned a lot from you, letting you guide him through it, doubling down on what makes you moan particularly well. that didn’t stop him from being messy, tongue running against you in search of your addicting arousal. when you’ve got him between your thighs, all you can really do is grip onto his hair and let him do his thing. and man was he doing it well this morning.

your fingers tugged at the ends of bobs hair the moment his pink lips found their way to your clit, suckling on it with pure need. one of your hands flew up quickly to your mouth, a weak attempt to contain a high pitched whine spilling from your lips. you’d hate for this to be cut short, for someone to overhear and complain. you kept that hand plastered against your mouth the entire time bobs mouth was on you, only barely muffling your desperate sounds. even with the blockage, he could hear the way you praised him, small ‘so good’’s and quiet ‘keep going’’s finding his ears. a choked moan made its way out of his mouth at every genuine praise you gave him.

with your knees knocked further apart, back arching slightly into his mouth, he messily began switching between your aching clit and your fluttering hole. he licked and suck at every inch of your wet cunt, a barely there rhythm present in his movements. whines and whimpers left both of your mouths, maybe just a little two loudly as he coaxed you towards fast approaching orgasm. bob could feel how close you are in the way your desperate hole clenched against his tongue, the way your moans picked up an octave, the way your body tensed up under his touch. everything in you screamed for him to stay, to keep going, to make you come.

bob did just that, lips wrapped around your clit firmly, sucking and licking at it sloppily. you’d be embarrassed by the way it sounded - wet and slurping and messy - if you weren’t so caught up in your release, fingers tugging at his hair a little tighter now. your hand did nothing to block your moans as you came on bobs mouth, his hands gripping your thighs to keep them open, tongue not stopping in the slightest.

pleasure turned into overstimulation quickly, hissing slightly as both of your hands began to paw gently at bobs head. he caught on a little slow, eyes fluttering as he eventually pulls away. your chest heaved as you rest yourself up in one of your elbows, one hand still at his head, fingers threaded through his soft hair. you began petting his hair again as bob kissed your inner thighs again, his eyes now staring up at you through pretty eyelashes. the sight of him between your legs kneeling for you, chin and lips coated in your arousal, eyes hooded with desire had your eyes fluttering heavily down at him, another zip of need coursing through your body.

“did i do good?” bob asked expectantly, waiting patiently for your approval. you gave him the dopiest reassuring smile, one that made him smile back at you. he pushed himself off of his knees, slowly crawling on top of you, large body hovering over top of you.

“so good, baby, always so good f’me,” you affirmed, your hand cradling the back of his head now. bob nodded appreciatively at your words, quick to lean down to kiss your lips, still slick with his spit and your arousal. he always made such a mess, and you loved it. when you pulled away from the kiss, you brought your lips up to his ear, just inches away from it as you whispered. “gonna make it up to you the moment i get back.”

[diaryofaprettyprincess]

pervy!carmechanic!stepdad!eddie munson x innocent!stepdaughter!reader where her daddy's been coming into her room at night n her rubbing her until she squeals with delight, coming on his fingers, her stuffies, etc.

she feels those familiar butterflies flutter in her tummy when she sits on the lawn chair, watching eddie fix her cherry red car, his tattooed knuckles slowly becoming more dirty with grease as she sucks on her watermelon lollipop, biting her lower lip as she watches her stepdaddy roll out from under the car. she pushes her heart-shaped sunglasses on the top of her head.

eddie looks at her. god, he thinks, she was so beautiful he wanted to cry.

"baby," he watches her eyes light up, "can u grab me the wrench next to u behind the bench?"

she nods, biting her lower lip as she tries to tame those naughty butterflies.

she stands up, walking to the work bench before bending over to display her pink cotton panties, eddie's mouth practically watering as he pushes down on the tent forming quickly in his pants.

"i-i don't see it, daddy.." she bends down further, and eddie watches her swollen folds press against the thin material of her underwear, biting his lower lip.

"jus-just down more, sweet girl--think it might be under the tool box.." his words are airy and soft as she bends over further, and he catches small wet patch spreading on her panties. "good girl."

suddenly, she pops up, "found it, daddy!" she skips over to where eddie is sitting on the garage floor, handing him the wrench.

"t-thank you, baby."

she beams, her cunt aching as she bites her lower lip, suppressing a whimper as she sits back down on the lawn chair, spreading her legs n not thinking much of it as eddie forces himself to get back to work, the bulge in his pants throbbing.

--

about fifteen minutes later, she decides to go inside as she was getting warm all over--yes, from the heat of summer but also from her body pricking with arousal.

inside, she tries everything to satiate the hunger that burns between her thighs, but nothing seems to work. she spends five minutes rubbing her fat button on her bear stuffie, wetness soaking the fur but alas, no help. she pulls her panties up all of the way until her swollen folds envelope the material, her hips rutting. (eddie did this to her once before as he sucks on her pebbled nipples n she came almost immediately, but it didnt work this time). her lust clouded her mind so incredibly much that she tried rutting her bare cunt against the corner of her bed, but that didnt even work!

she huffed, grabbing her emotional support teddy as she walked back outside to the garage, the butterflies practically fluttering a tornado in her belly.

eddie was busy wiping the grease off of his hands with a ratty washcloth. his messy hair tied back in a loose bun, his facial hair making her heart pound.

"daddy?" her voice came out small n squeaky, and eddie recognized this.

"princess?"

she smiled softly and timidly, twiddling with the fur on her stuffie.

"i got butterflies in my belly,"she pouted softly, tears forming in her doe eyes with frustration as she looked up at her stepfather. "hurts."

eddie's breath hitched in his throat before he cleared it multiple times, running his index finger n thumb over the hairs above his upper lip. "yeah? what kinda butterflies u got,sweet girl?"

she only bit her lower lip nervously. talking about sexual things still made her incredibly shy.

eddie continued , his tone soft and sweet. "the normal ones or the ones where u want daddy to come into ur room in the middle of the night to fix em?"

lets just say her daddy spent three hours fixing her dilemma.

FJSDKFJKFD OKAY THATS ALL I GOT hehe

[0cta9on]

Golden Hour Café

Length: 1.8k words

Genre: Fluff

Nmixx Kyujin x (G)-idle Soyeon x Male Reader

(Author's Note: Wrote this for a prompt thingy hosted by @woollypoison! Thenk yew ooly, it was very fun :] Also, using a different divider cuz I had formatting issues with the other one :> Enjoy!)

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚✩࿐

The faint scent of roasted coffee beans wafts past your nostrils as you sweep the empty cafe. There’s no reason to—there hasn’t been any customers for the past couple hours—but it’s better than sitting around doing nothing, and your uncle will give you an earful if he catches you slacking off again. The summer sun casts long rays of golden light through the windows. It’s already hot enough even with the AC on blast, so you try to sweep around those areas.

Some song by The Beatles blasts through the speakers, echoing throughout the empty cafe. A favorite of your uncle’s, but not something you would ever listen to willingly. With the way Kyujin is bobbing her head as she wipes down the tables, it might become one of her favorites too. 

“Don’t tell me you actually like this song,” you mutter.

Your friend shrugs. “It’s kinda catchy.”

“It’s so… old, though.”

“Maybe I’m just an old soul.”

“Old soul?” you chuckle. “But you look like a—Ow.” She slaps your arm with a wet rag.

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.” Kyujin tries to glare, but it comes off more like an angry kitten rather than anything remotely threatening.

“Whatever.” You plop into one of the booths with a long sigh, dropping the broom at your feet. “So much for an opening day.”

Kyujin sits across from you, leaning her head on the table. “It wasn’t so bad. Five customers is pretty good for the first day.”

“Four,” you point out. “One of them was only here to use the bathroom.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but sinks into the table with a dejected sigh instead. “Just trying to be optimistic,” she mutters, voice muffled.

Your uncle waltzes in from the back, whistling along to the song. “Hey kiddos, how are we…” His voice falters as he sees the two of you sitting down, disheartened and exhausted. “C’mon, it’s just opening day. We’ll get more customers eventually,” he tries to cheer you up, but the uncertainty in his voice speaks louder than his words.

“I guess…” you utter.

“Yeah…” Kyujin adds.

You feel bad, but not for lack of trying. Your uncle spent months getting this cafe up and running, even quitting his old desk job so he could focus all his efforts on his real dream. It’s commendable, to say the least. You watched him put all his blood, sweat, and tears into this place—you just wish other people saw that too.

“Um, sir?” Kyujin asks, tentatively raising her hand.

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir’, Kyujin,” your uncle grins. “What’s up?”

“Do we… still get paid?” Your head shoots up at the thought of your first paycheck.

He sighs. “Yes, of course. Just not until the end of the week.”

You and Kyujin sink back into the leather cushions with a groan. You spent the entire day here, barely making a handful of drinks, and you have to do that four more times until you get paid? Working is a scam.

“Why don’t I go buy us some dinner while you two close up shop for today, huh?” your uncle offers. “What are we feeling? Pizza? Burgers? Chinese?”

Kyujin looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to choose. You stifle a smile as her wide eyes peer into yours. You almost forget to answer, too distracted by the way her eyes sparkle like the sun. “Uh, I’m fine with anything. You?” you ask her. Her lips curl into that giddy smile that never fails to make your heart flutter.

“Pizza, please!” she exclaims.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a few with some pizzas.” The door chime rings as your uncle makes his exit, leaving you two to close up shop. You run through the mental checklist in your mind, but considering you’ve done nothing but clean all day, most of the work is already done.

“Y’know, when the cafe gets busier, we’ll probably miss quiet days like these,” Kyujin comments as she stacks up the chairs.

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I’d much rather make drinks than pointlessly push the broom around for hours.”

She chuckles, her cheeks puffing up like marshmallows. For a moment, you imagine what it must feel like, pinching them in between your fingers. “Hey, at least your hands aren’t all clammy from that wash rag. If anything you got the easy job,” she says.

“Aww, you worried a little rag is gonna ruin your soft baby hands?” Kyujin suddenly attacks you with a flurry of slaps against your arm, but in all her fury, it just ends up tickling. “What are you doing? Stop!”

“Stop being mean!”

“I’m not being mean—”

The door chime jingles, and the two of you freeze. A woman with long black hair and dressed in a cool denim jacket stands in the doorway, eyeing the two of you oddly.

“Uh, are you still open?” she asks, gaze bouncing back and forth between you two.

“U-um, yes we are!” You quickly take down one of the chairs just for her while Kyujin scurries behind the counter.

“What would you like to drink, ma’am?” Kyujin asks in that customer service tone the two of you practiced last night.

“Just an iced americano,” the woman answers coolly.

“Coming right up!”

You join Kyujin behind the counter, both to help and so you don’t just stand around awkwardly. She grabs a plastic cup and shovels ice into it, the cubes clattering loudly. “Americanos are just espresso and water, right?” she whispers, glancing up at you.

“Yeah,” you answer. “You remember how to pull a shot?”

“Duh, I’m not you,” she smirks, twisting the portafilter into the espresso machine. You almost slap her arm, but stop yourself, not wanting to mess her up. Kyujin presses a button on the machine, causing it to hum to life before dripping liquid gold into the tiny glass underneath. 

She leans in, inspecting it closely. “Crema looks decent,” she mutters.

“Okay Gordon Ramsay, it’s not rocket science,” you tease.

“That doesn’t even make sense, he’s a chef, not a barista, stupid. Now move!” she hisses, waving you away as if she needs ample space just to pour espresso over ice cubes. She finishes it off with a splash of cold water, stirs the dark brown concoction with a spoon, and caps it off.

“One iced americano, for Miss, uh…” Kyujin blanks out.

“Soyeon. Thanks, kid,” she grins, taking the drink and bringing the straw to her lips. The two of you can’t help but watch in anticipation as she tastes the drink that the two of y— er, Kyujin made. “Not bad.”

You and Kyujin jump into each other’s arms, squealing and bouncing around in joy. Perhaps you hold onto her for a little too long or a little tightly, but if her laughter is any indication of things, she doesn’t seem to mind. After a long, boring day, it feels good to end on a win.

“Are you two dating or something?” Soyeon. chuckles, taking a seat near the counter. Kyujin suddenly scrambles off of you, her face turning pink like a sunburn.

“N-no! We’re not! Just friends!” she exclaims, waving her hands wildly in embarrassment.

“Y-yeah, just friends…” you echo, trying to mask the pain in your voice.

“Right…” Soyeon looks around the cafe, admiring the old time-y decorations that your uncle set up. “Is this place new? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”

“Yeah, we just opened today. My uncle owns the cafe,” you answer.

“Ooh, cool. Must be fun working with your girlfriend.”

“S-she’s not my—!”

“I know, I know, ‘just friends’,” she chuckles. “Pardon my teasing, I had a bunch of meetings and I’ve had to act serious all day.”

“I-its okay,” Kyujin assures her, still red in the face. “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do for work?”

“I’m an… artist,” Soyeon hesitates.

“Ooh, so you make music and stuff? That’s so cool!”

“Yeah, well, that’s what I’m supposed to be doing anyways.” The older woman lets out a long sigh, letting her jet black hair fall to the side. “These days, it feels like my job is to argue with old guys in suits just so I can make the music that I want to make.”

“Ah, I see…” Kyujin nods, feeling bad for accidentally dampening the mood.

“Are there any songs we might know from you?” you ask in an attempt to change the subject.

“Sorry kid, I really don’t wanna be rude, but I’d rather not talk about work right now,” Soyeon mutters.

“Ah, that rough, huh?”

“Yup.” She takes a long sip of her drink. “C’est la vie, I suppose.”

“Was that Spanish?” Kyujin whispers to you. “I barely passed Spanish.” You gently nudge her side, giving her an “I’ll tell you later” look.

“So, what about you two?” Soyeon asks. “Still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I see. There’s still hope in your eyes.” 

“We’re just working here for the summer until next semester starts,” you explain.

“Ah, the sweet simplicity of youth.” Soyeon shuts her eyes, rocking back and forth to the song playing through the speakers. “No rules, no expectations, just pure freedom. How wonderful.”

Kyujin shoots you a confused look, but all you can do is shrug in response, not quite understanding what’s going on. “U-uh, yeah, it’s pretty nice, I guess,” you utter nervously.

Soyeon opens her eyes and sighs before walking up to the counter and taking out her wallet. “Let me give you a tip.”

“Oh, thank you, that’s very ki—”

“Run wild, run free, break the law, but most importantly, have fun.” Soyeon drops a fat wad of cash into the tip jar before walking off, nearly bumping into your uncle as he returns with the pizzas. “I’ll see you around, kiddos.” Without turning around, she flashes a peace sign before disappearing around the corner.

“Who was that?” your uncle asks, confusion written all over his face.

“I have no idea, but I think I wanna be her when I grow up,” Kyujin says, eyes wide as she fans through our newly acquired stack of cash. Soyeon could’ve been a witch or an escaped convict or whatever, as long as she keeps giving you tips like these, you don’t mind having her as your first ever regular. 

“Do you think she’ll come back?” Kyujin asks as she finishes washing the dishes.

“Maybe,” you reply, wiping off the counters. “Seems like she liked the place. Almost like she… needed it, or something.” “Wow, how thoughtful of you,” she giggles, gently elbowing your side. You chuckle softly, charmed by the way her nose scrunches up whenever she laughs. If every day is just like this, cracking jokes in the pleasant atmosphere with Kyujin, then maybe the quiet days aren’t so bad after all.

[octuscle]

Chronivac Internship

Ian was thinkin’. As good as he could, anyway. “I mean, I wasn’t always this fuckin’ big,” he thought. Or at least he figured so. Couldn’t remember ever bein’ as puny as that guy over there in the workshop. Sure, Ian knew where babies came from. He knew he came outta his mom once. And she was smaller than him. So yeah, he musta been smaller too. Made sense.

He also knew how dudes sometimes groaned when he fucked ’em. ’Cause his dick was fuckin’ massive. But still smaller than him, obviously. And if he could barely get his dick in someone, he sure as hell couldn’t fit in there himself. Even Ian got that much. He wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb in the box...

“Sir? You alright, sir?” Christopher was gettin’ nervous. He’d only gotten this internship ’cause of his dad — said a real job in industry was better than some office gig in consulting. Christopher’s thing was numbers. Dude was studyin’ business math and psych or whatever. He had no fuckin’ clue what he was doin’ here. Thought he’d be doin’ some Controlling or Accounting shit. But instead, he was standin’ in this damn workshop watchin’ this fuckin’ giant try to think. Badly.

“You’re small,” Ian said. “I’m Ian.” Christopher forced a smile. “You can’t work like that,” Ian said, starin’ at the kid in his suit. With a nod, he told him to follow. There had to be some old work clothes lyin’ around from an ex-apprentice or somethin’. Stuff that didn’t fit anymore. Happened a lot at Chronivac Manufacturing Inc. You came in all scrawny. Ended up a beast. Least that’s what happened to most of the guys in production.

Chris sighed as he stood in front of what was clearly his locker now. The air reeked of sweat. And even though Ian couldn’t have squeezed half his chest into that shirt, it looked like a fuckin’ tent on Chris. Gonna be a hell of a six weeks.

“So I was like: ‘Throw another 45 pounds on.’ And the dude at the gym was like: ‘You serious?’” Ian was lovin’ it. After a week, Chris was finally askin’ about the important shit. Lifting heavy, pickin’ the right protein shakes, how often to change your jockstrap. The first days had been a drag. The kid kept askin’ what Ian’s job was, what machines did what, what he was supposed to do here. Fuck if Ian knew.

He showed up, shot the shit with the boys, hit the company gym during breaks… Now and then he had to “report” to one of the suit guys. And “reporting” usually meant Ian strippin’ in some exec’s office, flexin’ his muscles… and stickin’ his dick into some hole. Happened two, three times a day.

Chris had to report yesterday too. Ian could swear they’d been gettin’ along a lot better since. Sure, Chris was still a skinny little thing. But kinda cute, in a nerdy way. Maybe Ian’d have to report to him one day.

Chris needed Ian’s help. Ian was clearly the brains between the two. Chris had gotten this email from his uni — long as fuck, full of big-ass words. All he got was, he had to write some kind of report. Internship report or somethin’. What the fuck did he know about writin’ reports?

Ian didn’t know shit either. Chris had “reported” again to a suit two days ago. Since then, no more shirts for him at work. Ian said it was the rule. Said everyone had shit like that. He himself wasn’t allowed to wash his shirt. Which made sense. After the next “report,” the damn thing would just be dirty again anyway. Usually, the suit finished on Ian’s shirt when they were done. Why? No clue. Probably another one of those weird-ass company rules.

Ian asked Chris if he even needed to write that internship report for his uni. Maybe he should just join Chronivac full time. Most interns did. “Nah,” said Chris. His old man had a construction company. He didn’t really wanna work there, not at first. Used to have other plans — nerd stuff, probably. Couldn’t remember. But now? He was gonna join the firm as a foreman. Rebar crew. Pretty badass, actually. Ian figured he’d miss the little guy. He asked if Chris wanted one last “report.” Chris grinned and popped open his fly as they headed toward the showers.

Christopher’s dad and the CFO of Chronivac Manufacturing Inc. were college buddies. The internship was a win-win. CMI always needed test subjects. And Chris’s dad needed a son who’d man up and take over the business. Chris wouldn’t be “reportin’” to him, obviously. But there were plenty of guys at the firm who wouldn’t mind a little report from Chris now and then.

Inspiration for the pics from @rowdy317

[writesvani]

say you remember | 02

idol!minyoongi x writer!reader

SUMMARY: You don’t expect much when your eyes meet his across the café-bar—just a fleeting glance, a moment that should mean nothing. But then there’s another look. And another. Before you know it, you’re tangled up in something that isn’t love, isn’t commitment—just an escape wrapped in late-night encounters and whispered goodbyes.

It’s fine. Until it isn’t.

When feelings start creeping in, you both decide to walk away before things get too complicated. It should have ended there. But fate has other plans. When your friend starts dating Jungkook—his best friend, his bandmate—you find yourself face to face with Yoongi once again.

The past lingers between you, heavy and unresolved. The question is—was it ever really over?

strangers-to-fwb-to-strangers-to-lovers

TRIGGER WARNINGS: jealousy, unresolved past relationships, awkward social interactions, emotional tension, flirtation, suppressed feelings, anxiety, unspoken love, betrayal, unrequited feelings, uncomfortable confrontation, smoking, drinking

comment here for to Say You Remember taglist;

SERIES M. LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter (pending...)

wc: 7k // date: 15th of April 2025

CHAPTER TWO — Drowning in the Silence Between Us; happy reading my gummies...

AN: hii guys. im so excited for this chapter, i LOVE it. it's so funny. like, i'm over here cackling like a mad person. it's honestly kinda self projecting but oh well, i'm embracing it. who needs boundaries when you're writing, right?

also, just to clear things up, y/n's book dear me is in no way connected with my jungkook fic dear me (imagine the drama if it was). it's just that i couldn’t think of a name for her book, so i just borrowed the name from one of my own fics. i promise i'm not secretly inserting my own universe into this. but yeah, dear me in this fic is y/n's book and it's all original with her own characters. okay, enjoy the chaos.

also, goal for this chapter is 250 notes. i am not lowering it this time. i fed you well with this one, 7k words after all, so if you want a new meal, y'all will have to work for it. get those notes in!

"Remind me again why we still don't know his name?" Chul asks, flatly, as he sets down three steaming mugs with the precision of a tired barista.

"Because it's still new," Aecha says, wrapping her hands around her cup. "And I want it to stay good before I jinx it by saying too much. You know how it goes—tell people, suddenly the whole thing collapses like a cheap tent."

You narrow your eyes, flicking ash off your cigarette with a pointed look. "People? Are we people to you now? Damn. And here I thought we made it past that stage."

Aecha just shrugs, a mischievous smile playing at the corner of her lips.

"It’s not just that, though," you go on, leaning forward. "It’s like you're actively enjoying this whole mystery-man act. Like you want us to suffer trying to figure out who he is."

"Maybe I do," she says, taking another sip. "You two make great detectives when you're desperate."

Chul groans, flopping onto the couch. "Great. So now we’re just a part of your little game."

"You’ve always been a part of my little game," she says with a wink.

"You see how little she thinks of us?" you say, shooting Chul a look of betrayal.

Chul nods with theatrical disappointment, letting out a long, dramatic sigh as he leans back in his chair. "Our own goddamn roommate. Best friend, even. And we’re apparently not worthy of a name."

"Ugh, it’s not like that," Aecha groans, setting her mug down with a soft clink. "It’s just… complicated, okay? You’ll understand when you meet him."

You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah? If we ever get to meet him. At this rate, you’ll be married with two kids before we even know his star sign."

"It would be nice to know who we’re meeting at least," Chul adds, more gently now. "Y’know, in case he’s a serial killer or a tax evader or something."

Aecha snorts. "He’s not a serial killer. Or a tax evader."

"That’s exactly what someone dating a serial killer would say," you deadpan, taking a slow drag of your cigarette.

"Oh, oh—wait. I have a theory," you say, tapping your fingers against the edge of the small wooden table. It’s sticky. "Ugh. Chul, seriously? Did you skip cleaning duty again?"

"Creative minds don't clean," Chul mumbles, unbothered.

You roll your eyes. "Anyway. Theory time. What if he's, like, a dealer? Or—wait—a vampire baby? Be honest, Aecha. Is your man an immortal bloodsucker with a side hustle in illegal substances? Because if so, I support you, I just need to emotionally prepare."

Aecha snorts into her coffee. "He is not a dealer. Or a vampire. God, what even is a vampire baby?"

"You know… baby-faced. Pale. Broody. Hangs out in corners. Likes antique furniture." You gesture vaguely, like you're describing a wine.

"Still no," Aecha says, but her smile slips just a little. "But I will say... he’s not exactly someone I can just go around telling people I’m dating."

You and Chul exchange glances.

"Jesus, who is he then?" Chul says, leaning forward with his chin on his hand. "C’mon, babe. All this secrecy is exhausting. You’re wearing us down like some kind of a psychological warfare expert."

Aecha just shrugs again, lips curving into that maddening, knowing smile. "Good things come to those who wait.”

"Aaand, c’mon, guys," Aecha sighs, blowing on her coffee before taking a small sip. "It’s not like I’m keeping you waiting forever. For fuck’s sake, you’ll be meeting him—and his closest friends—tonight."

Chul’s eyes narrow, a slow, wicked grin forming. Then, in a low, ominous whisper, he leans in toward you. "Imagine they’re a group of human traffickers... and Aecha’s just their charming recruiter."

You snort. "Okay, that’s a little too specific, Chul."

"I’m just saying," he continues, eyes wide with mock horror, "if I end up stuffed in a trunk or smuggled across borders, I want it on record that she brought me to this dinner."

"No, but seriously?" you add, more dramatic than necessary. "I’m telling my mother where I’m going. If I disappear, she will avenge me."

"God, you’re both insane," Aecha mutters, laughing into her cup.

"Insane but prepared," Chul says. "That’s how survivors think.”

The fact that Aecha won’t even tell you her boyfriend’s name is… mildly weird. Actually, scratch that—it’s very weird. She’s never been the secretive type. If anything, she’s the kind of person who gives you the full name, zodiac sign, and three red flags of any guy she’s crushing on—whether it's someone she matched with for five minutes or actually dated for five weeks.

So the silence now? The mystery? It’s not just out of character—it’s loud.

Whoever this guy is, he must matter. Like, really matter. Either that, or something about him makes things complicated. And that? That makes you uneasy.

The idea of Aecha dating an idol has crossed your mind more than once. And honestly, that would be a solid reason to keep things secret. It makes sense. It fits.

But you try not to go there. Because you know. You know how messy it gets when people get tangled up in that world—the kind of dynamic that drains you, strips your privacy, and leaves you more alone than you were to begin with. The pressure, the lies, the heartbreak that's practically guaranteed.

So you don’t think about it. Or at least you try not to. It's easier to joke about vampire boyfriends or underground crime syndicates than to face a possibility that actually makes sense. A possibility that could genuinely hurt her.

Especially with her job—working in the digital marketing team at SM Entertainment—she’s in it. Right there, in the orbit of fame and its gravitational mess. And the odds of her meeting someone who lives in that spotlight? High. Too high.

And that’s what makes it worse.

"Aight, I gotta bounce. My shift starts in 45 minutes and I actually wanna keep this job," Chul groans, tossing back the last sip of lukewarm coffee like it’s tequila.

He gets up, drags himself to the sink, and starts washing his cup with the enthusiasm of a man being held at gunpoint.

"Wow," you say, raising an eyebrow. "Look who finally discovered the kitchen sink."

"I’m only doing this so you don’t go full FBI on me about it later," he mutters.

"That’s called growth, baby."

"Okay, don’t forget dinner!" Aecha calls out as he wrestles with his shoelaces like they personally offended him. "8PM sharp. LaRoy’s. If you're late, I’m telling them you died."

"Relax," he grunts, halfway into his hoodie. "I’ll be there. But just so we’re clear—if this turns out to be some cult initiation dinner, I’m eating first, then running."

"That’s fair," you nod. "Die with a full stomach. Iconic."

"Also, if I get kidnapped, I’m haunting you both. And I’m not gonna be a chill ghost. I’ll whisper embarrassing shit during your Zoom calls."

"Joke’s on you, I already embarrass myself daily," you shrug. "You’d be background noise."

"Love the support, really. Bye, losers."

And with that, he’s gone—probably already mentally composing his resignation letter.

When Chul leaves, it’s just you and Aecha again.

She’s immediately back on her phone, nails tapping out soft clicks against the screen—the kind of ASMR sound that weirdly soothes your brain. She’s smiling. Small, but there. The kind of smile reserved for someone. Mystery Man.

You don’t poke at her this time. Instead, you open your laptop, skimming through the last chapter you wrote, wincing at some of your word choices like they personally betrayed you.

"What are you doing today?" Aecha asks without looking up, but you can tell she’s peeled her eyes away from the screen just enough to look at you.

You sigh. "Writing. Or dying. Depends how dramatic I feel in an hour. I have to finish at least one chapter today or else both my editor and publisher are going to show up at my funeral just to make sure I’m really dead."

"Damn," she laughs, "at least you're being emotionally tortured by something you love."

"Yeah, yeah," you mutter. "I do love it. I just hate the part where I have to prove I'm not a lazy roach every three days. But don’t worry, I’ll be there for dinner. There’s no way I’m missing the grand reveal of Mr. No-Name."

"Good," Aecha says, biting back a grin. "I’ll be with him today. He’s got the day off—those are basically unicorn sightings. I’ll get ready at his place."

You gape. "Wait, so I’m stuck getting ready with Chul? Girl, you know he’s gonna stand in the doorway and trash all my outfit options like he’s a one-man 'Project Runway' judge panel."

"Oh absolutely," Aecha says, nodding. "You should prepare a backup outfit he picks. Just for the chaos."

"He’d probably put me in Crocs and a poncho just to see me suffer."

"And you’d still serve."

You glance up from your laptop. "I would, wouldn’t I?”

"Of course you would," Aecha grins, all smug and mysterious.

And then? Silence. The kind where you’re both in your little bubbles—her giggling at her phone like it’s whispering sweet nothings, and you glaring at your laptop like it just slapped your mom.

You’re trying to write. You really are. But this one scene is being stubborn. No matter how many times you rewrite it, it still reads like garbage written by a sleep-deprived raccoon with WiFi.

Your eye twitches.

Then—RING RING.

"Shit, he’s here?!" Aecha yelps, launching off the couch like she just sat on a ghost. She’s grabbing her purse, her wallet, a random sock, possibly someone’s toothbrush—you’re not even sure anymore.

"Wait, where is here?" you ask, blinking through the chaos.

"Here-here! Like, downstairs-here! Picking-me-up-here!" she hisses, as she smacks on lipstick with the grace of someone who's clearly done this in moving vehicles before.

"Damn, thank god you’re chill about it," you say, watching the storm unfold.

"Shut up," she breathes, checking herself in the mirror like she’s about to accept an Oscar.

She turns to you, one shoe on, purse hanging half open, still looking criminally good. "Okay, I’m leaving. See you tonight, babe!"

"Byeeeeee," you sing, and wait exactly 2.4 seconds after the door shuts before sprinting to the window like you’re in a Netflix thriller.

Full. Detective. Mode.

If she won’t tell you who this guy is, you’re gonna Nancy Drew your way into the answer.

You peek through the blinds—subtle, of course. Very stealth. But all you see is a car.

A very nice car.

A sexy, blacked-out, borderline Batman-looking Mercedes G 63.

You whistle under your breath. “Sir, what do you do for a living? And can I do it too?”

The windows are tinted darker than your search history. There’s no way to see inside. Just Aecha getting in, flipping her hair like this is her life now and the rest of you peasants can stay pressed.

The car glides away like it’s floating on money.

You stand there, blinking, brain already spiraling. Rich? Idol? CEO? Cult leader with good branding?

You sigh and flop back down on the couch.

“Good for her,” you mumble. “Eat the rich. Or at least… ride in their cars and moisturize with their money.”

You spend the rest of your day in the most unproductive, soul-crushing spiral imaginable. The kind of spiral where you stare at your laptop for so long, the blinking cursor starts to feel like it’s mocking you. Blink. Blink. You suck. Blink.

You write half a sentence. Delete it. Write a new one. Delete that too. Open Instagram. Hate everyone. Go back to the doc. Stare at the same three words for twenty minutes.

Your brain is soup. Not even good soup. Like watery instant ramen you forgot to flavor.

At one point, you dramatically flop face-down onto the couch and heavily consider committing one of two crimes:

One: Emailing your editor a resignation letter that just says "goodbye forever."

Two: Getting blackout drunk and letting the creative spirits possess you.

Option two is dangerously tempting. Tequila does make you poetic. But… you’re going to a dinner tonight. With Aecha’s mystery man and his friends. The man who drives a car that probably costs more than your organs combined.

You want to be sober. Observant. Ready to judge.

Because listen—if the man owns a Mercedes G 63, you know he’s dropping at least a couple hundred on wine tonight. You refuse to let his overpriced bottle taste like grape vinegar just because you had a solo pity party before dinner.

So you wait. Like a sad wife staring out the window for her husband at war. Except the war is Chul’s corporate shift and the husband is your emotional stability.

“Where the hell is he…” you mutter, tapping your pen against your notebook.

You have no idea what you’re wearing tonight. You have no mental energy to figure it out. You need Chul. You need his critiques, his sighs of disappointment, his dramatic gasp when you suggest wearing sneakers.

God help you if he comes home late. Or worse—if he says he’s too tired to help.

You might genuinely cry.

When the door finally creaks open, you let out a sigh of dramatic relief, like a damsel rescued from a burning building.

“I’m baaack!” Chul calls, dragging out the vowels. You hear the familiar thud of shoes being kicked off and keys clattering into the bowl by the door before he saunters into the living room like he owns the place—which, okay, partially, he does.

He takes one look at you, curled up on the couch like a cryptid, laptop half-slid down your lap, face twisted in literary despair.

“You writing?” he asks, already suspicious.

“Trying to,” you mumble, eyes still glued to the cursed blinking cursor.

He squints at you. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Not at all.”

He flops down beside you with a grunt, grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it like it personally owes him money.

“Is it like… ‘I can’t write because I’m empty inside’ trying? Or ‘I can’t write because I accidentally stalked Aecha’s mystery man via car model and now my brain is fried’ trying?”

You blink at him.

“Both.”

“Knew it. You’re a menace.”

You groan, sinking deeper into the couch. “He drives a G 63, Chul. What kind of a man does that? What kind of bank account does that?”

Chul gasps. “A dangerous one. Probably moisturizes with La Mer and screams at assistants named Greg.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, processing the sheer luxury of the situation.

“…We have to look hot tonight.” you mutter.

Chul tosses the pillow aside like it’s a grenade. “I’ll get the steamer.”

The next two hours turn into a full-blown getting ready montage, complete with outfit changes, near-death experiences with the eyelash curler, and Chul nearly setting the apartment on fire trying to steam his shirt.

By the time you’re done, you look like a Pinterest board brought to life. Your makeup is peak clean girl aesthetic—dewy skin, fluffy brows, and just the right amount of highlighter to make it look like you're always basking in golden hour. Your hair is curled to soft, effortless perfection (even though it took 45 minutes and one minor burn), and your white, off-shoulder dress hugs your body like it was custom-made for night.

Chul, on the other hand, looks like he walked straight out of a K-drama. He’s wearing these dangerously good khaki dress pants that somehow make his legs look ten feet long, and a white button-up that he very intentionally left two buttons undone. It’s giving “CEO with a tragic past”, and honestly? If he wasn’t so aggressively gay, you'd have jumped him in the hallway by now.

“Do I look hot?” he asks, spinning slowly.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Tragic,” he sighs, spritzing himself with cologne like he’s about to go on a date with destiny.

The ride to the restaurant is weirdly silent. You and Chul keep exchanging glances like you’re in a horror movie where the monster is definitely hiding in plain sight. Both of you are too nervous to say anything out loud, like the car itself might snitch to Aecha.

When you finally step inside LaRoy’s, the first thing that hits you is how insanely gorgeous the place is. It’s giving Michelin star meets royalty on vacation. Golden chandeliers, velvet chairs, waiters with actual white gloves. You’re about to comment on it when—

“Wait... where is everyone?” Chul whispers.

And yeah. That’s when it hits you. The place is completely empty. Not a single other customer in sight. Just you, Chul, and an unsettling level of ambiance.

Chul and you exchange the we’re-definitely-about-to-die look.

Then, a pristine-looking hostess materializes out of nowhere like she was programmed to show up at maximum tension.

“Chul and Y/N?”

You both answer in unison, way too synchronized for comfort:

“Yes.”

“Right this way.”

You follow her through the overly quiet restaurant like you’re walking toward your own funeral. You glance at Chul, who is now casually patting down his hair and silently mouthing, ‘We’re so screwed’.

And then—you see her.

Aecha. Sitting at a massive round table like she owns the damn place. She’s already mid-laugh when she spots you two, and her smile somehow manages to get bigger. Like she's been waiting for this exact moment of dramatic entrance.

You don’t know if you should wave or run. Probably both.

And then you see the hand.

That hand—casually draped over Aecha’s shoulder, a silent claim.

You already know where this is going, but it doesn’t stop the twist in your stomach when you finally see who’s sitting next to her.

Jeon Jungkook.

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you freeze. You don’t even care about the fact that he’s ridiculously good-looking, or how the room feels like it’s just a bit too bright. No. What hits you like a freight train is that if he’s here...

Yoongi is, too.

Fuck.

You don’t even need to look around the table to know. The feeling crawls up your spine like a warning signal, one that you’ve tried to ignore for years, but here it is, loud and unavoidable. The tightness in your chest. The pulse of nausea that makes you want to choke on your own breath.

You can’t look at Jungkook. You can’t.

Because if you do, the truth slaps you right across the face, and it’s one you’ve been running from. Jungkook is just a mess of questions you don’t care to have answered. But Yoongi? Yoongi’s the reason your heart beats too fast, why you’re still tangled in memories you should have let go of.

And then you see him.

Jesus.

The way his eyes land on you is like it’s been years since you last saw each other—and honestly, that's the truth. Two years. Two years passed. The ache that pulls at your ribs, the rawness that floods you, is something you thought had faded into oblivion. You thought you were over it.

But it’s never that easy, is it?

Chul notices immediately, the shift in your expression, the way your posture changes, rigid as though you’ve been frozen by some invisible force. His hand rests on your arm gently, a silent question. But what can you say? What can you explain without laying it all bare in front of people who have no idea about your history with him?

And you know it’s not just the fact that Yoongi is here—it’s that feeling. That damn ache that never really goes away. The past flooding back to suffocate you in this room full of people who have no clue what’s going on in your head.

You can’t breathe.

You’re not ready for this. You weren’t ready to see him again. Not like this. Not with Chul looking at you like he’s wondering if you’re okay.

But Yoongi? Yoongi’s eyes stay locked on yours. No words. No movement. Just that look. The one that says everything, even though it says nothing at all.

It’s like he’s still inside you. Like nothing has changed. You’re right back there, a thousand moments too many.

And it hits you—the final realization that this dinner isn’t just awkward. It’s a damn reminder of all the unfinished business you wish you could bury.

You’ve never felt so out of control.

“Oh my God, hi guys,” Aecha stands up with that familiar sparkle in her eye, wrapping you in a hug that feels tighter than usual. You hug her back, but your hands are clammy, your heart heavy in your chest. The warmth in her smile is real—but you can’t match it right now. Not with everything pressing down on you.

You force a breath as your gaze flickers over the table. You skip him. You skip Yoongi. On purpose.

Your hand finds the hem of your dress, discreetly wiping off the sweat as you steel yourself to be polite. Presentable. Normal.

Jungkook stands to greet you, that signature sweetness etched into every corner of his face. “Hey, I’m Jungkook,” he says, extending his hand. He doesn’t know. You see it immediately. There’s no recognition of your history—only curiosity, maybe a spark of interest, but nothing more.

You shake his hand, offering a small smile. “Nice to meet you.” Chul introduces himself too, and Jungkook lights up, immediately vibing with him, which helps, a little. The rest of the guys are friendly, laid-back. They smile, say their names, nod politely. It should feel normal.

But then.

He stands.

And everything slows.

“Min Yoongi,” he says evenly, his tone smooth and familiar in the worst way. He extends his hand, and for a moment you freeze. You think about ignoring it. About pretending. But that would draw too much attention—especially with Aecha watching so closely.

So you take it.

Your name slips from your mouth like it doesn’t belong to you. Like it’s a line from a script you’ve forgotten how to feel.

His skin is warm. You wish it wasn’t.

It lasts no more than a second. But when you sit down, your whole body feels altered.

Chul’s next, his handshake with Yoongi stiffer, his eyes avoiding yours. You don’t need to ask to know—he’s silently panicking. He knows everything. And you’re both trying to act like nothing happened, like Yoongi and you didn’t ruin each other once and then vanish from each other's worlds.

Namjoon watches. Quietly. Sharp eyes missing nothing.

You wonder if Yoongi gave him the full truth. Or just enough to keep him quiet.

Either way—this dinner is going to suck.

You settle into your chairs, side by side like you're bracing for impact. On your right sits Kim Taehyung, draped in luxury like it's a second skin, sipping water like it's champagne. On Chul’s left, Yoongi is already sprawled in his chair, legs stretched out like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Honestly? Mood.

You flick your eyes at Chul. He looks like he’s debating whether to throw up or chug the complimentary sparkling water. No in-between.

“Sooo,” Chul finally speaks, voice artificially light. “Give us the story of how you two met. Like okay, you’re dating him,” he points a thumb at Jungkook, “but you work for SM, not HYBE.”

Aecha beams, clearly ready for this part. “It was during a promotional event the guys were at. I was there handling digital strategy for EXO, and Jungkook was invited as a guest and—”

“She was holding an iPad like it was a weapon,” Jungkook cuts in with a laugh, eyes crinkling. “I was just trying to ask where the restrooms were, and she looked at me like I was trying to hack the mainframe.”

“I did,” Aecha says dramatically. “He walked up all shy like, ‘Excuse me—’ and I was like, ‘Do not distract me, I’m in the middle of an algorithmic miracle.’”

“Which turned out to be a TikTok schedule,” Jungkook deadpans.

“Hey. That TikTok trended for three days. I saved Baekhyun’s brand.”

They’re laughing. Everyone at the table joins in. Except you.

And Yoongi.

Taehyung leans a little closer, eyes twinkling. “So what about you two?” he asks innocently, gesturing between you and Chul.

“We’re not together,” you and Chul say in perfect sync, too quickly, like soldiers trained for battle.

“Oh,” Taehyung blinks. “I mean—okay.”

“Yeah,” Chul coughs, “I’m very gay and she’s very… emotionally unavailable.”

“Thanks for that,” you mutter, shooting him a glare.

“What? You are.”

“Okay but you once cried because the guy you liked didn’t like The 1975.”

“Because he had no taste,” Chul hisses back.

Namjoon snorts into his glass. Yoongi remains silent. You can feel him, though—his presence heavier than anything on the menu. He hasn’t looked at you once. Not since the handshake. But you know he’s listening. You know.

Aecha smiles brightly. “Isn’t this nice? Everyone vibing already!”

You glance at her, then at Yoongi’s shoulder half a meter away from yours. You're practically inhaling the same air and pretending he’s a stranger.

Yeah.

Nice.

Totally vibing.

“So,” Aecha starts, swirling her wine like she didn’t just drop a social grenade, “What’s everyone getting? The truffle risotto is apparently divine.”

You reach for the menu like it might shield you from the tension building beside you. Yoongi still hasn’t spoken. Still hasn’t looked at you. It’s like sitting next to a ghost you used to let touch you.

Chul nudges your knee under the table. You don’t look at him, but you know he’s silently asking if you’re okay. You’re not. But you nod anyway.

“I’ll probably get the steak,” Jungkook says. “Haven’t eaten properly all day.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Taehyung mutters. “You only drink iced americanos and chew gum like it’s a food group.”

“I’m a busy man.”

“You’re chronically late.”

“Still busy.”

Yoongi finally speaks. “Get the steak rare,” he mutters without looking up, “They overcook everything past medium.”

His voice. It slashes through the air like a knife dipped in nostalgia and regret. You freeze for half a second. Just half. But Chul notices.

“Ohhh, steak boy speaks,” Taehyung says dramatically.

Yoongi doesn’t respond. Just drinks his water.

“So, Yoongi,” Aecha smiles, “still working on that solo album?”

He nods once. “Yeah.”

“How’s it going?�� she asks sweetly.

“Like a root canal. But with synths.”

The table laughs. You don’t. You remember what he sounds like at 3am talking about chord progressions and bridges like they’re living things. You remember that look in his eyes when he finished a song and asked you to listen first. You remember a version of him that smiled at you across a messy bed, not across a dinner table full of other people.

You sip your wine. You need something stronger.

Namjoon clears his throat. “So, Y/N,” he says, forcing a new topic, “Aecha said you’re a writer?”

You blink. “Uh, yeah. I write romance.”

“Like… smut?”

Taehyung leans in, curious. Too curious.

Chul coughs loudly. “Not just smut.”

“I mean… a little smut,” you admit, shrugging, because what else are you gonna do? Lie?

“That’s dope,” Jungkook grins, nodding. “That takes guts.”

Yoongi still doesn’t say anything.

“I read one of her books once,” Chul announces, like he’s proud. “Couldn’t look her in the eye for a week.”

“Because you read the scene,” you mutter.

“Oh, you know I read the scene.”

“Wait,” Taehyung interrupts, eyes wide. “Do you base your characters on real people?”

You open your mouth to answer, but before anything leaves your lips, Yoongi suddenly stands.

“I’m gonna smoke,” he mutters, already walking away before anyone can respond.

Silence follows in his wake. Chul clears his throat.

“I’d say he’s always like that but… he’s not.” Jimin sighs into his wine.

You stab at your salad like it insulted your lineage.

And Aecha, bless her clueless soul, just smiles and says, “Maybe I will get that risotto.”

When Yoongi comes back, the conversation is already flowing. The wine’s been poured (maybe a little too generously), the bread basket is on its second refill, and you’re three laughs deep into a story with Jin and Taehyung.

You didn’t dare follow him outside. Nope. Not a chance. You weren’t about to chase a ghost into the night like it’s some 2014 Tumblr breakup playlist.

So you stayed, committed to the bit, committed to pretending your past isn’t three chairs away and brooding in black. Well he was smoking outside. But you get the point.

And now? You’re vibing.

“Wait, you’re telling me you were the one who wrote Dear Me?” Taehyung says, eyes wide like you just told him you invented bread.

You nod, sipping your wine like it’s a mic drop.

“That would be me.”

“NO.” His jaw is dropped. “No no no. That book ruined my entire week. I didn't leave my room. I didn't eat.”

Jin leans forward dramatically. “I read that one. I didn’t come out of my room for three days after that. Why is it so fucking sad?”

You grin. “It’s called talent. Look it up.”

Jin places a hand over his heart like you stabbed him. “Do you thrive on making your readers cry?”

“I mean…” You shrug. “A little. It’s character development. For you, not the characters.”

“Twisted,” Taehyung mumbles. “You need therapy.”

“And yet here you are, emotionally wrecked and asking for more.”

“You’re dangerous,” Jin points at you. “You’re like one of those hot witches in fantasy novels who curse people with heartbreak and then look hot doing it.”

You raise your glass. “Cheers.”

That’s when you feel it—him.

Yoongi slides back into his chair, and even though you don’t look at him, you know. You know from the slight shift in the table. The way the energy dips by ten degrees. The way Chul subtly straightens up like he might have to go full bodyguard in two seconds.

“So,” Namjoon says, like he’s stepping between a lit fuse and a barrel of gunpowder, “Yoongi, did you smoke the entire pack or just half?”

“Depends,” Yoongi replies flatly. “Did the conversation get better while I was gone?”

“Oh,” Jin grins, “way better. She wrote Dear Me.”

Yoongi stills. You don’t look at him. But you hear it in the pause. The inhale. The weight of a book title that he knows isn’t fiction.

“That book,” Jin continues, oblivious, “is basically emotional waterboarding.”

Yoongi takes a slow sip of his drink. “Sounds familiar.”

Your hand tightens around your glass. So we’re doing this. We’re being subtle.

“It’s fiction,” you say brightly. “Totally made up. Not a single shred of truth in it.”

Yoongi finally glances at you, eyes sharp. “Right. Fiction.”

Taehyung, bless his heart, frowns. “Wait. Is this about that scene with the voicemail? ‘Cause that—”

Chul loudly coughs and drops his fork.

“Anyway,” he says, “Jungkook, how’s your dog?”

Jungkook blinks. “Uhh… he’s good?”

“Great. Cool. Let’s talk more about that.”

The table dissolves into messy conversation again, everyone just a little too loud, a little too animated. You finally risk a glance at Yoongi. He’s looking at you, of course.

And beneath the casual disinterest, his eyes say it loud and clear:

You really thought I wouldn’t recognize myself in your pages?

You take another sip of wine and look away.

You were the one who told me to write what I know.

“Sooo,” Taehyung sings, one eyebrow cocked and eyes glittering as they dart to you. His voice alone is dangerous—smooth and teasing, the kind that could talk you into trouble without breaking a sweat. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You pause mid-sip, arching a brow. “Umm, I’m pretty sure Chul already mentioned my emotional unavailability.”

Across the table, Chul snorts. “That’s an understatement.”

“Maybe,” Taehyung leans in a little, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm, “we can work on that one.”

You blink. “What, my issues?”

“No,” he grins, wolfish and playful. “Your availability.”

Hoseok doesn’t look up from cutting his steak, but his fork slows. “Taehyung.”

“What?” Taehyung says innocently, eyes still trained on you. “We’re just talking. I’m curious. I like to connect with people.”

“Yeah, well maybe let her breathe before you start undressing her with your eyes,” Jimin mutters, sipping his wine.

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “let him. I put effort into this dress.”

“Exactly,” Taehyung points at you. “You wore it for a reason, don’t lie.”

You lean back, smirking. “I wore it for the free wine, actually.”

Yoongi mutters under his breath, “Still desperate for the buzz, huh?”

You don’t even look at him. “Still pretending like you’re too good for anything fun, huh?”

There’s a pause. A weird pause.

And then Jungkook narrows his eyes between the two of you. “Wait. Hold on. You two know each other?”

Namjoon’s knife slips and scrapes against his plate with a loud screech. Chul straight up drops his fork.

You blink slowly, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “Define know.”

“I knew it,” Taehyung leans forward, eyes wide with delight.

“No, no, no, it’s not like that,” Chul jumps in, hands raised like he’s waving off a scandal. “They… uh, they were in a workshop together.”

You shoot him a look. A “really?” kind of look.

Namjoon nods way too fast. “Yeah. Yeah! Like two years ago. They had a, uh… poetry workshop?”

“Poetry?” Jin asks, clearly unconvinced. “Yoongi?”

Yoongi just stares blankly at the table like he’s counting down the seconds till he can leave.

“Yep,” Namjoon barrels forward. “Modern poetry. Tuesdays and Thursdays, 8 a.m. Real intense syllabus.”

“Exactly,” Chul laughs awkwardly. “Like, Emily Dickinson, Rupi Kaur… very deep.”

“I dropped out after three weeks,” Yoongi says flatly.

“Oh,” Jungkook says, squinting at him, then at you. “And you stayed in?”

You nod, cheeks warm. “Loved every second of it.”

Taehyung’s trying not to laugh. “Okay, sure. What was your favorite poem?”

You deadpan, “The one about heartbreak and regret.”

Yoongi mutters under his breath, “Original.”

You snap back, “At least I read something.”

Chul loudly clears his throat. “So, um, wine! Should we order another bottle?”

Namjoon nearly slams his glass down. “Yes. Definitely. Someone flag a waiter.”

Taehyung hums, still eyeing you like he’s crafting a sonnet in his head. “Tell you what—if we survive this night, I’m taking you out. No emotional unavailability allowed.”

You raise a brow. “And what if I ghost you after?”

He smirks. “Then I’ll write a sad poem and hope it gets published. Sound familiar?”

Jimin jumps in, glancing at Chul. “So what is going on with you two, huh?”

“We’re roommates,” Chul replies, deadpan.

“Roommates who get ready together for dinner like it’s prom night?” Yoongi mutters, not even looking up from his glass.

“Dude. I already said—I’m into men. I like penises. Hope this helps.”

The entire table erupts.

Taehyung nearly falls out of his chair laughing. Jin bangs the table. Namjoon mutters, “I needed that level of honesty today.”

Jungkook wheezes, “I’m framing that quote.”

Meanwhile, you're crying from laughter and embarrassment, hiding your face in your hands. “God, Chul, you’re so dramatic.”

“I’m not dramatic, I’m just tired of being confused for your boyfriend when I’m actively fantasizing about Park Seojoon,” Chul fires back.

Jimin, without even looking up from his plate, goes, “Honestly, mood.”

Jin wipes a tear from his eye. “Okay, fair. Penises. Got it.”

Taehyung raises his glass toward Chul. “To penises.”

Everyone clinks their glasses—except you, still dying inside.

“So,” Namjoon says, pointing his chopsticks at you like they’re a lie detector, “are you working on something new?”

You freeze mid-sip of your wine. “Uhh… kinda yeah.”

“Okay, so that’s a yes, but it’s going terribly,” Jin interprets, nodding sagely.

You sigh, dramatically collapsing back in your chair. “It’s like… my brain is a hamster wheel. Except the hamster died. And now the wheel is just creaking ominously in the wind.”

Taehyung gasps. “That’s so dark. I love it. Can I be the dead hamster?”

“Please,” you deadpan, “be my guest.”

Namjoon chuckles. “So it’s writer’s block?”

“Big time. Like, I’ve stared at a blank document for so long, I think it’s starting to stare back.”

Chul chimes in, “I found her today whispering ‘just one sentence’ to her laptop like it owed her money.”

“It does owe me money,” you say, poking at your food. “And dignity.”

Aecha grins. “Have you tried turning it off and crying?”

Yoongi mutters, “That’s my approach to life, honestly.”

“Oh my god, same,” you say, raising your glass toward him.

Taehyung, ever the opportunist, leans in with a flirty glint in his eye. “Maybe you just need some fresh inspiration.”

You raise a brow. “Are you volunteering?”

“I mean…” he shrugs, smirking. “I do look good in tragic love stories.”

“Tragic is right,” Yoongi mumbles under his breath.

Namjoon laughs. “Okay, okay—can we please get a live reading if she ever finishes it?”

You scoff. “Only if you promise not to cry.”

“I make no such promises,” Namjoon says, holding up his hands. “According to Tae and Jin, you write pain too well.”

Taehyung leans in again, this time resting his chin on his hand, eyes twinkling. “I’m serious. Write something hopeful. Like a tortured writer meets a charming stranger in a too-fancy restaurant. Sparks fly. Banter ensues. Maybe a little—” he pauses, eyes flickering to your lips, “—tension.”

You chuckle, but you feel the heat creep up your neck. “What are you trying to do, cast yourself as the love interest?”

Jin jumps in, laughing. “Please, the man’s been auditioning since the appetizers.”

“Can you blame me?” Taehyung says dramatically. “She’s hot, she’s funny, and she writes angst that emotionally ruins people. I’m practically in love already.”

Yoongi’s fork clinks a little too hard against his plate.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, sensing the shift. “You okay, hyung?”

Yoongi shrugs, not looking up. “Just didn’t realize we were casting for a romcom tonight.”

“You wanna audition too?” Jin grins. “Could be a love triangle.”

“I don’t do love triangles,” Yoongi mutters, swirling his drink. “Too messy.”

Chul snorts. “Says the guy who practically invented emotional mess but ‘make it music’.”

You glance at him, curious, but Yoongi doesn’t take the bait. Instead, his eyes flicker up and lock with yours for a split second—just long enough for your breath to catch.

Taehyung doesn’t miss it, and he grins wider, leaning closer to you. “Well, if it were a love triangle, I’d fight dirty.”

“Oh my god,” Chul groans. “This is officially a Wattpad fic now.”

“Shut up,” you say, biting your lip to hold back a smile.

Taehyung winks. “I’ll be waiting for my cameo in chapter five.”

Aecha leans forward, swirling her wine lazily. “Yoongi, didn’t you say you’ve been dealing with a block too?”

Yoongi gives a slow nod, jaw ticking slightly. “Yeah. It’s been rough. But, you know… it comes with the territory. It’s part of the process, unfortunately.”

You glance at him, eyebrows raising slightly as he continues.

“I’m not really in a rush, though. The next album isn’t coming out until next year anyway. D-Day’s still pretty fresh. Still got some breathing room.”

Aecha perks up instantly. “Oh my God, D-Day! We were obsessed. The three of us actually had a whole listening party when it dropped. Like, wine, snacks, full breakdowns of lyrics... tears.”

“Mostly Chul’s tears,” you chime in, smirking.

“I stand by them,” Chul says dramatically. “'Amygdala' had me pacing the hallway like a divorced man in a drama.”

Yoongi chuckles, soft and genuine. “Happy to hear D-Day landed.”

“And by ‘landed,’ he means it sucker-punched us in the gut and left us on the floor,” you mutter.

“Good,” Yoongi says, a tiny smirk playing at his lips. “That’s the goal.”

For a second, his eyes flick to yours. And something lingers there—quiet, unspoken, and just slightly bruised.

You don’t look away. Not yet.

“We actually went to the concert too,” Aecha says, casually lifting her wine glass.

Jungkook gasps, clutching his chest like she just betrayed him. “You didn’t tell me about this? You attended my hyung’s concert without me?”

“You didn’t even know me back then, Kook,” Aecha laughs, nudging his shoulder. “It was, like, peak fangirl era.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You were there?” he asks, looking at all three of you—but his gaze lands and lingers on you.

Your stomach flips. “Yeah, we were,” you say, carefully meeting his eyes. “It was… incredible.”

His expression softens, just a little. “Huh. Didn’t expect that.”

“We cried,” Chul announces dramatically, raising a hand. “Like, real tears. Especially her.” He jerks his thumb toward you.

You shoot him a look. “Chul, please.”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, grinning. “Some of us may or may not have said ‘he’s a genius’ in the middle of the second chorus.”

Yoongi’s lips twitch, that almost-smile threatening to show itself again. “Good to know I had such a poetic impact.”

You smile faintly, and something about the way he looks at you—like he's trying to read a secret you never meant to share—makes your throat tighten just a little.

Yoongi takes a slow sip of his drink, eyes still on you, like he’s trying to decide if he should say something or let the silence speak instead. He goes with the second option—until Taehyung interrupts.

“So, Y/N,” Taehyung leans in, smirking, “did you fall in love with him before or after People Pt.2?”

You snort. “Definitely after. Before that, he was still hiding behind metaphors.”

Yoongi’s mouth quirks. “You think I hide behind metaphors?”

You glance at him, heartbeat hitching just slightly. “You live behind metaphors.”

A beat of silence passes. His eyes don’t leave yours. “And yet you still showed up.”

You want to roll your eyes, but it’s too sincere to dismiss. “Yeah, well… good lyrics deserve to be heard. Doesn’t mean I know the man behind them.”

Yoongi leans back in his chair, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Maybe you did.”

taglist: @park-littlecrane @gyozajoon @knjs95s @jajabro @peacenpigeons @supertopsecretleebit @glossyfanfic @mar-lo-pap @kittyyyminnn @jennierubyjem @ot72025 @yohoosoju @diame93 @ryryvna @taekritimin123 @baechugff @enfppuff @amarawayne @134340-kr @mikrokookiex @futuristicenemychaos @shesscorpio7 @kam9404 @teaaaaaan @blubird592 @rpwprpwprpwprw @ktownshizzle @tea4sykes @jennierubyjem @butterfly-lover @jellihueni @xtracy-xd7 @annyeongbitch7 @rkivved-girl @mygtangerine @busanbby-jk @jennierubyjem @kiki-zb @marissariveraaaa

[avieloves]

(Requested by @sammygidd<33)

Pairings: Josh x Reader

Warnings: Suggestive material, very light smut, hickeys

Notes: Shorter post since it’s my first ask! Also omg sorry it took so long, deleted it twice by accident🤧🤧

(No use of Y/N, NOT PROOFREAD!!!)

“Josh?”

Your voice echoed against the ceramic tiles of the bathroom, carrying out into the hall where Josh was occupied a few doors down.

“..uh, yeah? Kinda busy, babe, what’s up?”

His own called back, the sound of shuffling and footsteps audible even from where you were.

“Need your help with this real quick.”

With a soft sigh, he abandoned what he’d been doing and made his way to you.

Your hands contorted cruelly behind your back, shoulders stinging with an effort to get your zipper up, one that was wielding all of zero results.

“Alright, yeah, I’m here.”

His head poked around the corner, and then his torso, and for a moment he was stunned to silence. You had that odd talent, he found, something nearly impossible for most others; you could get him to shut his mouth.

You stood, hands falling to your sides as you decidedly gave up. His eyes locked immediately on the elegant slit that severed your dress from your thigh downwards.

“Woah, you didnt tell me this party was that fancy. Where’d you get this from?”

His hands, ignoring the entire reason you’d called him in here, travelled past your zipper and splayed over your middle.

“Jess picked it up for me last weekend. Wanted all the dresses to match for her birthday..”

The warmth of his lips pressing into your neck momentarily distracted you from your original objective.

“Can you get the zipper, please?”

Obedient and forever aiming to please, his hands lingered over your sides before one tentatively gave the zipper a tug. It didn’t budge.

“..maybe it’d be easier to just take it off.”

He teased, his fingers walking up your arm as his other hand tried again at the zipper.

“Funny, but I’ve gotta head out soon.”

You scoffed, catching his wrist, though only loosely. You didn’t exactly stop his lips from latching onto the skin of your neck, either, neither did you prevent him from neglecting the task at hand in favor of running his hands down your body, one slipping past the slit of the fabric.

“I feel like you could spare a couple minutes.”

His fingers grazed the area between your legs, urging a breathy laugh from your lips. Taking some of your skin between his teeth, he sucked a hickey into the area.

“..You know I wanna, but..”

The way he spoke was so sweetly persuasive, honey dripping from his tongue every time he needed to convince you of something. You’d almost managed a protest when he spun you and captured your lips in a kiss, hand still stroking softly between your thighs.

“..Josh-”

He’d connected your lips again before you were able to say much more. A knee slipped between your legs, parting them further as his hand left your head to hike the dress up a little. He pawed at your thighs, soft sounds spilling into your mouth when your hands found his face, cupping his jaw on either side as you guided the kiss. His thigh pressed further up against you, a strange twisting beginning in your gut.

Heavy panting filled the room momentarily, goosebumps raised along your arms. Josh’s available hand found your zipper, about to pull it down when he was reminded of the original objective, of the time constraint, and he came to a conclusion. Albeit, not one he was in agreement with, but one he understood.

You both pulled apart, slightly flushed, and a silent understanding flashed in your eyes. Josh helped you straighten yourself up, a sudden honk of your ride outside alerting you both you were out of time.

Checking your appearance in the mirror, you winced at the sight of the hickey he’d left at the base of your neck.

“..oh, shit.”

You murmured, knowing it was cutting it far too close to try and find some way to cover it now. Josh’s hands found your zipper again, managing to get it to finally give. Maybe he’d just been playing it up earlier. He placed a kiss on the underside of your jaw and mumbled softly as guided you to the door.

“Eh.. let ‘em see it.”

[solshii]

notes to follow up from my last post<333

After YQY’s transformation into an alicorn, he was taught how to use his magic and flight by mostly his shizun, Qiong Ding peers and fellow head disciples.

LQG was the pegasus who helped him with his flight skills the most, though SQH was better at helping him grasp the basics of flight

Something about the basics already being second nature to LQG so he finds it difficult to convey the concept, while SQH is normally a weak flier who often gets winglocked (like Fluttershy) so he knows many ways to make the basics make sense .iykwim

I actually chose that weak flier who gets winglocked trait for SQH because I felt like it would make the Moshang Maigu Ridge scene cooler + it fits the flighty persona he has I guess ahah

Zui Xian head disciple is also a pegasus but was barred from teaching YQY because they weren’t gonna “teach the future sect leader to fly like a drunk”

YQY does give that ribbon to SJ as his first gift 🙂‍↕️ And if SJ noticed that it’s the same shade as his own magic then he didn’t say anything

Honestly I can’t figure out how to draw unicorn magic in a way that I like so for now it’ll just be represented via sparkles

Fun design detail ponies usually have one colour for their magic but YQY has two because I love that guy

Yes Bingqiu do tend to hook their horns together whenever they nuzzle<33 It’s like their pony equivalent of hand holding and/or hugging lol

More of an ‘on the whim idea w/o a solid reason’ I had while I was designing YQY, but the star shaped mark on his chest is more like a scar than his natural coat pattern. That’s why in the little ‘flashback’ Yue Qi doesn’t have it

The potential reason that I bullshitted at the time was because he was turned into an alicorn earlier than he should’ve been as his shizun’s attempt to stabilise his qi in the Caves or some kinda reason to that degree 💀💀💀 on top of the whole soul-bonding thing with Xuan Su too

Yk how in Twilight’s alicornification a weird blob thingamabob came out of her chest

Yeah idk bro was really going through it

Sorry YQY

It would be pretty sick cutie mark symbolism though cause I did imagine YQY getting his cutie mark in the Lingxi Caves and if you read my last note dump then you’d have read I had plans of using broken chains in its design

I clearly hate this man but it’s just a tentative idea rn

Behind SJ’s cracked horn (TW: Abuse (read: Qiu Jianluo)) I imagine receiving abuse as a foal often resulted in strong magic surges from him (kinda like qi deviations but for unicorn magic) and out of fear QJL would inflict pain to his horn or use some kind of blocker to stop and permanently damage his magic

I entertained the idea of his horn being fully broken off in the first place but Wu Yanzi probably saw a use in his unicorn magic, so he could’ve restored his horn as best he can using backwater cultivation and magic methods lol

Bingge does snap off his horn on top of his limbs in PIDW tho

So yeah while he’s still able to use his magic he can’t control it with the same proficiency as he used to

I think the horn guards he wears, atop of hiding the scars/cracks, are probably made with engraved arrays that help to stabilise his unicorn magic

And the horn guards are probably like a status and wealth symbol too in the same way nail guards are, so it does feel a bit gaudy for SQQ to walk around with it all of the time as if he’s flaunting it

[milksnake-tea]

━━ star-shaped .

War was never pretty. Death comes for both enemy and ally, and even as a healer, you cannot save everyone. Wearied by the war that seems to drag on for years, with no victory in sight, you join Jiaoqiu at the campfire for a rare moment of peace.

jiaoqiu x gn!reader

contains: based on leaks abt jiaoqiu's character stories !! but honestly its kinda implied in the quest but idk. has death, war, depictions of injuries and diseases, things are rough, can be read as platonic or romantic !!

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i love this man and his potential because goddamn war stories??? in my hsr??? sign me UP. also this was inspired by The Things They Carried by Tim Burton that i was forced to read in highschool. i loved the soldier death scene in that book so YEAH

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven @camellia-rabbit , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace

The man you killed had two eyes; one was closed, and the other a star-shaped hole.

You wake when the sky is still dark and the sun bathes the other side of the planet. Harsh winds beat unrelentlessly at the tent’s folds, and hail pelts at the sturdy fabric.

Some of your comrades, fellow healers, sleep soundly as they can on the battlefield, while others work tirelessly in the makeshift hospital next tent over, keeping an eye on injured and diseased soldiers’ conditions.

Fire crackles outside. The sound is sharp, yet barely audible over the snow storm.

With a sigh, you pull your sheets off of you and as quietly as possible, make your way outside the tent. You aren’t going to get much sleep anyway - you might as well do something useful.

The man you killed resurfaces in your mind. He had two eyes - one closed, the other a star-shaped hole.

You pull your fur-lined coat closer around you as you step out into the camp. Snow crunches under your boots and you have to hold your hood in place to shield yourself from the hail.

To say that this planet is freezing would be an understatement. Here, the cold chilled you from your bones to your skin, seeping into your veins and leaving icicles in its wake. Frostbite was an everyday occurrence here; you’ve had to amputate more toes and fingers than ever in your life.

A silhouette sits before the fire, their back turned to you. As you get closer, you make out tall, Foxian ears and the same winter coat you’re currently wearing.

“Jiao?” you wrinkle your nose as you near, suddenly slammed with the strong scent of chili. Your comrade acknowledges you with a brief flick of the ears, but nothing more.

You don’t blame him. This war has been a harsh one, with less soldiers returning to camp every time they’re sent out. Unknown territory and harsh weather conditions made the battles long and exhausting, and healers could only do so much.

Not to mention, time passed so quickly yet so slowly here. You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been stationed, but it feels like several lifetimes.

Everyone is tired. You can see it in the hollowed cheeks, the eyes that have grown numb to death, and the despondent numbness that has overtaken the camp. They no longer cared who won or who lost. All they wanted was to return home in one piece.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was closed, and the other was a star-shaped hole.

You sit down next to Jiaoqiu on the log. The Foxian makes no move to push you off, only shifting to the side to help make room for you. Hugging your knees to your chest, you stare blankly at the drifting embers that dance in the air.

Jiaoqiu absentmindedly stirs at his soup. It boils in a small pot just above the fire, the thin liquid a red so bright it’d be threatening… if you had the energy to be threatened.

“It’s late,” you say into the crisp silence. “You should get some sleep before the sun rises. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

Even as the words leave your mouth, you know it’s pointless. In war, sleep is something you have to force your body into. You have to lie down in the tents, look up at the fabric sky and listen to the hustle and bustle outside as soldiers are carried in and out, and close your eyes to the screams as yet another frostbitten knight has their arm cut off. You have to put yourself first, even for that small second, and allow yourself rest while your comrades fight on the front lines.

Sleep is a luxury that no one can afford. It is an escape. It is shameful.

And from the looks of Jiaoqiu’s darkened eye bags and mindless stirring, it’s a sin he won’t be partaking in tonight.

And neither will you.

Your gaze falls to the small bag of spices lying next to Jiaoqiu on the long. You can see peppercorns, cloves, fennel, cinnamon, and… star anise.

You look away.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was closed.

“How are you faring?” Jiaoqiu finally speaks. He doesn’t look at you and keeps his eyes on the flame.

Another gust of wind runs through you.

“As well as anyone else is, I suppose.”

Jiaoqiu swirls the soup with one hand. A bubble bursts and sprays the snow in little sizzling red freckles.

“How about you?” you ask.

The snow has already covered the soup’s spill by the time Jiaoqiu replies.

“As well as one can be,” he mutters. His hands, gloved with thick leather, clench once before relaxing.

A hollow chuckle leaves you. You sigh, kicking your legs out onto the snow and leaning back on the log. You look to the sky, to the cryptically beautiful cosmos. Blues, purples, and reds merge together like watercolor clouds above you, and small, white stars bejewel them.

Stars… Your gaze becomes lidded.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was a star-shaped hole.

“Do you think that man had a family?”

If Jiaoqiu was surprised at all by your question, he didn’t show it.

“Does it matter?” He takes a small taste of his soup. Despite it practically glowing in red, he doesn’t seem satisfied. “He was the enemy, need I remind you.”

You close your eyes briefly. “But I’m a healer.”

“You are.” Jiaoqiu opens his pouch and dumps in the rest of his chili rations - what for, you don’t know nor do you care to know. “You are also a soldier of the Xianzhou Yaoqing military. War always ends up in casualties, you know this. So did the soldier.”

There’s a bitterness in his tone that makes you wonder if he was talking to himself as well as to you. Your eyes soften.

“You did what you could, Jiao,” you offer. You want to put your hand on his shoulder, but you aren’t sure if that is appropriate, given the circumstances. “What happens outside the camp is beyond our control.”

Jiaoqiu sighs. His hand tightens around the ladle.

“Then what’s the point?” he whispers. His brows furrow, and his eyes open - a gem of amber reflecting years worth of grief and hopelessness. “What purpose do I have as a healer if I cannot stop my patients from hurtling towards their deaths?”

He turns to you, searching your face for any sort of answer that could satisfy him, that could reassure him that there was meaning, there was a point, that all of those bandages and surgeries and amputations weren’t for naught.

But you cannot answer him, for it is a question that no healer knows the answer to.

“You gave them another chance at life,” you say softly, unconvincingly. “That’s all that matters.”

“Even if that life is destined to end regardless of what I do?”

Dead eyes meet dull ones.

“What happens outside the camp is beyond our control,” you repeat blankly.

The man you killed had two eyes.

Jiaoqiu searches your gaze once more, before ultimately giving up. The amber of his eyes close, and he returns to the cauldron.

In a feeble attempt to console him, you go against your earlier thoughts and rest a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. But with the roughness of your gloves and the cold limiting the dexterity of your hands, it isn’t much - but it’s enough.

Jiaoqiu glances at your hand, then back at the cauldron.

“Do you feel bad?”

You blink, a bit caught off guard by the question, but you settle down soon enough.

“No,” you say after a brief pause. “He would’ve killed us if I hadn’t killed him.”

You lean forward, resting your head in your palm as you watch the flames swallow up what little tinder the others managed to collect.

“I’m just glad to be alive.” You don’t sound like you believe it.

Jiaoqiu’s ear flicks. You hear him stand up and scoop some of the soup up into his ladle, and dash out his tongue to taste it. His tail swishes, and his eyes widen momentarily, amber flashing like lightning.

A smile, a weary, tired, but grateful smile, slips onto his lips.

He turns to you, vitality returned, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Try this,” he says, holding the ladle out towards you. 

You eye it warily. The liquid drips down the sides of the ladle and drops down onto the snow below, sizzling the second red touches white. You didn’t think it was possible for the soup to get even redder, but Jiaoqiu somehow did it.

“I won’t die if I eat it, right?” you try to joke. Jiaoqiu huffs, his breath steaming in the air.

“You doubt my cooking capabilities?”

You shake your head. “No, but whatever you have in there doesn’t exactly look… edible.”

And yet you’re already leaning forward to taste his concoction. Jiaoqiu carefully holds the ladle still as you take a sip.

Instantly your senses are flooded with pure, unyielding heat. Fire blazes on your tongue, searing your throat and bringing tears to your eyes. Your stomach burns, and for the first time since you’ve come to this planet, you stop shivering.

It’s painful.

It’s exhilarating.

“It’s delicious,” you praise despite the coughs that wreck your being. “Although… did you have to add so much chili?”

Jiaoqiu hums out a laugh. “But that’s what makes it special.”

You don’t bother denying it. Instead, you laugh alongside him, eyes crinkling with joy instead of pain after years of constant war.

You’ll have to return to the war eventually. The sun is already beginning to rise, and soon the soldiers will be awakened to go out into battle once more. You’ll have to take over for your comrades who had spent the night in the hospital.

But you don’t have to do it just yet.

For now, you just want to enjoy this moment, this second of normalcy and peace in the battlefield.

The man you killed had two eyes.

One was closed.

The other was a star-shaped hole.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[481mclarg]

Male reader who's been inlove with lando since they were in diapers (their moms are bffs) and lando who's the only one to not know about readers love, its years before lando (year before oscar gets into mclaren) who has an inkling about how reader feels about him, he brushes it off thinking its nothing but does take advantage with the info that reader would basically do stuff for him if lando asked (max f was the one who pointed out reader does this hoping that theyd put him out of his misery and date already) (lando doesn't do it very often, uses it to get reader to change plans for flights so they can go where lando wants to go or guilt reader into coming to his races when he should really be focusing on college things and the like *also note that before that year he use to do it too even if he didn't know it*), it goes on like that with lando taking advantage of readers love and kindness till reader 3/4 of the 2023 season in, reader ever so slightly separates himself from lando giving him excuses like a lot of projects to catch up on or saying that his phone had died since he was craming for an important test and by the end of the season reader and lando aren't speaking this follows till next season (not counting the times their familys force them together unknowingly, lando during these outings is really just talking to himself with reader just nodding and hmming at certain points) where lando invites reader along with both their familys to watch him race, reader cant really say no since classes have barely started for him and this is where oscar comes in reader who is very much still trying to get over lando meets oscar and is just blushing up a storm with how subtle oscars flirting is, lando who turns to talk to reader see's this and his face suddenly looks like it bit into a lemon with this weird feeling in his gut when he see them exchange numbers this basically leads to lando thinking he's jealous of reader getting along with his teammate so well (really its the other way around) so lando makes it his mission to get to know his teammate better (since they've only spent a year as teammates) which leads to him falling inlove with oscar (even with his unresolved feels for reader) which he realizes 2 races after the halfway point of the season, he also doesn't realize that oscar and reader have been really close till it comes out their in a relationship, which makes lando hella conflicted because he thinks their hot together and because he was hopeing to get with oscar himself (hopeing to get with reader too but he's ignoring those feelings) anyway in the transition from the 2024 season to the 2025 season lando comes to the realization that he and male reader haven't spoken since that last family function he attended, which leads to him realizing readers been inlove with him and vice-versa, which leads to them making up but reader is happy with oscar so he won't cheat on him with lando or ask oscar if he wants to add a third its not till oscar asks reader if he's still inlove with lando and reader looks at him shocked and then like a kicked puppy when he says yes which reader goes on to ramble that he wouldn't cheat on oscar in which in that moment oscar kisses him to shut him up which ends up with lando be tentatively added to the relationship in 2025.

–🍑

✶ I do. Me too. Me three.

"Do you think it's possible to love two people at the same time?"

                                                                                "Yeah"

★ Lando Norris × Childhood Friend Male Reader || OP81 × Male Reader × LN4

☆ idiots in love (but the idiot is Lando) (reader is pretty idiot too) (Oscar is chill). || WC: 3114.

Warning: idk how to label this. it's like friends to not speaking to lovers (oscar ver.) to lando being a confused wet cat to lovers³ & there's a tweet too. (my god this is long asf I didn't notice it was that long)

« K » Sorry for the delay. Surgeries r more painful than I expected. But I make this long kinda compensation? (In fact, it's just bc I love landoscar × reader).

🍴 you, oscar & lando fr.

I hope yall enjoy it :)

          Your family has always been friends with the Norris. Your mother has been friends with Cisca since they were young. You grew up with Lando, best friends since birth.

          Always by his side during karting, spending your weekends watching him or the Formula 1 races, dreaming about seeing him on the grid. Always together for everything.

          No one knew you like he did, though there was one secret you were never able to tell him. You were in love with him.

          Even if it's something obvious from almost everyone around you two, Lando never seemed to notice.

          You didn't know how to feel. Some days, you wanted him to notice, wanting to be around him as much time as possible. Other days, you just wanted to disappear, to forget him and your love.

          At some point, you were so obvious, trying to make him understand. He started to think it was strange how close you were with him. Like, there was something different. You have bad news for him? A secret? You get yourself in trouble? Want to ask for a huge favor? Do you want something now that he's an F1 driver?

          Anyways, he was happy because you accepted anything he said. He wants something? You could get it for him and even pay for that. You were so in love, trying with all your strength to make him realize how you are feeling.

          Your grades get lower and lower, even missing some classes because Lando asked you to travel with him. You tried to focus on the happiness and enjoy the vacations, even if you have to ask your classmates for the homework or some notes.

          The only one who was witness of all this was Max Fewtrell. Friend with you two since karting, Max was the closest person who actually knows about your feelings and talks about it.

          He encouraged you to confess, and you were pretty sure he talked with Lando too, but those talks never came to anything.

          In fact, Max wasn't as subtle as you were thinking. He literally said to Lando how obvious your crush on him was, asking why you two aren't dating already. Lando ignored it, following what had already become a routine for you.

          A routine that you repeat until August. You were tired, every flight, every favor, every event or race you attend with him. August was the first time you actually denied one of his plans.

          "Sorry, I need to stay at home and finish a really important project." It felt... liberating. Refusing to keep running behind him and spending the weekend on yourself.

          You finally had some time for yourself again. To think about yourself, your life, your studies... About whatever you wanted.

          That weekend opened your eyes to everything you were missing by chasing someone who was living his life just fine without you around.

          What started as excuses about not being able to go out together because of homework or projects began to turn into lies about having to turn off your phone in class or being in exams so you couldn't answer his calls or texts.

          You used to share all your schedules with him... Maybe he never cared about you after all?

          You two only see each other at those dinners organized by your mothers, who had no idea what was going on between you.

          Your families continued watching the two boys who spent hours talking to each other, without paying attention to the fact that only Lando filled the silence, while you buried your face in your plate, wishing it was time to leave or being able to excuse yourself with being sleepy if were at your house, so you could disappear into your room.

          Lando, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice the changes either. Or rather, he insisted that you maintain the dynamic that you had sustained for so many years.

          That's why he decided to invite you and your family to the Australian GP.

          He knew that you love all the Australian GP vibes. The people, the circuit, the story. Australia is truly special to you.

          Maybe, starting this weekend, it will be a little more so...

          In 2023, you never had the time to sit and have a good time at a Grand Prix, but this year, you decided to enjoy a short vacation with your family. So you found out about everything McLaren was preparing for that GP since they had an Australian on the team.

          Oscar Piastri. You obviously knew about him, but you hadn't had the opportunity to meet him in person or talk to him.

          Until that weekend, Oscar was simply Lando's teammate. Someone your friend mentioned occasionally when talking, someone you only saw in Instagram photos and on telly. Someone you thought was much more serious and reserved. But that weekend, any previous notions of Oscar were shattered by the Australian himself.

          He seemed a little nervous when he came to introduce himself to you and your family, but when you two had a few minutes alone after qualifying, he was much sweeter, more talkative, and... flirty?

          You didn't know if it was your imagination, but on Sunday morning, the situation was similar, with Oscar talking to you and even suggesting having dinner together after the race or something.

          You can't say no to that. Oscar was so nice with you, so sweet, so... what you needed.

          Then, you two exchange numbers.

"You can go back to your hotel and think about the plan. Call me when you make a decision. "

          You could decide if you didn't want to go? Wasn't dinner a plan you couldn't refuse?

          The families were happy, thinking the three of you would be friends— Lando didn't seem to like the fact that you were talking to his teammate.

          He hated it, hated seeing you two together. Why did you talk so much? Why does it bother him so much?

          Is he... jealous?

          Lando didn't understand; he didn't know why he felt that way. Why did it suddenly bother him that you were talking to his teammate? Why would he be jealous?

          Things at McLaren had been complicated lately; Lando's mind was a mess. He decided to blame it all on those problems, settling for the belief that he was jealous that you got along so well with his teammate.

          Yeah, that must be it. Not because his teammate seems more like your friend than he is. Nah.

          That led Lando to decide he's going to be the closest with Oscar. In his mind, all this plan to become Oscar's best friend before you make sense— Well, he didn't want to think about it much before putting it into practice.

          The whole situation was weird for the three of you.

          Lando was no longer asking you to travel with him. He even suggested you stay home to focus on your studies. Instead, he was trying to spend all that time with Oscar, under the guise of bonding so the teamwork would be better (since McLaren decided on this strange philosophy of not benefit one over the other, only to end up messing both strategies).

          Meanwhile, Oscar and you keep in touch through text, sometimes mentioning how strange Lando's behavior seemed to you (with whom, by the way, you had almost lost contact).

          You weren't sure how to feel; none of the three of you were. You had talked to Oscar about your feelings for Lando, but by mid-year, you didn't believe you still had those feelings for him.

          Oscar was very clear about what he wanted from the start, and he let you know, and that he would respect your timing and decisions. He didn't want to force you into anything, nor did he want to be a replacement just because you couldn't be with Lando. It wasn't fair to any of you.

          The real problem came after the Dutch Grand Prix. Lando was confused about his own feelings, having to deal not only with the hate but also with his newfound crush on Oscar and that strange feeling toward you. He cannot put a name to what he feels. Guilt? Is it still jealousy? Nostalgia? Sadness?

          God.

          Had he fallen in love with Oscar? How had that happened? He wanted to be closer to him, yes, but—not like this.

          What should he do now? Should he tell Oscar about his feelings? Hide them? Pretend he couldn't stop thinking about you too? Well, that was all he was doing, although he found himself bringing your name up in conversations with Oscar more than once, so he could ask about you, since you two hadn't been talking lately.

          Oh!

          Since when are you two THAT close?

          How did he never notice? How did it happen? When? How did he never consider the possibility of you two dating? How could he have set his sights on getting to know Oscar better and missed such an important detail as whom he was dating?

          The worst part is... he didn't feel sad.

          Or not the way he'd expect to feel after finding out his crush is dating someone else, his ex-childhood best friend. It's like, yeah, he's upset because he wants Oscar for himself, but... you two seem so good together.

          Lando has known you your whole life, and he knows there's probably no one better in the world for you than Oscar. He can't blame you for falling for him if he himself recognizes all his positive traits and wants to embrace those that aren't so good—even though they seem nonexistent.

          It got to the point where even he wasn't sure which of you was his crush. He felt like an idiot looking at the two of you, watching you talk to each other from afar, one moment wishing he was you so he could be with Oscar, and the other, even more confusingly, wishing he was Oscar so he could be with you.

          Since when did he feel this way about you too? He was exhausted.

           Thank God winter break arrived, leaving him a couple of months free from worrying about the team, races, and all related to work.

           It was then that he realized that, amidst his internal drama, he'd stopped talking to you both. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a conversation with you, probably since the last dinner your mothers organized... more than half a year ago? Shit.

          He couldn't stop thinking about how such a long-standing friendship as yours had been ruined, how he'd lost his half-best friend/half-crush because he was an idiot. How you had forgotten all those innocent childhood promises of being lifelong friends, just like your mothers.

          He needed to fix that. He needed to have his best friend back in his life, no matter who you were dating. Before you were Oscar's boyfriend, you were his friend, he wants to get that back.

Lando: are u coming to the nxt dinner at our house? You: I don't know yet Lando: Can u pls come? I want to talk

          Him asking you to please come seemed strange to you. What did he want to talk about?

          You were nervous, not only Lando but your parents expected you to go, since you'd missed so many of these functions. You were busier with classes or hanging out with Oscar than spending time with your family.

          You arrived, not knowing what to expect, texting Oscar to try to distract yourself from the nervousness while you waited for Lando to stop staring at you from across the table and finally come over and talk to you.

          He was nervous too, it was so obvious.

          In the end, after a couple texts with Max Fewtrell telling him to sort things out once and for all, he managed to gather the courage and approach you.

"I'm sorry." "Why?" "I— Uhm... I don't know." "Huh." "No. Wait. I mean—"

          After all, everything turned out better than you expected. Lando was able to explain what he thought about your friendship and apologize for how things had turned out over the past few years, acknowledging his mistakes and wanting to know if you would let him fix things.

          It caught you off guard, no doubt, but you appreciated it. You had that nagging feeling of having left things unresolved with him, and even if you could say you'd managed to forget completely the feelings you had for him, now you felt like you were healing that wound.

          When you told Oscar about this, he was happy for you. He knew the history of your friendship, and he was more than happy that you could feel happy and truly comfortable in the McLaren garage again.

          Nothing made him happier than seeing his boyfriend & his teammate friend be friends again.

          What didn't go unnoticed by Oscar was that not only did your friendship return, but also the affection you had for Lando.

          During the conversation you had with Lando, he also finally came to understand that what he felt was love, and you hinted to him that you'd been in love with him your whole life.

          Your whole life, until Oscar came along.

          This discouraged him, and he continued to distance himself a little. You didn't find it really strange; you thought you two were just rebuilding trust, but Oscar could tell there was something else going on.

          You were happy with Oscar, and cheating on him never crossed your mind, but there was something in your heart that kept bothering you.

          From Oscar's point of view, Lando looked like a wet cat waiting for someone to come and give him some affection, while you looked at him with pity, hoping Oscar would give you permission to bring him with you.

"You still like Lando, right?" "Huh" "It's obvious you still like him" "Sorry— I still love you too— It's weird to explain—" "I like him too" "HUH"

          You tried to give him some explanation, reiterating several times between babbles that you still love him, and that you don't know what to do because you don't want to lose him, but you also don't think it's fair to have feelings for someone else, for his teammate, your best friend, and because of the history that Lando and you have and—

"You kissed me" "You were mumbling too much, I don't think even you understood what you were saying" "I just told you that I like Lando" "And I think I like him too" "But I still like you, Osc" "And I still like you too"

          A long conversation followed, where you two questioned each other about everything from how was it possible that you two were in love with the same person at the same time to why Oscar was bringing up this topic right after the Australian Grand Prix.

          Like, yeah, his home race sucked for him, but how could he move on so quickly?

          Anyway, it took you two a couple of days to figure out what to do next and understand what would happen to the relationship and what you were about to propose to Lando.

          You didn't consider it an end, and things between the two of you weren't going to change. It was more like… continue what you had started. You believed that even if you two hadn't started dating, you would have gotten to this point anyway.

          The Japanese Grand Prix was the chosen one. More because you couldn't wait any longer than out of convenience. You two couldn't stand seeing Lando keep getting discouraged and forcing himself to draw the line with you both.

          You tried to find a convenient time, although it was difficult considering how little free time they had. Next up was Bahrain, a country you weren't traveling to, so you wanted to hurry up and have the talk that same weekend.

          You also didn't think you two could endure another week without clearing things up.

          In the end, the moment presented itself at the most inopportune moment, the one you had said you would avoid so as not to add pressure during the race or qualy. Saturday morning.

          "At least it wasn't on Sunday", Oscar thought as a consolation, while he watched you panic about the direction your conversation with Lando was taking.

          The three of you were in Oscar's hotel room when Lando started talking about you as a couple after you mentioned an activity you wanted the three of you to go to.

"You should go alone. Couples usually go there." "It's okay, Lando. We can go together." "No, seriously. I… I think I should stop joining all your couples' plans, you know." "We like it when you join us, Lan." "I know, but— I don't think it's good… I— My feelings..." "Lando..." "I don't want to— Sometimes it hurts to see you together. I know there's no hope, but—"

          Oscar made him shut up the best way he knew how.

          Lando watched you in horror as Oscar pulled away from him, and before he could put enough words together to form a single apology for you or a question for Oscar, you kissed him too.

"You can join as many couples plans as you want, Lan."

          Since then, Lando never left your side, spending time cuddling and clingling you both, if you couldn't all squeeze in together wherever you went or while you were at college.

          McLaren's strange strategies and bad race results no longer affected him as much as they used to because he knew he would always have a boyfriend available to cuddle up with and cheer him up.

          Which sometimes meant double work for you, but you really enjoyed having them both with you, so you wouldn't complain. That also means double celebration, and it tends to happen very often lately, so everyone enjoys it.

          Although it can be a little tiring at times, you wouldn't change them for anything in the world.

          They also enjoyed spending time together much more, just as they enjoy spending time with you. Sometimes they're just there while you study, muttering things you've read in your notes or the texts on your assignments while you try to understand them, but they're a good support and a timer so you don't push yourself too hard.

          They make sure you take a few breaks a day to eat, drink, sleep, and kiss them a lot.

          You no longer skip classes or fall behind on projects. Finally feel at peace with yourself and your feelings, and you're happy to know that the two people you love love you back & each other too.

100 FOLLOWERS EVENT

481MCLARG | 01 . 04 . 2025 | CORREGIDO

[lovebugism]

hey honey can i request a shy!reader x grumpy!eddie , maybe they’re pumpkin picking with friends & something angsty ensues but then fluffy & after they all go eat at the diner and get spooky themed orders 🤭

thanks for requesting lovie! — eddie gets grumpy on a fall outing with the gang (shy!reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, 1.3k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie’s a big ol’ grump at Eugene’s Pumpkin Patch, but he’s being really brave about it. He follows you like a puppy, visibly unamused about the whole thing but trying hard to be a good boyfriend despite his woe.

“Ah! Look at this one!” you gasp at the sight of a pumpkin, in a sea of bright orange pumpkins. 

Swallowed whole by your sweater, you crouch in the tall grass and reach for the tiny round thing hidden in it. The runt pumpkin sits neatly in your palms. “It’s so wittle,” you singsong up at Eddie in a tiny, high-pitched voice.

He smiles despite himself, laughing even though he’s grumpy, ‘cause you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“I’m gonna get this one,” you announce affirmatively when you rise to full height again.

“You made me drive an hour out just to get the tiniest pumpkin they have?” Eddie asks, laughing still but with a subtle bite of annoyance.

You try to ignore it, though the weight of his aggravation makes you writhe. “But it’s cute…” you defend with a weak shrug. “And also, you have to get one, remember?”

You take a tentative step towards Eddie, standing chest to chest. He huffs and puts his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. His chocolate eyes flit around the expansive farm, dull and unimpressed. “They all look the same, so… I don’t think it really matters.”

“It does matter!” you insist, girlish and quiet and stubborn. “You have to pick the one you like the most— that’s the whole point!”

“You’re telling me there’s an art to pumpkin picking?” the boy teases with a crooked grin, tilting his head to the side so his curls bunch at his shoulder.

Still clutching the tiniest pumpkin either of you have ever seen, you nod. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

He scoffs again in a curt laugh. He looks around again, only to point to the one sitting by his feet.

“Alright… How about that one?”

“Eddie!”

“What?” he whines in the same pouty tone as you.

“Can you at least pretend you’re having fun?” you murmur, a bit sad you have to even ask. 

You always spiral when he gets weird, secretly terrified that it’s all your fault. He doesn’t talk, so you overthink. Your brain gets mean, and you need Eddie to make you feel better — but he can’t because he’s weird. It’s unbearable. For both of you.

“It’s cold and rainy and Steve’s pants gave me a headache on the way over and I don’t feel good, okay? I’m sorry,” Eddie rambles with a pout, looking visibly pained about all of it.

Any excitement you had left leaves you like an ebbing tide. “Okay,” you mutter with a soft nod.

“I’m gonna go smoke,” the boy announces. 

He smacks a fleeting kiss to your cheek before he goes but doesn’t bother to invite you to come with him. He doesn’t feel very deserving of your company right now, too selfish in his woe and painfully self-aware about it.

You stand in place while he walks back to the van, feeling utterly alone and unwanted.

“Where’d Eddie go?” Steve wonders when he walks up to you with Robin at his side. 

They carry two pumpkins each, struggling with each of them because they’ve somehow managed to find the biggest ones on the whole farm. You figure they made a bet about it because everything’s a competition with them.

“Um… to smoke, I think,” you answer shyly, embarrassed to have been found alone for a reason you can’t name. “He just kinda… left.”

Robin scoffs. “I think he’s on his period,” she jokes with a gritty laugh.

“Yeah. He said my pants looked stupid before we left. I knew something was up.”

The brunette girl side-eyes the boy beside her. “I think he might’ve been right about that one, Stevie.”

You make a quiet exit when they begin to bicker back and forth. You duck through the bustling pumpkin patch and try not to trip in the tall grass on your way to Eddie’s van. 

Your boots crunch over the gravel of the parking lot. You find him leaning against the trunk, blowing out smoke from his pink mouth, slouching like he’s weighed down by his own sadness. 

“You okay, Eds?” you ask to announce your arrival. 

His eyes widen when he realizes you’re there. He’d pretend to be fine if it didn’t take all the energy he had left. “No,” he answers honestly, then quickly corrects, “I mean— I am, but… I feel bad. I was acting like a dick…”

“Yeah,” you concur with a nod. “You were.”

He’s too shocked to hide it on his face. You’re never normally so confrontational. You’re usually too quiet for that, too soft. And you still are now, because you always are, but he feels like he deserves to see this sterner side of you.

“But it’s okay. I know you didn’t wanna come in the first place.”

He turns on his shoulder when you stand at his side, towering over you as he flicks the butt of his cigarette. “Yeah, but… I didn’t have to be such an asshole to you about it. I feel like I fuckin’ ruined this whole day, you know?”

“We all have our moments, Eds. It’s no big deal,” you assure with a weak shrug and a stronger smile. “We still have the whole afternoon left— you didn’t ruin anything. Doesn’t make me love you any less, either.”

Your words make him grin. Like, really grin — all wide and rosy and boyish. You make him smile like nothing’s ever hurt him. Like nothing’s ever been wrong in his life. Fuck, he’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.

“I love the shit outta you, you know that?” he mumbles but doesn’t give you a chance to answer. He tosses the cigarette to the ground and snuffs it out with his sneaker right before kissing you absolutely stupid.

He wraps his arms around your neck, smothering your face with his. No one’s ever been kissed as hard as he’s kissing you now. The realization makes you smile too wide to kiss him back.

He pulls away from you with a hearty smack. With pinker lips and chocolate eyes, he grins hopefully down at you. “So you’re not mad at me?” he wonders, gentle like a child.

“Yes,” you nod, playfully firm. “I’m very mad, actually.”

Eddie’s smile widens. He knows you’re joking and decides to lean into it. “What can I do then, huh?” he murmurs lowly to you, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How can I make it up to you?”

He wants to kiss you again. He wants to get you in the back of his van in a vacant parking lot. He wants you to tell him to make you feel good and not to stop until you’re pushing him away.

You know all of this, ‘cause you can practically read his mind, so you decide to drive him crazier. “I want you…” you start in the same low tone, bordering on sultry. 

Eddie’s already nodding. 

You smile and continue. 

“…To go pick your most favorite pumpkin in the whole patch, and then take me to Benny’s Burgers.”

Feeling slightly disappointed and utterly teased, Eddie searches the entire patch and finds the weirdest-shaped, wartiest pumpkin the earth has ever grown. He drives the gang to the diner after and sits you in his lap when all of you squeeze into one booth. 

He shares his milkshake with you and lets you have the pickle slice that comes with his burger when you ask for it (‘cause everyone knows it’s the best part). It’s the purest form of love, if he has anything to say about it.

[daisyvisions]

✦ Day 26 - Corruption

⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Pairing: Pervy! Bestfriend Sunwoo x innocent!reader

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word Count: 1.4K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), corruption kink, slight manipulation (if you squint, don't read if triggering), dry humping, unprotected sex, a very pervy and kinda possessive sunwoo, ass grabbing, pet name (sweetheart, baby), let me know if I missed anything!

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: had to change the whole theme and plot for this one since I really couldn’t think at all on how to write it out BUT I still hope you like it! Wish I had more time to write it out better but here we are. This was also a combination of 3 asks that I haven't gotten to answering so here it is 😮‍💨 Proofread once

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Network: @deoboyznet

✦ Kinktober Masterlist ✦

Sunwoo loved touching you.

The way your soft hands would hold his, how you would lean your head on his shoulder, the feeling your body pressed up against his as he embraced you, he loved it all.

He loved it a little too much actually. So much to the point he thought about wanting to touch you in other places he shouldn’t be touching.

It was wrong, he knew that. But he couldn’t help himself.

He’d been dying to get his hands on you ever since you’ve become friends. But it was hard when your were such a sweet innocent little thing. He didn’t want to scare you off if he suddenly did it.

Sunwoo had to find a way to touch you. But how?

Suddenly, he remembered that it was your birthday coming up. And by coincidence he also happen to stumble upon an ad on his phone that made him grin from ear to ear.

He was gonna finally have his way with you.

“Come out sweetheart, let me see.”

“But Sunwoo I’m shy… are you sure this is okay?”

“As long as it’s on you I’m sure it’ll look beautiful I promise” You hear his muffled reassurance from behind the bathroom door.

When your best friend he had a surprise for you on your birthday you were not expecting this kind of gift at all…

You take a look at yourself for a moment, soaking in how your soft body looks covered in this really pretty laced lingerie set. He doesn’t even hide the fact that the tent in his pants are twitching just seeing you like this.

You took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled before opening the door to reveal your barely covered body.

“Sweetheart… you look fucking gorgeous.” Sunwoo says, soaking every inch of your body as he looks at you up and down. Your cheeks start to grow warm from the way he looks at you.

“Come here, I wanna take a closer look.” He motions you with his hand. You try to shield your body with your arms as you walk towards him sitting on the edge of your bed.

Sunwoo grabs you by the wrists and pulls you to straddle his lap, one hand tracing the patterned laced on your bra as the other hand rests on your lower back.

Your breath hitches at his bulge slightly nudging your core, making you feel something strange growing at the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck just look at you… I could almost eat you up-” His hands now slowly roaming your body, trying to make you ease into his touch.

When he shifts his position for a moment, you feel his bulge nudge you again. You let out a very faint whimper by accident, eyes growing wide from embarrassment.

But all you could see was Sunwoo’s mischievous smirk, knowing exactly what you’re feeling at this moment.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” He holds your chin up to look into your eyes as his other hand starts massaging your ass.

“C’mon, you can always tell me.” He whispers.

“I feel k-kinda weird...” You whisper back.

“Where does it feel weird? Point it out to me-” He asks. You start to become shy at first, wondering if this is something your best friend should even know about. You slowly move your hand to direct his gaze at your core.

“Oh, I see. So… if I move you like this-” Sunwoo places both hands on your waist and pulls you forward, making your core rub against his bulge once again. You gasp at the feeling as it nudges your core even deeper.

“Y-yeah. I don’t know what it is.” You look at him with worried eyes.

“Sweetheart, it’s not a weird feeling at all. It should feel good… Does it feel good for you?” He continues to slowly rock your hips back and forth, making you nod your head as you bite your bottom lip.

“You wanna know something?” He asks. You tilt your head slightly curiously.

“It feels really good for me too…” He groans, pushing your hips down to make you grind on him further. You moan at the sensation it brings you, even the way Sunwoo’s strong hands hold you down.

As Sunwoo continues to help you grind yourself onto his crotch, you can’t help but stare at his plump lips. Without thinking, you impulsively peck them. Your eyes grow wide as you just realized what you’ve done.

“Sunwoo I- I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have-” your apology is cut off as he kisses you back. His lips attacking yours aggressively as he moves your hips faster.

You pull away from him for a moment, trying to catch your breath as he leans forward to kiss your chest.

“Sunwoo wait-” He doesn’t listen as he licks and sucks the top of your breasts.

“We can’t. T-this is something only boyfriends do-” Now that phrase is what gets him to stop.

“But friends can do this too sweetheart, didn’t you know?” He looks at you like it’s a well known fact.

“And it’s even better because I'm your best friend. Best friends are supposed to help each other right?” He pouts as he rubs circles on the dips of your hips.

“Y-yes…” You stutter. Still worried that what you feel for him might drive him away.

“And it looks like we both have a problem down there. I can help us both. Do you trust me?” You feel his bulge growing harder as you nod in response.

“I’ll make you feel good sweetheart, I promise. Just keep this between us okay?” He kisses you before unbuckling his pants to lower them enough to his knees.

He wastes no time pushing your hips down again on his hard bulge, the friction of his covered cock nudging your sensitive bud is even more pleasurable as the layers of clothing between you have lessened.

“Feels s-so good…” You mindlessly mumble as pleasure takes over your senses.

Sunwoo’s hands grab your ass harshly, making you whine from the slight sting but it turns you on even more. You moan his name as you feel an unfamiliar sensation growing in your abdomen.

“That’s it sweetheart, use my cock.” He groans.

Your hips roll on their own as they move faster, trying to reach that peak you’re desperately craving. He crashes his lips onto yours, tongues moving together so erotically.

You don’t even have time to process what’s going on until you suddenly hit your orgasm, making you bite his bottom lip out of impulse.

“Fuck I need to be inside you right now. Can I? Fuck- please let me fuck you-” He moans.

“But is that oka-”

“As long as we’re helping each other right?” He asks, his thumb grazing your bottom lip.

“O-okay. Just… it won’t hurt right?” You look at him with worried eyes.

“Just a little, but it will feel so good. Gonna fill you up so good sweetheart I promise-” He fumbles as he slightly lifts his hips to pull down his boxers, kicking them to the side as he pulls your panties to the side. Your mouth waters at the sight of his leaking cock, eager to know how it will feel inside in a few moments.

Sunwoo helps you lift your hips, tugging at the base of his member as he aligns himself at your entrance before slowly lowering you down.

You start to feel the head stretch out your walls, whining at the pain as he bottoms out into you. He gives you a moment to adjust before he slowly grabs your waist again to drag your hips back and forth as his cock gliding inside your tight walls.

“I-feel so full-” You whine, wrapping your arms around his neck as you try to roll your hips yourself.

“Doing so good sweetheart.” Sunwoo kisses your neck.

“Fuck- gonna ruin you for everyone else. Got that? After this I can only fuck you-” He growls in your ear, slapping your ass as he bites your earlobe. You nod in response.

He wraps his arms around your waist and thrusts himself up into you. Pounding his member so deep that you practically feel all of him.

“Gonna make you mine baby. All mine.” He groans against your lips.

All the sensations happening at the moment numb your head, feeling yourself drift away to the point you don’t even realize you’re cumming on his cock, moaning his name like a prayer.

You thank him profusely. You don’t even know why you’re thanking him but you do. He smirks at you as he caresses your cheek and leaves a kiss on your forehead,

“That’s what friends are for…”

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

No Stone Left Unturned || Hoshi x Reader

word count: 1.1k

tags: non-idol au, futuristic setting, mentions of apocalypse, major character death, profanities, somewhat non-linear narration, established relationship, not a happy ending

notes: my second entry for the angst olympics! i hope y'all like it xoxo

song rec: eternity - alex warren

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜

T+ 0 days

Soonyoung knew at his core that he was stupid.

He kept trudging through the mud. Plomp. Plomp. Plomp. Cling. Sometimes his boots rattled against the scraps of metal and organs buried beneath the wet soil but he tried to ignore them. Well, as much as one can ignore the colourful sprinkles in vanilla ice-cream. Soonyoung gave himself a metaphorical slap to the face. Don’t think of ice-cream right now. You were doing so well. Stop wanting things you can never have again.

If there was anyone else with a beating heart in this wasteland besides him, they would have told him that it's been 847 days and he was, actually, not doing well at all.

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜

T - 847 days

A kick to his stomach sent Soonyoung reeling into the trash heap. The enforcer didn’t stop. Another kick landed on his head. The night stars no one saw since 2025 swam in front of his eyes. The physical blows stopped after a while but the psychological ones didn’t.

“Look at this beggar trying to buy a paracetamol tablet on loan.” A blob of spit landed on Soonyoung’s face. “Dog, don’t try to have pride when you are not even worth half a pound of cockroach meat.”

Soonyoung waited until the cruel laughter of the enforcers melted into the humid air and the hum of the Factory was the only thing he could hear. This was the third marketplace he tried. Three times was NOT the charm. Figures pre-meteor sayings would not work anymore.

Failure clung to him like a second skin as he pushed aside the flap of a tent. Inside it a heap of tattered clothes were shaking. Soonyoung’s hand trembled as he pushed away the scraps of fabric on top to reveal a small, feverish face. He tried to measure her fever with the back of his fingers the way his mom used to. Fuck, the fever didn’t go down. She is still burning up.

“Soonyoungie, is that you?” She whispered.

Soonyoung cradled her face in his hands. He whispered back as if speaking out loud was sacrilegious, “Yeah, I went out to get some medicine.”

“Since when did the markets start opening at night?”

The sudden lump in his throat choked him for a few seconds. “It’s already noon, love. Do you want some bleached water?”

Even through the layers of matted hair and dirt, Soonyoung could feel her glare at him. “Did you waste credits buying bleach again? Stop wasting money you don’t have, Kwon Soonyoung.”

“Jihoon gave it to me. I will pay him back, I promise.”

“You better.” At this point, the lump of clothes started deflating. “I only need you. Don’t leave me alone again, okay? Don’t make me waste the days I have left waiting for you to call me ‘love’ one last time.”

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP.” A harsh tone echoed throughout the tent. “You will get better.”

“Soonyoung.”

“You will.”

“Soonyoung.”

“I will make you smile again.”

“Soonyoung.”

The tears rolling down his face also cleared a layer of scum on its way, creating a stark contrast to the rest of his grimy face. Blinking it away, he stared at her as if he was trying to burn her image to his retina. And then he bolted, ignoring her pleas for him to be reasonable, rational, and everything Soonyoung could never be.

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜

Ricky jerked up when a hand slammed into his stone-desk. Ouch, that gotta hurt. What kinda crazy per-

“Soonyoung? What are you doing here? Did you forget that the gates were moved to the east again?” Ricky chuckled, relieved to find a friend and not another cannibal begging to be thrown into the diluter to atone for his sins.

Soonyoung tried to smile but it was as grotesque as the man he felt he was on the inside. “Give me the gemstone diluter keystone. Now.”

“Woah, woah, woah, are you out of your mind, bro? That's a death wish and a half!” Ricky couldn't help start shouting. Half in disbelief and half in shock.

Yet no amount of yelling changed Soonyoung’s mind to try for the governor's grand prize. Ricky couldn't understand why he was risking his life and sanity to find some pretty stone for the marriage of one spoiled girl.

The so-called grand prize was only a mixture of four kinds of medicine. Talk about being cheap. What kind of insane man would throw himself into an alien portal for interdimensional travel just for some kinda crappy knock off drugs? The time doesn't even flow the same there!

Apparently, his friend was that madman. Shoving the consent form to Ricky’s face, Soonyoung jumped into the portal with only a battered up scuba tube in his hands and a “Don't let someone else win the prize” barked in his direction.

Fuck. How was Ricky supposed to break the news to everyone? How was he supposed to break the news to Soonyoung's infected girlfriend?

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜

T + 0 days

The homemade metal detector beeped again. After the Disaster of 2025, everyone alive had to become a mechanic. Soonyoung was the same even if he did not have the same degree of competence compared to the average man.

Ugh. I hope it's not another copper bit again. With a sigh deeper than the empty communal food bucket back in camp, Soonyoung picked up something small. A twist of his wrist threw most of the mud off and a bit of green emerged, reflecting the light of the twin suns of this planet.

A rush of emotions- hope, fear, excitement, skepticism, joy- rushed to his head and instantly he hunched over as if to protect himself from his own overwhelming emotions.

Gently wiping away the rest of the crud with his filthy hands, Soonyoung watched hungrily as a one ring-sized emerald came into view. Done. I am finally done. I am not a failure anymore.

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜

The governor's platoon of thugs didn't even let him go home first. Soonyoung had to listen to the old man hem and haw about inane things like how late he was and how his daughter had to get married with a wire tiara.

“She got married already?” Soonyoung asked numbly. Everyone in the room stared at him as if he was the freak of nature and not them. When he finally got his hand on the drugs and ran to where his tent was, he found a landfill in its place.

At last, after running around trying to find a loved one, he found Jihoon near a makeshift tent besides the factory. His friend narrated the events of the last couple of years with a straight face. As if it was a story Jihoon was not a part of. As if Jihoon didn't hold her close to his chest when she took her last breath in Soonyoung's steed.

A jar of ashes was shoved into Soonyoung's arms. “She wanted you to scatter her body under the tree. She said that you would know what she meant. Don't you dare run away from this too.”

Feeling more dead than all the half-dead people around him, Soonyoung dragged himself to the stump of the tree where they first met and broke the jar. Ashes and crushed antibiotics mingled together as one. Finally, for once, Soonyoung returned home with the medicine.

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜

angst olympics taglist: @lovetaroandtaemin @bokk-minnie @gyuhao365 @supi-wupi @rizzus @callmehoweveruwatblog @pleasetellmenow @giverosespls @seikwans @cookiearmy @mingumis @yuyuloverrr @chanranghaeys @starstrawb @catiekayy @choco-scoups @wonuilu @flickhurstyles @yayayayana @lizza2001 @bibblemiluvr @alyssa19123456 @skzbangchanniee @whoa-jo @brownbunnyb @sennasiempre @idubiluranghae @bvrin @supi-wupi @blaycke @gam3bo17 @Steamyjaehyun @g1ven-taken @Raginghellfire @mxnhoeuwu @svtmaru @jrinbb