#but its fun to think about things in-text

[nocturnebite]

Someone Like You ౨ৎ

(Its always been you) - bestfriend!enha (ot7) x fem!reader

synopsis: You’ve had enough of bad dates and bare-minimum effort. But when your best friend shows up for you in their own soft, thoughtful way… you start to wonder why you’ve never looked at them like that. Turns out, they’ve been waiting for you to. fic notes: friends to lovers || comfort & fluff || soft confessions || bad date recovery || dreamy slowburn mutual pining || emotional support kings wc: about 800ish per member (5.7k total)

ash's notes: heyy back again! this one was so fun for me to write, i'm a sucker for friends to lovers troupes.. especially when it's "they knew all along". get me a man like this PLEASE.. enjoy :3

౨ৎ Heeseung - You always know

The door clicks softly behind you as you slump inside your apartment, heels dangling from your hand, mascara slightly smudged from the stress of the night. Another date gone wrong. Another charming-on-text loser who spent more time talking about himself than asking a single question about you. At one point he even took a call at the table. You’d sat there swirling a straw in a watered-down drink, wishing you were literally anywhere else.

You drop your bag by the couch and sigh into the quiet. It hums back at you with the same kind of hollow loneliness you’ve gotten too used to.

Your fingers tap against your phone screen before you even think about it.

you: had another trash date lol sorry if im bothering u just rly bummed out

You don’t expect a reply right away. But before you can even toss your phone aside, it buzzes.

hee ౨ৎ: open the door

You blink. Then look up.

Another buzz.

hee ౨ৎ: i was already on my way. figured something was up

Heart hiccuping, you shuffle to the door, unlocking it slowly—and there he is. Hoodie half-zipped, hair tousled like he just left in a hurry, one hand clutching your favorite takeout and the other carrying a fuzzy blanket you've been trying to steal from him for weeks.

“I didn’t know if you’d eaten,” Heeseung says, stepping inside like he always belongs here. He doesn't wait for an answer, just sets everything down on the coffee table and opens his arms.

You melt.

Your face tucks into the curve of his neck like it’s muscle memory. He’s warm and steady and smells like laundry detergent and vanilla and home.

You mumble, “You really were already on your way?”

“Mmhm,” he hums against your hair. “Just had a feeling.”

You don’t even question it. He always knows.

You eat curled up on opposite ends of the couch, his long legs tangled with yours under the blanket. He doesn’t ask about the date. He doesn’t need to. He just listens while you vent, eyes soft, gaze focused on you like you’re the only thing that matters.

Eventually, you’re lying with your head in his lap while he scrolls through movies on the TV.

“Something comforting,” he murmurs, already queuing up your favorite. “The one with the sad girl who finds herself and the cottage with the vines—”

“That’s a romance,” you whisper, half-laughing.

Heeseung just smirks. “Exactly.”

As the movie plays, you watch him in the flickering light — the soft shadows against his jawline, the slight smile when a familiar line hits, the way he rests his hand gently over your arm like he wants to keep you tethered here with him.

And somewhere between your chest aching and your heart warming, it slips out.

“Why can’t the guys I date be more like you…”

Heeseung flinches.

The remote fumbles in his hand and clatters to the ground with a sharp clack.

Your eyes widen. He stiffens. “Oops—uh. Sorry.” He leans down too fast to grab it, smacking his head lightly on the table and cursing under his breath.

You blink at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine. Just—clumsy.” He clears his throat, setting the remote back carefully like it might explode again. His ears are glowing pink.

You stare at him, heart thudding.

He doesn’t look at you. Just leans back against the couch and mutters, “Want me to rewind the movie?”

You pause. “No. I’m good.”

He nods, quiet.

But the atmosphere has changed. Charged. He’s still close, still comforting, but his posture’s too stiff now, too careful, like he’s thinking too hard about breathing near you.

Later, when the movie ends and you both sit in the hush of the credits, you speak again.

“I just…” you whisper, watching the glow from the screen reflect in his eyes. “I wish I could find someone who treats me like you do. You’d be the perfect boyfriend.”

Heeseung freezes.

Then turns to you slowly, expression unreadable. His voice is low.

“Then why don’t you date me?”

You laugh, confused. “What—”

“I’m serious.”

You blink.

His eyes are locked on yours. No teasing. No smirk. Just honest, vulnerable silence.

“You’re serious?” you whisper.

He nods once. “I’ve always known it was you. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”

Your heart leaps into your throat. And then—flutters.

His fingers inch toward yours, tentative, until they’re brushing lightly, and when you don’t pull away, he laces them together.

“I didn’t think…” You breathe out. “I didn’t think you felt the same.”

“I do.” Heeseung smiles softly, then leans forward until your foreheads touch. “I have. Every time I showed up for you, every night I stayed over just to keep you company, every moment I wished you’d look at me like that…”

You do now.

And this time, when he leans in — slow, careful, trembling with hope — you meet him halfway.

౨ৎ Jay - The way you look at me

You’re already in tears by the time you leave the restaurant.

Not the dramatic, mascara-running kind. Just the quiet, aching kind — the ones that slip out even when you don’t want them to. This one stung a little more than usual. The guy didn’t just talk over you — he insulted your interests, made snide jokes about “emotional girls,” and scoffed when you said you wanted something real. It left you wondering if you were asking for too much.

You don’t text Jay.

You don’t have to.

The second your key turns in the door, the smell hits you — warm, comforting, something buttery and spiced — like childhood and safety all rolled into one.

You step inside and blink.

Jay stands in your kitchen in a dark t-shirt, sleeves pushed to his elbows, a striped apron tied lazily around his waist. He looks up like he’s been caught red-handed.

“I was gonna text and say come over,” you mumble.

“I figured you’d need something sooner,” he says simply, stirring the pan once before lowering the heat. “So I let myself in.”

Your chest tightens.

There’s a pot on the stove, steam rising lazily from it. A pan of something golden browning beside it. Plates already set. A candle burning low.

“You made—” Your voice cracks. “You made the pasta?”

“The one you said reminds you of your mom’s.” He shrugs, trying to seem casual. “You sounded tired last time we talked. Thought you’d need it tonight.”

Your throat feels too full to respond. You cross the kitchen slowly, eyes burning in that way that says thank you without the words.

He glances at you. “You okay?”

You nod.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head, stepping behind him, letting your arms wrap around his middle as you press your face into his back. He stills, surprised—but only for a moment. Then one of his hands reaches down to cover yours.

“You’re not asking for too much,” he says softly, like he’s already guessed the thing you didn’t say.

You don’t speak. You just hold on tighter.

Dinner is quiet, the way it always is when you’re feeling raw and Jay is being careful with you — soft glances, gentle hands when he passes the parmesan, a million unspoken things in every motion. Afterward, he makes tea and sets up the couch for a movie night without asking.

“You pick,” he says, stretching across the cushions to pass you the remote.

You curl under the throw blanket and sigh, not even looking at the screen.

Jay turns his head toward you. “Wanna do nothing instead?”

You nod.

So you sit. Shoulder to shoulder. Familiar and close and quiet.

After a while, he gets up and starts tidying the kitchen. And that’s when you catch yourself watching.

The way he moves—careful, confident, focused. The way he takes his time with everything. The soft hum in his throat as he dries dishes. The way he set aside the last bite of garlic bread because he knew it was your favorite.

And suddenly, something slips out.

“I wish the guys I went out on dates with were more like.. you.”

The sound of ceramic shattering on tile cuts the air in half.

You jump.

Jay freezes mid-motion, staring down at the cracked plate on the floor like it betrayed him. “Shit—sorry.” He crouches quickly to clean it, not looking at you.

You rush to help. “It’s okay, I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s—” He’s already sweeping the pieces into his hand, face turned so you can’t see it. “It’s fine.”

But his hands are trembling.

You blink. “Jay?”

He doesn’t answer.

You touch his wrist lightly. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

He finally looks at you, and it’s like the air has changed again — his expression unreadable, jaw tight, eyes searching yours for something you don’t quite understand.

You try to laugh it off, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry, that was kind of a weird thing to say.”

Jay finishes sweeping and stands slowly, leaning against the counter like he needs a second to think.

Then you say it again, more quietly. “You’d be the perfect boyfriend.”

He lets out a breath — sharp, disbelieving.

“Don’t say that,” he murmurs.

You blink. “Why not?”

���Because…” He looks at you like you’ve cracked something in him. “I’ve been trying so hard not to say it first.”

The silence that follows is thick.

You stare. “Say what?”

Jay steps toward you, then stops — unsure, unreadable.

“That I’m in love with you,” he says quietly. “That I’ve been in love with you. That every time you cry about some guy who couldn’t see how lucky he was, it kills me because I’m right here. And I’ve been here.”

Your lips part, but you can’t speak.

He runs a hand through his hair, eyes wild and warm and terrified. “I know you weren’t ready. And I never wanted to make you feel like you had to see me that way, but tonight—” His voice softens. “Tonight you looked at me like you finally saw what I’ve been trying to show you this whole time.”

Your heart thunders.

You had looked at him that way. You’d always admired him — his calm, his kindness, the fire in him that always warmed you up when you felt too cold. You just never thought…

“I didn’t think you’d want me,” you whisper.

Jay’s breath catches. “I’ve always wanted you.”

He takes another step.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to lose you. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t want more than this.”

You look at him—really look at him—and all the times he showed up for you play in your mind like flashes of sunlight.

Slowly, you take his hand. It’s still a little shaky, but when you hold on, he steadies.

You whisper, “What if I want more too?”

He doesn’t speak. He just pulls you in and kisses your forehead, gently, reverently—like he’s waited a lifetime for this moment to finally arrive.

౨ৎ Jake - Never not you

It starts with your phone vibrating on your chest, just as your eyes are starting to sting from holding back tears too long.

You don’t check the screen. You don’t want to talk to anyone. You just stare at the ceiling of your bedroom, replaying the disaster of tonight’s date — the awkward silences, the backhanded compliments, the fake polite goodbye at the end. All you wanted was someone who’d make you feel seen. Instead, you feel lonelier than before.

Another buzz.

Then another.

Then a knock at your door.

You sit up, confused, wiping your eyes.

“Delivery?” you mumble, shuffling to open it.

But it’s not food.

It’s Jake.

He’s standing there, hair a little windblown, hoodie zipped up halfway and cheeks pink from the chill. In one hand, he’s holding a small bouquet of fresh wildflowers. In the other, a bag from your favorite bakery—the one that’s only open late on Fridays.

“I was already on my way,” he says softly. “Something told me you needed me.”

Your bottom lip wobbles.

You don’t cry, but you do fold into him the second he opens his arms.

He doesn’t say anything. Just hugs you so tight it’s like he’s holding together all the parts of you that want to fall apart.

Twenty minutes later, you’re in your pajamas under a mountain of blankets on the couch. The warm scent of baked pastries fills the air. Jake’s got your feet in his lap, his thumbs gently massaging the arch like he’s trying to erase all the tension of the night.

You’re both watching one of those cheesy rom-coms he secretly loves more than you do, though he always pretends otherwise.

“Tonight sucked,” you mutter.

He doesn’t ask for details. He just leans back, still holding your feet. “He didn’t see you, did he?”

You glance at him. “How do you always know?”

Jake shrugs one shoulder. “Because if he had, you’d be smiling. You always light up when someone gets you.”

Your breath catches. You don’t respond. You just look at him.

His profile is soft in the glow of the TV. There’s a slight crease in his brow, like he’s still worried. You want to reach out and smooth it with your thumb.

Instead, you say quietly, “Why can’t guys be more like you…”

Jake stills.

His eyes don’t leave the screen, but his fingers stop moving.

You sit up a little, trying to meet his eyes. “Seriously. You’re so thoughtful. You always know what I need. You never make me feel like I’m too much or not enough—”

Jake suddenly fumbles the pastry bag in his lap and spills the last croissant right onto the floor.

“Ah..shit—sorry,” he blurts, scrambling to grab it. He drops the tongs trying to pick it up.

You blink. “You okay?”

“Fine!” he squeaks. Then clears his throat and tries to play it off. “Yeah. Just… butter fingers.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You sure?”

He nods a little too quickly. “Totally. I just… wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

You tilt your head. “Say what?”

He carefully places the rescued croissant on a napkin, still not looking at you. “That you wish guys were like me.”

Your voice softens. “Well… I do.”

The silence stretches, almost like the room’s holding its breath with you.

And then, because the ache in your chest is too much to sit with, you add, “You’d be the perfect boyfriend.”

Jake turns to you, eyes wide.

He looks like you just told him the moon said his name.

Then, very quietly, he says, “Then… why not me?”

Your heart skips.

You blink. “Wait..what..? Are you serious?”

He nods, slowly this time. The corners of his mouth twitch up—hopeful, nervous, a little amazed you haven’t laughed him off yet.

“I know we’ve been best friends forever,” he says gently, “but I’ve loved you for almost as long. I didn’t want to ruin what we had by saying anything. But it’s you. It’s never not been you.”

Your lips part. “Jake…”

“I didn’t want to be another guy who hurt you,” he whispers, voice shaking a little. “I wanted to be the one who reminded you how loved you are. I just never thought you’d actually—feel the same.”

You swallow hard.

Your chest is doing that tight fluttery thing again. Because you do. Deep down, you’ve always known it. The way you’d light up when his name appeared on your phone. The way his laugh made everything easier. The way you looked for him in every crowd.

You whisper, “I think I’ve always wanted it to be you.”

Jake beams.

Not a smirk. Not a flirty grin. A full, radiant, stunned smile like you’ve just made his entire year.

He reaches for your hand, then changes his mind and gently cups your cheek instead, brushing his thumb just under your eye.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly, breathlessly.

You nod.

And when he leans in, it’s slow and sweet and full of every unspoken thing you’ve both carried for so long. And when he pulls back just barely, lips still brushing yours, he murmurs,

“You’re my favorite everything.”

౨ৎ Sunghoon - Say something

It’s late.

The kind of late where the streets outside are quiet and your bedroom ceiling is glowing dimly with the light of passing cars. You’re curled up under a blanket in your hoodie, trying not to cry but very much failing. Again.

The guy from tonight wasn’t mean, exactly. Just… indifferent. He scrolled through his phone when you talked. Showed up twenty minutes late with no explanation. Didn’t even pretend to walk you home.

And maybe it wouldn’t sting so much if it didn’t feel like a pattern.

You don’t text anyone. You just throw your phone facedown and try to forget it.

Until, barely five minutes later, there’s a knock at your window.

You freeze.

Another knock.

You scramble out of bed and yank the curtains aside — and there he is.

Sunghoon. In his gray zip-up and a beanie pulled low over his brows, standing on your fire escape holding two steaming cups of hot chocolate and a very unimpressed expression.

You open the window with wide eyes. “What the—Hoon??”

“I figured he’d flake,” he says flatly, climbing in like this is something he does every day. “You ghosted the group chat. That’s never a good sign.”

You blink as he hands you one of the cups.

“I made it with that fancy cocoa you like,” he mumbles. “With the cinnamon.”

You stare at him.

Sunghoon doesn't meet your eyes. He just kicks off his shoes and settles onto your bed like it’s his.

“I didn’t get ghosted,” you say quietly, sitting beside him.

He nods. “But you are sad.”

You sip the cocoa. “How do you always know?”

He shrugs. “You always blink a lot when you’re trying not to cry.”

Your throat tightens.

Silence passes for a bit. Your room is dim, your fairy lights casting soft little shadows across his jawline. You watch him — the way his hands cradle the mug, the furrow in his brows even now. He’s always like this. A little standoffish. A little too observant. And yet always there the second you fall apart.

And maybe it’s the warmth in your hands, or the fact that you’re so, so tired of being disappointed — but the words come out before you can stop them.

“Why can’t guys be more like you…”

He freezes.

Like actually freezes.

No blink. No breath. Just wide, stunned deer-in-headlights stillness.

Then he promptly chokes on his hot chocolate.

You lunge to pat his back. “Hoon??”

“I’m good—” cough cough “Totally fine—” cough “Jesus—”

You bite back a laugh. “You don’t look fine.”

“I’m great.” He clears his throat aggressively and looks everywhere but at you. “Just… went down the wrong pipe.”

“Mmhmm,” you say, clearly not buying it.

He shifts on the bed, suddenly tense. “You… didn’t mean that, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He swallows, hard.

You lean back against the pillows, watching him over the rim of your cup. “Seriously. You’re thoughtful, reliable, good with your words—when you use them—”

“Okay—”

“You always show up when I need you,” you add, voice soft now. “You’d be the perfect boyfriend.”

Sunghoon just stares at you.

You don’t even realize how intense your gaze is until he finally looks away, the tips of his ears glowing red.

“You’re messing with me,” he mutters.

“No, I’m not.”

He sets down his cup slowly. His voice is quieter when he says, “Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean them.”

You sit up straighter. “But I do mean it.”

Sunghoon finally meets your eyes, and there’s something raw there now. Something just barely holding itself together.

And then, because he’s Sunghoon and horrible at vulnerability, he blurts:

“Then maybe you should date me.”

Your mouth opens. “What?”

He looks away again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

You reach for his hand before he can pull it away. “Sunghoon. Look at me.”

He hesitates—then does. And your heart cracks wide open.

“I want to say yes,” you whisper.

He blinks. “You do?”

You nod. “I didn’t think you liked me that way.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever look at me that way,” he breathes. “You’re always chasing guys who treat you like crap. Meanwhile, I’m here, dying every time you tell me about them, and all I want to do is tell you they don’t deserve you.”

“You should’ve said something.”

“I was scared.” His voice rises slightly, then softens again. “I didn’t want to ruin what we had. But tonight… when you said that…”

He pauses, then lets out a soft breath.

“I wanted to kiss you so bad I forgot how to breathe.”

Your eyes soften. You shift closer.

“Then don’t forget now.”

He stares at you.

And then he kisses you.

It’s tentative at first — almost like he doesn’t believe it’s happening — but it grows, slow and sure and full of everything he’s held back for so long.

When you pull apart, you press your forehead against his and whisper,

“You know you can come through the door next time, right?”

He grins. “Where’s the fun in that?”

౨ৎ Sunoo - If only you knew

You don’t say anything when the door swings open.

You just step inside, drop your purse on the floor, and crawl straight onto the couch face-down, muffling a scream into the cushions.

There's silence.

Then the sound of slippers shuffling quickly across hardwood.

Then:

“Oh no. Which flavor of man failed you this time?”

You peek out of the couch to see Sunoo standing over you in an oversized sweatshirt, hair in a clip, face cream still dotted on his cheeks like he was mid-self-care ritual when you texted the dreaded “can I come over”.

You groan. “The worst one.”

He gasps. “Worse than finance bro?”

“Worse than vape in the Uber guy.”

“Girl.”

“I know.”

Sunoo lets out the most offended noise you've ever heard and immediately shuffles toward the kitchen. “I’m making tea. And I’m putting on that sad cottage movie you like. You’re not allowed to argue.”

You don’t.

You just melt further into the couch and let yourself exhale.

Because somehow, Sunoo always knows exactly what to do when the world feels heavy.

By the time the kettle whistles, you’ve been tucked in with three blankets and a stuffed animal you pretend isn’t yours.

Sunoo returns with a tray of snacks, two mugs of tea, and a disgusted look on his face.

“So what did he do? Tell me everything. I’m ready to judge.”

You shake your head. “He… didn’t even try, Nuu.”

He sets the tray down and climbs onto the couch beside you. “Try what?”

“To know me. To see me. I spent half the night trying to think of things to talk about. It felt like I was trying to impress someone who couldn’t care less.”

Sunoo's eyes narrow. “Should I fight him?”

You let out a laugh — small, watery.

He leans his head on your shoulder. “You know you’re not hard to love, right?”

You stay quiet.

Sunoo reaches for your hand under the blanket and squeezes it. “Some people just don’t know what they’re holding until it’s gone.”

You glance at him, heart aching.

He’s right here. Warm and thoughtful and sharp as ever. He always has been.

And somehow, you whisper it before you can think better of it.

“I wish guys were more like you…”

You feel him tense.

He sits up, blinking, and nearly spills the tray trying to set his cup down.

You blink back. “Nuu?”

“Did you mean that?” he says quickly, voice just slightly higher than usual.

“I—yeah?”

He just stares at you, lips parted, like his brain has fully exited the building.

You sit up. “Why does that freak you out so much?”

Sunoo clears his throat, crosses his legs, and clasps his hands like he's giving a TED talk to himself. “No no I’m fine. Totally calm. Just casually losing my mind that the person I’m in love with just said that.”

You blink. “Wait. What.”

He freezes.

You gape. “You’re in love with me??”

“OH MY GOSH,” he says, loudly, throwing a pillow over his own face. “FORGET I SAID THAT—”

“Nuu!” You pull the pillow away and stare at him, heart pounding.

He groans. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out, okay?! It’s not like I planned to tell you after a garbage date like some B-list plot twist—”

“You’re in love with me?”

He falters, looks at you properly — flushed, anxious, but still so Sunoo.

“…Yeah,” he whispers. “I’ve been in love with you for a while.”

Your chest tightens.

“You… never said anything.”

He gives a tiny, shy shrug. “You were always dating someone. I didn’t want to confuse things. Or ruin us.”

“But you always—” Your voice cracks. “You always take care of me.”

He smiles sadly. “Because I want to. Because you deserve someone who actually shows up when it counts.”

You look at him — really look at him — and suddenly, all the late nights, all the surprise coffee deliveries, all the “I brought your favorite just because” texts make perfect, blinding sense.

And suddenly, this feels like the only real thing you’ve ever known.

“I think…” you whisper, “I’ve been in love with you too. I just didn’t let myself believe it.”

Sunoo blinks, stunned.

“You what?”

“I kept waiting for someone who’d treat me like you do,” you murmur, leaning in. “I just didn’t think that person could be you.”

“Why not?! I’m amazing!”

You laugh through a tear.

He grins, then cups your face with both hands. “You’re an idiot,” he says, but so fondly it makes your stomach flip.

Then, very softly, “Can I kiss you now?”

You nod, heart in your throat.

He kisses you like he’s waited a lifetime — careful, steady, warm. When he pulls away, you’re still smiling.

He brushes your hair behind your ear and whispers, “You’re never going to cry over another date again.”

“Because you’re going to fight them?”

“No.” He grins. “Because you’re done dating losers. You’re dating me now.”

౨ৎ Jungwon - What took you so long 

You don’t expect anyone to be waiting when you get home.

Your date was forgettable in the worst way — vague answers, barely-there eye contact, the kind of guy who asked questions only to talk about himself. You left early and walked home alone under a gray sky, the city lights blurred through a curtain of drizzle.

You don’t text anyone. You don’t want to talk. You just want the night to be over.

So when you push open your apartment door and find Jungwon sitting on your couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands and a small box of takeout on his lap, you stop in your tracks.

He looks up casually. “You didn’t answer my texts.”

You blink. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“I figured you’d need me.”

The way he says it — need me — sinks under your skin like something dangerous.

You walk in slowly, wet hair dripping onto your shirt, and collapse onto the couch beside him without a word.

“I brought your favorite,” he adds, offering the box. “That noodle thing you get when you’re upset but pretending not to be.”

You take it silently, the warmth of the container grounding you.

He doesn’t ask what happened. He doesn’t have to.

A while later, you’re curled up together under the same blanket, the food half-eaten and a soft playlist humming through the room. You’re both quiet, the way you always are when things get too heavy to name.

You tilt your head toward him.

Jungwon’s watching the rain trail down the window, his profile lit faintly by the glow of the streetlights. One arm rests behind your head, casual but close enough that your shoulders touch. Always close. Always almost.

“You know,” you say softly, “you’d make the perfect boyfriend.”

He blinks.

Then — too quickly — he shifts.

The blanket slips from his shoulder as he moves to set his drink down, knocking over a napkin in the process. He fumbles it. Misses. Swears quietly under his breath.

You blink. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he mumbles. Then, softer, “Just… surprised you’d say that.”

You smile faintly. “Why?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes flick toward yours, unreadable. “Because you’re always chasing guys who aren’t me.”

The words land like a pin dropped in a still room.

You stare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jungwon lets out a long breath, then looks at you fully — not shy, not sarcastic, not teasing. Just… honest.

“It means I’ve been here this whole time,” he says quietly. “Watching you get your heart broken over and over and wishing you’d just look at me.”

Your heart lurches.

“Jungwon…”

“I didn’t say anything because I thought maybe you already knew,” he continues, voice barely above a whisper. “But tonight, when you said that—when you said that—I couldn’t not say it anymore.”

You don’t speak. You’re not sure you can.

“I know I’m quiet about how I feel,” he murmurs. “But I show up. I always show up for you. Because I love you. And I’ve been loving you quietly for so long, I don’t know how to stop.”

Something cracks open in your chest.

You reach out, almost without thinking, fingers brushing his wrist. “I think I’ve always loved the way you love me,” you whisper. “I just didn’t realize that’s what it was.”

He exhales shakily.

And then — like gravity pulling him forward — he leans in, resting his forehead against yours. His voice is soft, barely trembling:

“I’ve been yours for a long time.”

You whisper, “Then maybe it’s time I caught up.”

౨ৎ Ni-ki - Not just a phase

The rain has stopped by the time you make it to his place.

You’re soaked anyway — not just from the weather, but from the date that ended in a fight over whether your standards were “too high.”

You didn’t cry this time.

Not until you walked home in the drizzle and realized how tired you were of pretending the bare minimum was enough.

You’re still blinking away the sting when the door swings open.

Ni-ki stands there in a hoodie and pajama pants, hair messy from sleep, one wireless headphone still in. He blinks once. Takes in your face.

Then without a word, he grabs your wrist and pulls you in.

“You look cold,” he mumbles, already guiding you toward the couch. “Sit. I’ll get the fluffy blanket.”

You don’t even argue. You just drop onto the cushions and watch as he disappears down the hall.

You don’t remember when it started—this instinct he has. This quiet caretaking. One second you’re friends who bicker over cereal brands and game scores, and the next he’s handing you tissues without asking. Wrapping you in the same blanket he used to cocoon himself in during movie nights. Like you’ve always belonged here, even if no one ever said it.

Ni-ki returns with the blanket and throws it over your shoulders, his hands lingering for a second too long.

He doesn’t ask what happened.

He just sits beside you, legs sprawled out, staring ahead like he’s waiting for you to speak.

So you do.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for dating.”

He glances at you. “That bad?”

You nod. “It’s like… I want something real. But everyone I meet makes me feel stupid for asking.”

Ni-ki stays quiet for a second.

Then: “They’re the stupid ones.”

You glance over. “What?”

He shrugs. “For not seeing it. For not recognizing you’re the kind of person people should want.”

Your heart stutters.

He doesn’t look at you when he says it. His eyes are on the floor, hands fidgeting with the drawstring of his hoodie.

You laugh weakly. “Why can’t I just date someone like you?”

His whole body stiffens.

You blink. “Ni-ki?”

He moves too fast. Reaches for the glass on the table. Misses. Knocks it over. It clatters loudly — empty, but loud enough to make you jump.

“Shit—” He rushes to grab it. “I—sorry, sorry. I wasn’t expecting—”

“What did I say?” you ask slowly.

He freezes with the glass in his hand. Doesn’t look at you.

You sit up straighter. “Ni-ki.”

He exhales hard, then sets the glass down. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not fair.”

You stare. “What do you mean?”

Finally — finally — he turns to you. And his eyes are bare.

Not guarded. Not teasing. Just real.

“Because I’ve spent years trying to convince myself that this—” he gestures between you “—was just a phase. That eventually you’d stop showing up at my place with tears in your eyes. That I’d stop wondering what it would be like to be the one you chose.”

You go silent.

Ni-ki lets out a small laugh, bitter and soft. “But I never got over you. I don’t think I ever will.”

Your throat tightens. “You never said anything.”

“Because I didn’t want to ruin it. I didn’t want to lose you just because I caught feelings first.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing.

The Ni-ki who made fun of your bad taste in ramen. Who used to walk you home in high school just because. Who showed up at every breakup with your favorite snacks and a movie cued up. That Ni-ki has been in love with you this whole time?

“I didn’t think you’d ever feel the same,” he murmurs.

You whisper, “What if I do?”

He stops breathing.

You reach for his hand, threading your fingers through his — slowly, carefully, like you’re afraid he’ll disappear.

“I think I’ve been trying to find pieces of you in everyone I’ve dated,” you say quietly. “But no one comes close.”

Ni-ki swallows hard. “You’re serious?”

You nod.

The quiet between you stretches — long and full of something new. Something changing.

Then he whispers, “Can I kiss you?”

You nod again.

So he does.

And it’s everything — every unsaid word, every held breath, every day he stood at your side wondering what it would feel like to be wanted back. His hands are gentle. His lips are soft and searching. And when he pulls away, his voice is the quietest it’s ever been.

“I’ve always been yours,” he whispers.

Thanks for reading! Reblogs + notes always mean a lot 💌

tl: (read rules before asking to be added to any list ᥫ᭡. )

[supi-wupi]

Can’t believe your mine - Seungkwan

pairing: seungkwan x reader synopsis: Seungkwan has been your best friend since forever. In love with you since forever too. Everyone else sees it. But you don’t — until he sings your favorite song, but with your name in it. wc: 2.5k genre: Best Friends to Lovers, Fluff, warning: Established Relationship (eventually), Slowburn (implied history), SEVENTEEN Being SEVENTEEN, Fake FBI Surveillance Energy, Love Confessions via Shared Notes, Joshua is a Secret Softie, No Real Plot Just Vibes a/n: idk why, but yall have probably noticed that i put like case file/letters in all my fics… its not an obsession… its my trademark…

Seungkwan has been your best friend since you were eight, and cried in the hallway because someone made fun of your mushroom haircut. He gave you half his kimbap and told you your hair looked like a very cool helmet, and you decided right then he was your favorite person in the world.

He still is.

Some things never change. Like how he always texts you when he finds a new iced coffee spot, even if it’s 10 p.m and you’re already in bed. Like how he knows your favorite karaoke songs and never complains when you sing them off-key. Like how he always buys two of everything — “just in case you show up,” he says, even though you always do.

Everyone sees it. Sees the way his gaze softens when you’re laughing too hard to breathe. The way he always positions himself between you and a crowded street. The way he sings every birthday song like he’s auditioning for a musical, just to make you smile.

Everyone sees it — except you.

Until your birthday.

You’d had plans with your other friends, who ended up bailing last-minute, citing rain and traffic and general life exhaustion. You’d shrugged it off, said it was fine, that it wasn’t a big deal.

But it kind of was. You don’t like making a fuss, but birthdays still meant something. Especially when you’d secretly hoped someone — maybe him — would do something small and sweet and just for you.

So when you open the door that night to find Seungkwan standing there with a paper bag, soaked hoodie, and the biggest grin, you’re already blinking back something suspicious behind your eyes.

“I brought seaweed soup,” he announces, pushing past you like he owns the place. “Because I’m Korean and sentimental, and also, you looked sad on your story earlier, don’t lie.”

“You saw that?”

“I have notifications on,” he says, like it’s normal. “For emergencies. Or cute selfies. Same thing.”

You laugh while closing the door, heart squeezing in that familiar way it always does around him. He’s already setting out food, rambling about how he had to beg an auntie to let him cut the line because “my best friend’s birthday is today, and I will cry in your shop if you don’t let me through.”

“Did you really say that?” you ask.

“Ask the lady. She said I was dramatic but let me in. I think she was scared of me.”

Later, after the soup, after the tiny cake he baked himself (“Don’t ask how it tastes — just love me for the effort”), after the candles and laughter and a very bad game of charades, he clears his throat.

And that’s when you know something’s up.

Because Seungkwan is always performing, always loud and theatrical and effortlessly funny — but when he’s serious, he gets quiet. Still.

He grabs his phone, clicks something, then sets it down between you.

“Play,” he says.

You do.

Music filters through the speakers — soft, acoustic, gentle. And then his voice, warm like sunlight, starts to sing. It’s your favorite song. The one you always make him do at karaoke, even if he says the key is weird. The one that makes you tear up when you’re tipsy.

But the lyrics are… different.

Because now your name is in it.

Over and over again, like a love letter he never dared to send.

You stare at him. “Is this a joke?”

He shakes his head. “No. Not this time.”

The room is quiet except for his voice echoing through the speakers, weaving your name into each line like it was always meant to be there. You’re not sure when the shift happens — when the realization finally hits — but suddenly everything clicks.

Every late-night call.

Every gentle scolding.

Every saved seat, every shared umbrella, every second he made you feel like you mattered more than anyone else.

It was always there.

You just didn’t see it.

“Seungkwan…”

He bites his lip. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know. That I’ve been yours. For a long time.”

You don’t reply right away. You just reach across the space between you, take his hand, and place it over your chest — right where your heart’s beating so fast it hurts.

—

That night, you fall asleep on the couch with his hoodie around your shoulders and his hand still wrapped in yours.

In the quiet, you hear him murmur — maybe thinking you’re asleep — soft and awestruck:

“Can’t believe you’re mine.”

And neither can you.

But you are.

And maybe… you always were.

—

Three days after Seungkwan sang your name into a song and into your heart, he tells you he wants to tell the others.

“Are you sure?” you ask, because dating your best friend is one thing — letting thirteen grown men descend upon the news like seagulls on a french fry is another.

“I’ve waited years to call you mine,” he says, tying his shoes with a grin so wide you can’t even tease him for how dramatic he sounds. “I want the whole world to know. But I’ll start with the hyungs.”

Which, in hindsight, may have been the mistake.

Because Seungkwan doesn’t just tell them.

No.

He makes a PowerPoint.

—

The next day, you’re sitting in their dorm’s living room, sipping iced tea while Vernon casually browses TikTok on one side and Mingyu attempts to peel a mango with a butter knife on the other. It’s peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Until Seungkwan clears his throat — loudly — and sets up a laptop to the TV.

“Everyone. Eyes front.”

Minghao sighs. “Is this about recycling again?”

“No,” Seungkwan says with a gleam in his eyes. “It’s about my heart.”

You shoot him a look. “Seungkwan—”

“Shh. I’m thriving.”

He clicks the remote.

Slide 1: “The Greatest Love Story Ever Told: Boo Seungkwan & [Y/N]”

Groans erupt. Soonyoung starts clapping. Jeonghan sits up like he just got handed blackmail. Joshua bites back a laugh and says, “Is this real?”

“Yes,” Seungkwan declares proudly. “It’s real. We’re dating.”

Mingyu drops his mango.

“You’re—what?” Woozi blinks. “Since when?”

“Since I sang to her,” Seungkwan says like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

Slide 2: Timeline of Pining: A Tragedy (2008 – The Present)

You bury your face in your hands as he clicks through annotated photos, including one from middle school where you’re holding a juice box and he’s staring at you like you hung the moon.

“Bro,” Dino whispers. “You’ve been down bad.”

“I know,” Seungkwan says, clearly proud.

The slides continue:

Slide 4: Signs She Was Also in Love With Me but Didn’t Know It Yet

Laughed at all my jokes

Shared her fries

Let me win at Mario Kart that one time in 2017

Gave me the biggest slice of cake

“Very convincing,” Jun deadpans.

Slide 6: Proof of Current Status It’s a selfie. You and Seungkwan curled up on your couch, his cheek squished against yours, both smiling so big it hurts to look at.

You peek at him. He’s not even nervous. Just glowing. Like the moment he gets to love you out loud is one he’s rehearsed forever.

“Well…” Jeonghan finally says. “Took you long enough.”

The room explodes.

Everyone talks at once.

“You guys are so annoying,” Vernon says — but he’s smiling.

“Wait, do I owe DK money?” Mingyu groans. “I thought you’d confess in the fall.”

“Soonyoung, pay up!” DK yells from the kitchen.

“Honestly,” Woozi mutters, “this explains so much.”

You’re laughing now, cheeks sore, heart full, as the chaos swells around you.

But then Seungkwan stands again, raising his hand like a conductor calling an encore.

“One last slide.”

Slide 8: Thank You for Supporting Our Love. Then, in tiny font: Yes, you still have to deal with us on karaoke night.

—

Later, when the slides are done and Mingyu’s back to ruining another mango, you’re leaning against Seungkwan’s shoulder, both of you quietly watching the others argue about who gets to be the flower boy at your future wedding.

“They took it well,” you murmur.

“Told you,” he says, smug.

You tilt your head up to look at him. “You made a PowerPoint.”

“And you’re still dating me. Which means I win.”

You roll your eyes — but only a little.

Because he’s right.

You both won.

—

“The Shared Note (and the Receipts)” feat. BooSeungkwan x You, and Joshua: Keeper of Secrets™

A few days after the big PowerPoint reveal, you and Seungkwan drop by the studio to bring lunch.

It’s supposed to be quick.

Just bibimbap, banter, and maybe bullying Woozi into taking a break.

But when Joshua walks in, grinning like he knows something — something more — you realize nothing is ever “just” with SEVENTEEN.

“I have something to show you,” he says, sliding into the seat beside Seungkwan with his phone already out.

“I swear if this is another fan edit of us that you bookmarked—” Seungkwan starts.

Joshua raises an eyebrow. “This is better than a fan edit.”

He opens the Notes app.

At the top is a title that makes your stomach drop:

“Things That Prove Seungkwan and [Y/N] Are Definitely in Love (They Just Don’t Know It Yet)”

Last updated: 3 days ago.

You and Seungkwan: “…”

Joshua: “I started it in 2019.”

—

Selected Excerpts from Joshua’s Note (now shared with all thirteen members)

[Feb 17, 2019] Y/N gave Seungkwan the last honey butter chip. The last one. She loves those. They made eye contact. He tried to say “thanks” and choked on his own breath.

[June 2, 2019] Seungkwan’s voice cracked mid-rehearsal. Y/N immediately handed him a honey-lemon candy before he even asked. She said, “I always carry extras for you.” Okay, wife???

[Oct 14, 2020] They sat on opposite ends of the couch and STILL managed to be the only ones who got tangled in the blanket. Suspicious.

[March 25, 2021] During game night, Y/N guessed what Seungkwan was thinking without him giving any clues. She just said, “The pink dolphin from Jeju, right?” and he nodded like she read his soul. Wtf.

[Dec 31, 2021] Countdown to New Year’s. Everyone was screaming. I saw Seungkwan look at her first.

[June 5, 2022] I caught them arguing about who cares more about the other. Like. Out loud. In public. Minghao almost left the building.

[Aug 18, 2022] Y/N sang “As It Was” while organizing lyric drafts. Seungkwan sat there staring like she was performing on the MAMA stage. I asked what he was doing. He said, “Having a moment.” Bro???

[Feb 14, 2023] Valentine’s Day. Neither of them had plans. Both “accidentally” ended up at my movie night. Sat way too close. Shared popcorn. Didn’t even notice when Jeonghan fake-coughed ten times.

[Oct 9, 2023] DK asked if they were dating. They both said no — but neither of them looked at each other. They looked straight ahead like hostages.

[Jan 2, 2024] Y/N fixed Seungkwan’s collar before an interview. He looked at her like she gave him CPR.

[May 25, 2025] THEY. ARE. TOGETHER. Boo Seungkwan finally made a move. I was RIGHT.

—

You’re speechless.

Seungkwan is squinting at the screen like it personally offended him.

“Wait,” he says, “how did I not know you were tracking us like a detective?”

Joshua just smiles, serene. “You think I run this group on vibes?”

“Actually, yes,” you mumble, stunned.

“But this… this is organized,” Seungkwan mutters.

“It was necessary,” Joshua says, sipping his coffee. “One of you was gonna need it eventually.”

He locks eyes with you.

“I just figured… when the day came, you’d want to remember how it started.”

You glance down at the note again — all those little dates and details, things you didn’t even realize were special until now.

And somehow, you feel like you’re seeing your love story from the outside for the first time.

Seungkwan quietly reaches for your hand under the table.

And you squeeze it.

“Thanks, Shuji,” you whisper.

Joshua nods, ever cool. “I’ll add today’s entry too.”

“What—why?” Seungkwan asks.

Joshua types something.

[May 28, 2025] Showed them the note. They held hands under the table. Seungkwan cried. (He will deny it.)

“Delete that!” Seungkwan shrieks, lunging for the phone.

Joshua’s already backing away, cackling. “Too late. Synced to the cloud.”

—

“The Shared Note: Member Addendums (a.k.a. SEVENTEEN’s FBI Files on You Two)”

[Titled by: Jeonghan, Edited by: DK, Verified by: Dino, Denied by: Seungkwan]

Document Status: NEVER GETTING DELETED Last Edited: Literally Just Now

JEONGHAN'S ENTRY

[July 7, 2020] I asked Seungkwan if he was jealous of Y/N talking to Mingyu too much. He turned to me and went, “Why would I be jealous? I’m not—what? I’m fine.” Then I caught him three minutes later watching them from behind a plant. Like. A plant.

Verdict: Denial. Classic. Would’ve bet my skincare stash on this ship.

—

MINGYU’S ENTRY

[Nov 12, 2021] I spilled gochujang on my hoodie. Y/N helped me clean it up. Seungkwan saw it and immediately asked if she does that for all of us. I said yes. She said no. He smiled. Then gave me the stink eye for 2 hours.

Verdict: Boo Boo’s down bad.

—

HOSHI’S ENTRY

[March 3, 2022] They were bickering in the practice room and I was like “KISS ALREADY!” They stopped. Stared at me. Then kept arguing. But like… quieter. Like shy arguing. Romantic arguing.

Verdict: That was foreplay, Your Honor.

—

JUN’S ENTRY

[Aug 15, 2022] I caught them sharing earphones backstage. They weren’t even listening to music. The playlist was paused. They just… sat there. Pretending. Looking like a drama teaser.

Verdict: That’s not Spotify. That’s love.

—

DK’S ENTRY

[Dec 25, 2022] Christmas party. Everyone opened their Secret Santa gifts. Seungkwan got a hot water bottle with a corgi print. He said, “Only Y/N would know I love this.” Y/N wasn’t even his Santa.It was me. Y/N just told me what to buy.

Verdict: He’s so whipped it’s actually inspiring.

—

WONWOO’S ENTRY

[Feb 10, 2023] During movie night, Seungkwan laughed before the punchline of the joke. Everyone stared. He muttered, “Y/N always laughs here.” He memorized her laugh timing????

Verdict: Creepy? Maybe. Romantic? Definitely.

—

WOOZI’S ENTRY

[April 1, 2023] I made them listen to a demo. Y/N cried. Seungkwan cried harder.Then Y/N said, “I just felt it.” And Seungkwan said, “Me too. For you.” They forgot I was in the room. I’m pretty sure I ghost-wrote their love confession.

Verdict: I’m charging royalties.

—

VERNON’S ENTRY

[June 30, 2023] They weren’t even touching but somehow their knees found each other under the table. Like… magnetic knees. Quantum entanglement. Knee soulmate physics. Idk man.

Verdict: They’re soft. I respect it.

—

DINO’S ENTRY

[Nov 11, 2023] Y/N once tripped over my charger. Seungkwan gasped like she got stabbed. Immediately blamed ME. Said, “How dare you sabotage the light of my life.” …She didn’t even fall. She caught herself.

Verdict: Simp behavior. Peak performance. I strive for this.

—

JOSHUA'S FINAL ADDENDUM

[May 29, 2025] Let the record show: Today, every member added their receipts. Seungkwan tried to hack the note to delete all evidence. He failed. Y/N laughed so hard she cried. He kissed her to shut her up. We all saw it. Hoshi screamed.

Verdict: Case closed. Love won. Jeonghan still owes me ₩50,000.

masterlist ♪

[starrvsn]

ꕮ ˚₊ ꒰ EVAN BUCKLEY & EDDIE DIAZ ⁾⁾ LIVE WHILE YOU’RE YOUNG!

OVER THE INTERCOM ⠆this is soooo self indulgent... also putting off watching the rest of season 8 because i know it'll break me aka me reading one frat-boy!au of buck and being obsessed ever since also i love these two men so much i had to make a whole mood board! (also if you have any requests about these two men pls flood my inbox <3)

WORD COUNT ⠆5.5K (5,582) not super satisfied with how this came out but love it nonetheless

PAIRING ⠆evan 'buck' buckley x fem!reader x eddie diaz.

CATEGORIES ⠆afab!reader, frat-party, college!au, ravi as a pledge, suggestive, descriptions of alcohol, drugs, sloppy kissing?, buck and eddie being the double trouble that they are, reader is a bit shy :p, mentions of a revealing outfit (a basic one at that, average party girl fit so fell free to imagine it any way you want!), may is her college bestie, not 9-1-1 canon in the slightest, all characters are used in complete fiction!

here’s a playlist to give a listen, a vibe enhancer perhaps ;)

﹡some dialogue is italicized, just thought it flowed better over text!

with college life comes traditions.

with your friend group every frat party, you pick two pieces of paper from a hat and those are your dares for the night, also called frat-cap roulette. the only rules being: no back outs! and you must tell your experience the day after. partying isn't just about the free booze and oogling at hot eye candy all night, its also about having fun and living your life! to live a little and do things you've never done before.

the dares you pulled out for the night are definitely things you've never done before.

1) do a keg stand! even if you dont like the taste of beer! think of it of impressing the hot guy holding up your legs. 2) a menage a trois! more simply three way kiss, what's better than not only kissing two guys but at the same time! go get em tiger!

you think you might faint, you didn't go to frat parties much didn't even know which houses threw the best ones but everytime you did, the girls insisted you pick from the hat. ones you've gotten in the past were more manageable like having someone ghost smoke into your mouth or getting a shoulder ride from a pledge, those are what you'd consider more tame but these? you might have to skip out on this one and any ones in the future, you almost shiver knowing if the ones you had were bad, there had to be worse in that hat.

"oh come on y/n" may whines flopping onto your bed. after getting your dares for the night you were terrified! so what if everyone was drunk and high out of their minds to even care, it would still be weighing on your conscious, way too much for your liking. you thought, initially you were just trying to psych yourself out so you busied yourself with getting ready, your hair and makeup. by the time you finished it started feeling real, very real, too real that you stopped not even bothering to change and reluctantly told may you didn't want to go any more.

"no! i can't, i don’t care if i break the rules.” you practically cry out “these dares are like crazy i'm gonna make a fool out of myself." plopping down on your vanity chair with a huff, no way you were gonna embarrass your way out to transfer out.

"babe, thats the point! no ones gonna remember it the next day and who even gives a fuck if they do?” may attested, getting off your bed to stand in front of you, hands on her hips like a lecturing mother. “this is like a once in a life time experience, we're living our lives remember?" her eyes soften to look at you, head tilting. then insisting if you weren’t going she wasn’t either and may was never one to miss a party.

you caved.

only bribed by may who swore she’d do your laundry and give you a few of her meal swipes if you went. she of course, as well picked your outfit. a black mini skort, thank god for the safety shorts– the fabric over left little to the imagination and a deep red lace halter that dipped low into your cleavage. the girls are out to show tonight! may whistles, proud of her work you’re gonna have no problem getting those dares done, now let’s take pics! you barely get your shoes on before she drags you out to the common room for pregame and pictures. feeling yourself and buzzed, your worrying thoughts slipping from you, this was already going better than you thought.

the alcohol is doing little to keep you warm as you walk to the frat house. hands linked with may as she practically skips towards the party, your friends behind you blistering about their dares and latest flings. you chose to keep yours to yourself, thinking if you shared them it'd create more pressure for you.

tonight’s house of choice psi sigma tau a house full of hotties may tells you, going on to say the last party they had they were all dressed as firefighters. shame you missed that one. you weren't super farmilar with greek life and who was apart of it but you know, your biochem lab partner, ravi was currently a pledge for this very frat. once coming in insanely hung over with streaks of paint on his face- telling you all about it, forgetting your assignment, focusing instead on retelling every moment of his previous night. you were in for a treat. it makes your nerves spike. you practically felt thumping bass of the music before you even reached the house. the house stood at the end of the street, porch light flickering and door wide open, an invitation to all. as you approach the stairs off the lawn, there’s people spread sporadically across the grass, red solo cups in hand, laughter and shouts spilling into the street like a wave ready to crash.

you took a deep breath, the bass shaking in your chest matching the rhythm of your beating chest. just one night, you told yourself. following behind may. at the door a chest full of shooters, a whole variety of them. with a sign, scribbled messily with uneven letters: entry fee, down a shooter! mama aint raise no bitch!

'wow they really pull all the stops' you murmur, picking up a pink whitney shooter from the ice, cool against your warm fingers. 'yep, thats why we like coming here, most parties dont have a guest list' your roommate, addison tells you downing her shooter in one go, you wince, cracking yours open and doing the same. the alcohol burning your throat, the pink lemonade aftertaste lingering in your mouth making you smack your lips in distain.

your group stands by in the doorway, at the base of the stairs. sage—your proclaimed mom friend of the group and creator of frat-cap roulette, gathers your group of six to set down some ground rules. 'okay ladies! remember have the time of your lives, dont throw up unless it's in the toilet, be safe and live your fucking best lives and do your dares!' she yells over the music, your friends shouting in agreement, hooting and yelling, eager to have fun before all splitting off. you and may are left, encouraging smiles and compliments bouncing off the two of you. she tells you to be safe and you mirror her words, shouting 'i love yous' before she disappears into the crowd to god knows where.

now that leaves you alone, the air was thick—sweat, cologne, alcohol, and the faint trace of weed clung to every surface. a haze of smoke floated through the house. the kitchen flooded with people people taking turns at beer pong or slapping hands in loud celebration, the living room turned into a dance floor, with a makeshift DJ booth at the wall, blasting whatever 2000s club playlist they could find. the house is dark but illuminated by strobing lights of blues, greens and reds. bodies pressed together, swaying and grinding on the nearest body they can find, the party is at it's peak.

come y/n fucking live for once! you got this. your inner conscious yelling at you, your hands are already clamming and feeling little sweaty from the heat radiating off everyone, you take a deep breath, straightening yourself before diving into the crowd, moving through until you get to the kitchen, for a drink. through the crowd you see ravi, wearing a stupidly tight crop top that says 'tomorrow isn't promised, we need to fuck now' in big capitalized red words, not ignoring the imprint of his abs to the exposing ones down his stomach. you laugh as you pass, ravi catching you and insisting you shotgun a white claw together. he drags you to the kitchen, loud and full of people playing beer pong.

"nice shirt!" you laugh, watching as he hands you a white claw from one of the coolers, he sways a little, steadying himself with a hand on your shoulder. "hazing, they picked out the shirts and we wear." yelling into your ear, pointing over your shoulder to another pledge wearing a shirt that said 'i wish i had serotonin instead of a huge cock' these hazing activities seemed so wholesome, brotherhood seems good here. ravi drukenly hypes you up as you puncture a hole into the base of the can, he hands his phone, recording, to a frat brother before cheer-sing you. here goes nothing, putting your lips to the puncture and fingers at the pull tab, you crack it open, tilting your head back as you chug it, the cool carbonated seltzer burning your throat as you drink, breathing through your nose whilst the burn down your throat made had your struggling. ravi finishes before you, chugging it in 2 big gulps, it takes you four– usually you never finish it or end up spitting it out so this was a win for you. you hear cheering an whooping as you finish up, as you set the can down you see two men who have joined behind ravi.

‘well look who have here,’ a man with devestating blue eyes pairing well with the pink birthmark above his his eye, tall and broad, standing before you, next to him a man with tan skin, brown eyes that felt like warm honey, and a dimple that betrayed his calm demeanor, backwards hat sporting his head, they’re insufferably attractive making your stomach twist with attraction, or maybe it was the alcohol. the dimpled man wordlessly points to your chest where a trail of the seltzer dripped in between your cleavage, cheeks flushed you clean yourself with a napkin on a nearby counter, he throws you a wink when you do so.

at the sound of the voice, ravi turns around and bursts with excitement, turning to the two men beaming smiles and crescent eyes as they talk. you see them pointing at you over ravi’s shoulder making you feel light headed and tingly, heart racing. ravi turns and grabs your arm pulling you into the conversation ‘this is eddie and buck, two peas in a pod’ he slurs, the two men shake their head at the title ‘they’re always together, like each others shadows it’s kinda freaky’ ravi mutters, really yelling– though it was only meant for you, everyone heard. '

‘so you’re friends with gunslinger here?' eddie pipes up, tipping his cup to you, honey brown eyes catching yours. you feel like a fish out of water, looking at him, the alcohol and nerves making it hard to even think of what to say.

‘this is y/n i have her in lab’ the pledge finishes for you, the two nod eyes focused on you- taking in your presence like they were trying to memorize your every feature, eyes not so subtly dragging up and down your figure, ravi is quick to pull away from the conversation as someone calls his name, something about body shots in the living room. leaving you to deal with two men that were way out of your league, or so you thought.

hm, new pretty face. would've remembered you if you were here last time buck grins, eyes smoldering.

his words make you scoff a laugh ‘use that line on all the girls?’ you may be drunk but you aren't stupid, your eyes challenging his.

‘only on the special ones’ he replies coolly, a stupid smirk on his face that makes you a little weak in the knees.

‘sorry, originality isn’t his specialty.’ eddie’s quick to retort his voice low but smooth, teasing just enough to make your spine tingle. he tips his head slightly, letting that lazy smile tug at the corner of his mouth. it’s the kind of smile that says he’s used to getting what he wants, but not in the way buck is. buck’s energy is all flash and flirt, while eddie is something else entirely—smooth and confident, the type of nonchalant where things come to him a little too easy.

you shoot him a look, biting back a smile, alcohol practically speaking for you. “good thing i like a little unoriginal charm,” you toss out, eyes flicking between the two of them.

buck’s brows raise, impressed. eddie chuckles softly, and god, the way it rumbles out of his chest should be illegal. “oh, shes trouble,” he murmurs to buck, not bothering to hide the way he’s still watching you. his gaze lingers on your lips a beat too long.

“what’re you drinking?” buck asks, leaning closer, close enough that you catch the scent of cologne and beer, something woodsy and warm clinging to him. you hold up your nearly empty white claw, shrugging

“basically air at this point,” you say, tipping the can upside down.

“tragic,” buck says with mock sincerity. “come on. we’re getting you a real drink.”

“define real,” you shoot back, but you follow anyway, trailing after the two of them as they lead you further into the house, deeper into the party.

they take you to a makeshift bar set up on a foldable table in the sun room, attached to the kitchen and just adjacent to the backyard. plastic bottles of questionable mixers, a few crushed limes, and one brave soul attempting to make jungle juice in a salad bowl.

“what’s your poison?” eddie asks, nudging your hip with his. it’s casual, but it leaves a spark where he touched you. his arm brushes yours as he reaches for a red cup.

“something that won’t kill me,” you answer, watching as he mixes you something, his hands moving with ease. meanwhile, buck grabs a bottle of tequila and dramatically pours three shots, heavy handed ones at that– almost filled to the top of the shot glasses “not what i meant,” you laugh, shaking your head.

“too late,” buck grins. “cheers, trouble.” the newfound nickname rolling off his tongue far to easily.

you hesitate for only a second before grabbing the cup and clinking it against theirs, chugging it down with a distain. immediately shoving a lime in your mouth to smooth the burning alcohol on your tongue. you feel their eyes lingering on you, like they’re awaiting your next move that hopefully involves them.

eddie’s the one who speaks first. “you’re not usually at these, are you?”

his voice is smooth, with a thread of curiosity running through it. he doesn’t sound like he’s judging, more like he’s trying to figure you out. there’s a quiet steadiness to him that contrasts buck’s energy, who’s already leaning against the counter beside you, eyes roaming with that familiar frat boy smirk.

you turn toward eddie, eyebrows raised slightly. “how can you tell?”

buck grins, answering for him. “easy. it feels like you're waiting for something to happen, like you're not the type to let loose like this” it didn't mean to come off rude or condescending but it was the truth, you always had your guard up, drinking was fun but you didn't let yourself indulge. he saw right through you.

you huff a small laugh, swirling the drink in your cup. “maybe i’m just good at blending in.”

“nah,” eddie says, eyes catching yours like they’ve hooked onto something. “you’re trying not to be noticed. not the same thing.”

he’s not wrong. you were trying to blend in. trying to distract yourself with drinks and familiar faces while pretending you weren’t running through worst-case scenarios in your head about the dares tucked tightly in your memory. just thinking about them made your stomach flutter—and not in the good way.

“well,” you reply, “i pulled the short straw tonight.”

“you got dared?” buck asks, lighting up with interest. “frat-cap roulette, right?”

"you know?" you were definitely thrown out for a loop now, you knew it wasn't exclusive to just your friend group but with how your friends spoke about it, it almost seemed like fight club.

"oh yeah," buck replies, going on to tell you how they've been roped into some. involving receiving a lap dance, getting flashed and eddie having to switch his entire outfit with a girl wearing a less than nothing dress, buck almost pulls how his phone to show you a picture but eddie is quick to stop him, giving him a look that makes his best friend stop in reluctant defeat. your entertainment is short lived when they ask about you, what your dares entailed for your night. you don’t answer right away. instead, you take a sip from the red solo cup of whatever eddie mixed up for you, eyes scanning the crowd behind them—anywhere but their faces. it’s not like you’re ashamed, but you are trying to hold onto whatever courage you have left. if you say it out loud, it makes it real. and you’re not sure you’re there yet.

buck catches on fast. “you’re dares must be good ones, lots of freaky shit in that hat.” you drink from cup eddie slides you, hiding your grimace, if only he knew.

“or a bad one,” eddie adds, voice lower, teasing. “you’re drinking like you’re preparing for battle.”

“what makes you think i’m not?” you mutter under your breath, offering a coy smile, regaining yourself quickly.

that earns a laugh from both of them. it’s warm, easy. and dangerously charming.

you should probably leave. find may. hide in the bathroom. but something keeps you planted, drawn in by the magnetic pull they both seem to exude without even trying.

you nod toward ravi, who’s just re-entered the kitchen from god knows where—his crop top now speckled with something neon green. “this place always like this?”

“basically,” eddie says, arms folded over his chest, biceps flexing under the sleeves of his t-shirt.

“we host ragers, a perfect place to exercise your free will with no regrets,” buck adds with a wink.

“what does that even mean?” you tease, the edges of your nerves softening just slightly.

“it means if you’re about to do something crazy,” eddie leans in slightly, voice dropping, “you picked the right house.”

you raise an eyebrow, letting the pause stretch between you before replying. “we’ll see.”

“c’mon,” buck nudges your elbow. “just tell us what your dare is. we’ll help.”

you smirk into your drink, letting your voice drop just above a whisper. “where’s the fun in that?”

you watch their expressions shift—buck looking like he’s just been issued the most exciting challenge of his night, and eddie watching you with that same steady gaze, like he’s trying to memorize the way you carry your mystery.

“alright, then,” buck says, straightening. “we’re playing it your way. but if i catch you doing something ridiculous like… surfing down the stairs on a mattress again-”

“again?” you ask with a grin.

“long story. involved ravi, some random girl playing frat-cup roulette, lots of pillows and my football helmet.” listing it on like a bad memory, probably explaining the slight dent in the wall at the stairs.

“right, ill keep that in mind,” you laugh.

eddie takes a slow sip of his drink, still watching you. “you’re not just here to watch, though. that much is obvious.”

you shrug, letting the silence answer for you. you feel the alcohol buzzing through your veins, the heat of the party loosening your limbs. the music thumps harder now—bass vibrating through the kitchen floors.

“alright, mystery girl,” buck leans in just a bit closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “if you won’t tell us the dare, at least let us keep an eye out. make sure you don’t end up on the roof in a tutu or something.”

“tempting offer,” you say, glancing between them. “but i think i’ll take my chances.”

“oh, she’s definitely planning something,” buck mutters to eddie, who only laughs softly and nods.

you take one step back, flashing them both a smile. “i guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

and just like that, you disappear into the crowd—leaving them standing there, drinks in hand, the smell of tequila and possibility in the air.

buck whistles low, shaking his head. “so… are we following her?”

eddie finishes his drink in one sip, quickly replying “absolutely.”

you melt into the crowd, bodies pressed together, people whooping loud at a pair making out, drinks spilling from cups, and loud bass ringing in your ears. lights strobe over you in flashes; green, red, blue— hidden in anonymity under the dark room. you’re buzzed enough now that your confidence is catching up to your adrenaline. your drink is finished, long forgotten on some windowsill, and the room spins just the tiniest bit when you finally spot the keg.

it’s in the backyard. lit by a string of tangled fairy lights, surrounded by a small, rowdy crowd yelling encouragements at the poor guy currently upside down, foam and beer pouring everywhere. he slaps the keg, yelling who's your daddy from the top of their lungs, practically ripping their shirt in half as their friends cheer him on. how were you supposed to top that?

you were psyching yourself out again, swallowing your pride in an effort to let the alcohol take over and just do it. you can do this.

you have to do this, even if you didn’t want too. curse sage and her rules.

“need a lift, sweetheart?” you turn at the voice. it’s buck grinning, eyes full of mischief. eddie stands just behind him, adjusting his hat hiding his locks, that unreadable look on his face again like he’s still trying to solve the puzzle that is you.

your stomach twists, not unpleasantly. you cross your arms over your chest, lifting your chin. “what makes you think i’m gonna do it?”

“because you’ve been staring at that keg like it'll just magically give you what you need.” eddie says, stepping forward.

you huff a laugh, caught. “okay, maybe it’s one of the dares.”

buck whoops triumphantly, pointing at you. “i knew it.”

“not like i want to do it but you know… never hurt to try something once right?”

“never, it’ll make a good memory.” eddie replies, trying to lighten you mind, eyeing your tense shoulders.

“yeah if i don’t eat shit and die,” you say, raising your brows, “but i need some support.”

“what, to cheer you on?” buck asks.

“to hold my legs,” you reply, voice light but firm. and just like that, their smirks drop into something heavier.

eddie finishes his drink and sets the cup down. “we’re in.”

“obviously,” buck adds.

you pull your already short skirt down, hoping it wouldn't ride up. you’re tipsy, but determined, your whole body buzzing now—not just from the alcohol, but from the way they’re watching you. curious. amused. impressed. maybe even a little turned on.

buck crouches low, fingers flexing. “you sure?”

“no,” you admit with a breathless laugh. “but what the hell.”

they lift you with surprising ease—buck at your knees, legs over his shoulder. eddie crouched beside you holding your skirt with chivalrous grace, your skin practically burning at his fingering brushing your thighs as his other holds the keg nozzle. holding it to your mouth waiting for your okay, your arms practically feel like jelly as you hold on the rim. he looks at you softer now, no judgment if you suddenly back out but now theres a burning determination in your stomach when your eyes catch his. you take a deep breath, already bracing for the bitter cold beer. eddie nods in encouragement as buck whoops behind you, a crowd already forming. you nod and eddie presses on the side of the nozzle. you squeal when the cold beer hits your lips. the crowd around you cheers, counting loudly.

“one! two! three—!”

you barely make it to six before tapping out, coughing through the foam, the burn in your throat too much. they lower you gently to the ground, hands lingering a little longer than necessary as you regain your balance, eddie is quick to fix your appearance, flattening your hair and pushing some behind your ears that fell when you were upside down. his tenderness not going unnoticed by you and its incredibly attractive.

you wobble, giggling, wiping beer from your lips with the back of your hand.

“okay,” you say, breathless. “that went better than i thought.” buck and eddie giving you triumphant high-fives as their attentively at your side, bucks hand warm on your lower back.

"you killed it, done it better than either of us." eddie praises, he's just saying that but in reality its true. one party buck drunkenly convinced himself that he can do it on his own, practically doing a hand stand on the keg that almost landed him in the hospital.

buck leans in, smug. “so what's left not the table?” obviously trying to get you to spill your second dare.

you glance between them, still not giving in fully. “you’ll know when it happens.”

eddie raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “is that a threat or a promise?”

you don’t answer—just tilt your head, letting your eyes drag slowly from eddie to buck.

“depends on how tonight plays out.” you say easily, already making your way back into the house. beer still dripping from your top, heart racing. you don’t know how long you’ll last before the second dare gets you, but you know exactly who you want it to happen with.

the pair are already tailing behind you, "we'll be there when it happens." buck quips, fully enticed with what you may have up your sleeve. admittedly they've never had a girl capture their attention like you did. like their was a gravitational pull leading them to you and they weren't upset about it

“good,” you say, turning to head back inside, tossing a look over your shoulder. “you’ll need to be.”

you think you lose them when you somehow make your way into a bathroom, questionable stains on the sink and towels haphazardly throw everywhere. you groan and make quick work in cleaning yourself up. the easy part was over, the keg stand wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it would be, the beer still lingering in the back of your throat making you nearly gag if you thought about it for too long. desperately telling yourself you didn’t need to throw up when the toilet was looking at you way to enticingly. the hard part came next. a three way kiss, you didn’t think you’d get this far into the night and there was so way out of it. now entangled with eddie and buck, so invested with your dares– you think you could just sneak out and hopefully never see them again, just deluded to the memories of your night so far but something in you was tell you not to. this was the most play you’ve gotten so far in the semester and you wanted to kiss them and you know they did too, that’s what scared you– you weren’t as smooth or half as charming as they were, but all you knew is that you needed another drink before you can even think of attempting the second part.

after another shotgun with ravi with little to no convincing on either parts, you find yourself on the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room. the floor is pulsing like a heartbeat, bodies moving with the beat, lost in the throb of bass and smoke and strobe. you slip into it easily, your body already warmed from the keg stand and a new buzz from the shot gun, your skin still tingling from their hands.

you’ve lost yourself to the music, dancing with friends you know from previous lectures, even with ravi– twirling you into a dip, you were having fun, the dare slipping from you mind as you laugh and sway amidst the music.

you feel them before you see them. eddie’s presence behind you, broad and steady, and buck’s just off to your side, playful energy radiating like heat. you don’t look back.

you just sway your hips to the rhythm, letting yourself fall deeper into the music, letting the beat pull you under. arms up, eyes closed, the crowd pressing in—someone’s back hits your shoulder, someone else’s arm brushes yours, but then they’re there.

eddie’s hands settle lightly on your hips, grounding you. he doesn’t pull, doesn’t rush, he just follows your movement, letting his fingers flex against the bare skin beneath your top. buck’s closer now too, eyes trained on your mouth, lip caught between his teeth, now in front of you.

then, you open your eyes.

“ you gonna just stand there or are you gonna do something?you shout over the music, glancing between them with a teasing smile.

“thought you were the one with the dare,” eddie replies, voice low and right in your ear.

“and if i am?” you ask, tilting your chin toward buck.

his smirk deepens, a nonchalant shrug with his words “maybe we’re just waiting for you to pick who you want.”

you hum at that, heart pounding harder. the adrenaline and booze taking over your senses, in the heat of the moment, buck looking so attractive in front of you, his eyes roaming and lingering on your lips, you don’t miss a beat.

you look at buck through your lashes, prettily enough as you lean closer to him. just long enough for him to see it coming. then, you reach for him, sliding your hand around the back of his neck and pulling him in soft lips crashing into yours, a ghost of a smile against your lips. his hands falling to your waist pulling you close.

he gets rougher as you kiss, like he’s been waiting for this to happen, making the most out of it like you’re going to disappear into thin air. hot opened mouth kisses as his tongue brushing yours, teeth grazing yours, nibbling at your bottom lip as you tilt your head back to deepen the kiss. he groans softly into your mouth, his hands all over you, cupping your jaw before lacing his digits in your hair– tugging gently. pulling a soft whine from you. he leans into you as you pull away, a sound of dissatisfaction leaving him.

you break away just long enough to turn.

eddie’s closer now, his eyes dark and lust fueled as they lock onto yours. lifting his hand to brush your jaw, he’s eager but awaiting your permission before you lean in. the kiss is slower and deeper, lips warm and sure against yours.

he kisses like he means it, like he doesn’t care about the dare or the party or the people around you, just the feel of your lips on his. his lips mold against yours, soft and deep tasting the remnants of your strawberry flavored lip gloss, hands on your hips pulling you against him, long and fluid like he’s savoring it. he takes his time kissing you, you thread your fingers at his nape feeling as he gets rougher, tongue pushing past your lips, swirling around yours chasing for more.

your forehead pressed against his as you inevitably pull away. buck behind you, chest rising– incredibly turned on as you kiss his best friend. you feel lightheaded as you pull away, kissing both men you’ve been pinning over all night.

their eyes intense on you as your hands rest on both of their chests, your body wedged deliciously between them. they’re staring at you like you just flipped their world upside down.

lips swollen and eyes blown out, a bit breathless. you bite your bottom lip, eyes darting between them. “now, the dare.”

they don’t need more than that.

buck leans in first, eddie following like second nature, and then—your lips meet again, all three of you this time, tangled in a brief but electric collision. soft and wild and ridiculously hot, a mess of lips and breath, wandering hands and someone’s teeth catching on a lip and a muffled fuck as buck smiled against her mouth and eddie pressed a hand digging into your hip a little harder like he forgot to hold back. just long enough to taste each other, just long enough to make your knees weak.

when you finally pull back, all three of you are breathless. buck’s eyes are wide, his grin lopsided. eddie’s gaze lingers on your mouth like he’s already thinking about doing it again, rubbing soothing circles on your hip.

“so,” buck says, voice rougher now, “what else is in that hat?”

you laugh, dizzy and still reeling. “guess you’ll have to wait ‘til the next party.”

eddie’s hand slips around your waist, pulling his hat off and drops it onto your head, his free hand soothing his mess of hair as buck drapes an arm around your shoulders, throwing you a wink. the three of you moving together as the music swells around you.

the night you were waiting to be before dissipated into not wanting to leave, they made it into something worth while, something that felt like more than just those stupid dares. you could care less about how your friends are definitely going to drag this story out until graduation. you feel... good. lighter than you have in weeks. achieving more than what you could ask for tonight with two men by your side with no plans to leave.

you definitely are living your best life tonight and it definitely won't be your last.

ownership of starrvsn. please do not repost, modify or translate.

[lovejongseob]

hii !! can u write a "idol!reader x jiung"?? u r so talented (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡ tysmm

-🍨.

Jiung x Idol Reader

Hiiii again 🍨 !! Awwww thank you so much !! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ Ty for requesting, I hope you enjoy !!

If you're ever having small or casual interactions on camera, Jiung excels at acting professional. He is exceptionally skilled in this, and experiences basically no issues here. While he does wish he didn't have to be so secretive, he knows you both love each other, and personally wouldn't want to do a lot of pda anyway. You aren't too surprised given how engrained media training is, but a small, small part of you is a little shocked at how easily he can somewhat split up his personality. All in all, this is a positive thing given your shared line of work.

If you happen to be in a professional situation where you interact a bit frequently, or need to be more friendly, he's still respectfully reserved, but a little warmer. Jiung is just a tad calculating, and would set up a dynamic where you two are cool in collaboration, but leave no room for shipping among fans. Very good at making crossover episode like atmospheres. It almost feels like someone got isekai'd there, fans don't really see value in romantic pairing, but it's entertaining nonetheless.

Jiung often wishes he could have more time to spend with you. However, he is used to, and respects, the busy schedules, events, touring, meetings, practicing, cameras, and too many things to count at once. He understands you two have to live separate lives to an extent. He loves you a lot in private, and holds those moments close to his heart. He adores you, everything you do, as well as his group and craft, its because of that he separates his work and intimate life so much.

That being said, he doesn't mind an overlap in talking about work. He even more so, is happy when discussing private music and lyrics, art not really made to be released. Jiung wonders a lot about what you're working on, he likes to actually hear it himself. Accidentally inspirational, he can turn the idea of what he thought you would make into a song. Loves hearing your thought process, and emotion behind what you make. Overjoyed when you listen to what he has to say about stuff has been putting effort into. A lot of thoughts he's excited to spill out, but he gets why you might just want to forget about all that for a second.

A lot of playlists based on you, he has has quite the complex, but very organized selection. He has ones with your music, other songs that remind him of you, playlists based on moments and things he loves about you, and even themed ones around specific eras or looks you've had. Jiung also has a playlist of all the covers he has of you, or has found, and a separate of his personal favorites. Would have one to fall asleep to.

Jiung tries to add whimsy and fun into your day with small gestures. Sends you pretty fanart and edits he see's of you, miscellaneous photos, lyrics or book quotes he thinks you'd like, or sometimes diabolical but amusing bursts of texts or images. When he gets time with you, he's trying to make you laugh, or help you relax. Genuinely holds a lot of admiration for your talent and the hard work you put in, he feels honored to be your boyfriend.

Bonus texts:

All found on Pinterest again

thank you sm for requesting again !! i hope you enjoy !! fr though i really hope p1h gets more time for themselves, i absolutely love all their content but fnc needs to give them breaks. always feel like im forgetting something oh my god i cant take it anymore. fuck it we schedule 🙏🙏

[ilovesoapandnotthebar]

50 Shades of Platonic

( Warning its kinda spicy, but not really)

Sorry if it seems rushed I'm not one for slow burns. I love the idea of this, maybe i should do it with ghost.... who knows though. Anyway I promise I am working on the new chapter of 141 foundations soon-ish( I'm having a hard to with the POVs so.)

Let me know if you want to see this with ghost because I'm down to try!! Okay have fun reading.

Btw I recommend listing to this song when you read

( Not the music video that shits weird )

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊❀

The rain had been falling since late afternoon, sending a relaxed vibe over you. You sat curled up on the far end of your friend Soap's plush navy couch, fingers wrapped around a steaming mug of honey tea that he made “just for you.” Soap lounged on the other end—bare feet on the coffee table, blanket haphazardly over one leg, remote in hand.

“So you’ve seriously never seen Fifty Shades of Grey?” he asked for the third time, raising an eyebrow.

You groaned. “Soap. I’ve managed to go twenty-something years without it. Why ruin the streak now?”

He gave you that lopsided grin—the one that made your stomach do that obnoxious little somersault—and shrugged. “Because it’s time. Besides…” He turned to face you more directly, voice dropping to a whisper. “You need to see what love looks like.”

That caught you off guard. You nearly choked on your tea. “That’s your example?! Bondage and control issues?!”

Soap laughed, and something softened in his expression. “I don’t mean that part. Just… the way someone goes all-in. You’ve been kinda alone lately. Thought it might remind you that passion still exists.”

He didn’t mean anything by it. He never did. Not the lingering looks when he thought you weren’t paying attention, not the gentle way he pulled blankets over you if you fell asleep on movie nights, not even the text he once sent at 1 a.m. that just said: You okay?

But you noticed everything. Every single thing.

The movie began. You tried to focus on it, truly, but it was hard with Soap’s arm now draped casually along the back of the couch, his body just close enough that you felt the warmth from his skin. The kind of warmth you’d imagined leaning into a hundred times but never dared to.

You chuckled under your breath as Christian Grey whispered some line about not doing romance.

“What?” Soap asked.

You shook your head, smiling into your mug. “Nothing. Just… people like to pretend they’re complicated when they’re just scared.”

The line lingered in the room longer than you expected. Soap turned toward you fully now, his expression unreadable.

“Is that how you see me?” he asked quietly.

Your mouth opened, then closed. “I was talking about the movie.”

“Sure,” he said, voice tight. “But is it true?”

The screen flickered in front of you, sound forgotten. It was raining harder now. You looked at him—really looked at him. At the Soap who always showed up. Who always cared just a little more than he admitted. Who never saw the way your heart reached for him quietly, every single day.

“I think…” you started slowly, “that you show love better than any movie ever could.”

His face changed then—softened, cracked open. He reached over, took the mug from your hands, and placed it gently on the coffee table. His hand brushed yours. Then lingered. And suddenly his fingers were laced with yours like they had belonged there the whole time.

“I thought you needed to be shown what love looks like,” he whispered.

“And you did,” you replied.

Soap’s fingers tightened slightly around yours, his eyes drifting from your lips back to your eyes—as if asking for permission without saying a word.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to.

You leaned in, slowly, heart pounding. When your lips finally met, it wasn't soft —it was warm and deep, a kiss soaked in all the nights of quiet longing and playful denial. His hand slid gently behind your neck, pulling you closer like he’d been waiting years for this moment, and maybe… he had.

The kiss lingered, the rain painting rhythm against the windows. His breath tickled your skin as he whispered against your mouth, “Still think you don’t know what love feels like?”

You smiled, brushing your nose against his. “I think I just figured it out.”

Soap chuckled softly, his forehead resting against yours. “Good. Because I’m not letting go now.” He turned his gaze to the Tv.

“Movie’s over,” he murmured, voice a low rasp that sent a shiver skimming down your spine. “I think i'll have you as the sequel Bonnie"

His fingers traced your jaw, slow and sure, before tilting your face toward his. The kiss that followed wasn’t asking questions—it was claiming answers. His lips moved against yours with heat and hunger, deepening into something that spoke of months of want, barely held back. His hand slid into your hair, the other splayed across the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

You gasped softly into his mouth, and he took that sound like a challenge, kissing you deeper, slower, letting it smolder.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said between breaths, voice thick and hoarse.

“I think I do,” you whispered, eyes locked with his. “Because I’ve been waiting just as long.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt—then under it—feeling the warmth of his skin as your touch traced the line of muscle along his side. Every breath between you turned heavier, every movement with more want.

Outside, the rain had stopped—but inside, thunder still crackled in the air between your bodies. And when Soap kissed you again, it was no longer soft. It was promise, possession, and something that had been building too long to be gentle much longer.

( sorry, to leave you like this, i don't know how to write smut or I would T-T )

[waywardsunlight]

When Belos killed Luz, he wasn't ORIGINALLY aiming for her, but he attempted to kill her the day before and I think his reaction is NOT that Luz got killed. I think his kinda. huh. is about the fact that Luz would throw herself in the way of the Collector getting killed after everything they did to her. Because Belos doesn't forgive people. That's been a major part of his character from the beginning. Hunter even says he "isn't a merciful man". He waits for a minute bc he's processing that Luz would throw herself in his line of fire for somebody she barely knows who did bad things to her.

Like he couldn't forgive Caleb for vaguely embarrassing him ( by being bisexual and slutty /j) so bad that he tracked Caleb down and got into a fight with him and then murdered him and Caleb is SUPPOSEDLY his best friend of all time ever and the best person in his whole life who he tragically lost etc. So. yeah I think he just doesn't understand why Luz would do that.

[seiwas]

for writing game, iwaizumi + assistance <3

hope this sparks some inspo and thank you in advancee

hi there!! thanks for sending in a prompt 🫶

contains: friends to lovers (ish), halloween parties, reader is dressed as catwoman, expletives, iwaizumi is thiiiiis 🤏 close to murdering seijoh4 (jk)

iwaizumi + assistance

this is a set-up.

iwaizumi knows he shouldn't have fucking believed anything the boys "promised" him back when they assigned him this costume.

the suit is fucking tight, spandex digging into his groins and all other crevices that definitely should be aired out after after a few hours. he's had to constantly readjust his stance almost every few minutes, the black fabric compressing his thighs and torso, significantly constricting the range of motion his shoulders and arms are typically used to. if anything else, it could double up as a back brace from how rigidly straight it's kept his posture all night.

he'll give it to makki though; he did outdo himself sourcing this year's costumes―this batman set looks pretty damn legit.

except for one tiny problem.

there's no fucking pee hole. it's a zip-up, zip-down one-piece situation. and that normally wouldn't be a problem, except that oikawa "accidentally" knocked over a cocktail straight into his pants, the sickeningly sweet liquid now seeping straight into the fabric and past his boxers―cold and sticky as it touches his skin.

and so, the problem: his pants are wet, it makes him want to fucking pee, and coincidentally, the only vacant bathroom is across the hall, at your apartment.

this is why he believes this is a set up. that, and the fact that you're dressed in an outfit strikingly similar―just with cat ears.

he's been asked five times in this party if you're in matching couple outfits.

it catches him off guard, flusters him because of how badly he wants to say yes. but, you're just friends, and he doesn't even think you like him that way (despite mattsun and oikawa practically begging him to confess. makki tells him he thinks you're going to do it first).

so he politely smiles and says no, but you look good, your costume clinging to you in all the right places. thank fucking god he has a cape because he's pretty sure he spent the first 30 minutes in the party hiding his boner.

"hajime, it's fine, i swear," you stand beside him in front of the conveniently locked bathroom in oikawa's apartment. from the other side of the door, he's pretty sure he hears mattsun and his girlfriend mumbling. maybe fucking? who knows. "you can just use the bathroom in my apartment."

he glances at you before closing his eyes, contemplating, before finally agreeing to you.

"okay."

if he's being honest with himself, friends is definitely an incomplete label to what you are. as oikawa's neighbor, you are conveniently around all the time; and oikawa being oikawa, the ever-social butterfly, he's somehow managed to carve a space for you in the friend group.

(never mind the fact that oikawa's sniffed him out from the moment he first introduced you.)

you were a crush, then a friend, and now you're someone he picks up from work and drives back home three times a week, because he "has to train oikawa." you don't question it, even when you both know he stays over for dinner way past the gym's open hours.

"you know where it is," you open your apartment and urge him in.

"sorry again," he turns to face you.

"yeah, yeah, just pee!" you laugh, shoving him towards the bathroom door.

getting out of the suit is manageable, and he's able to wipe off a bit of the cocktail that's leaked to the suit and his boxers just to make sure it isn't gross and sticky when he gets home later. peeing is a big relief once he gets it over with, but it's when he has to suit up again that things become difficult.

stretching out the spandex one body part at a time is a workout in itself―the hardest task being when he has to pull it over his shoulders, adjusting it to fit properly over his arms and chest.

but then the zipper breaks.

and he truly thinks makki has fucked him over.

iwaizumi contemplates what to do next for a good, good while. he tries calling oikawa, only to no success every time; no way in hell is he calling mattsun in the middle of having sex. and calling makki isn't even an option; he'd never hear the end of it.

then you knock on the door, your voice soft and concerned as you ask, "hajime? you good in there?" you hit it spot on, too, "do you need help with your suit?"

iwaizumi presses his palms to his eyes. he's a rational man, straightforward and logical in thinking. there is literally no other option for him right now but to ask help from you. again.

fuck.

.

it's 30 minutes later when oikawa barges in your door, and the sight that greets him is iwaizumi in nothing but a hoodie (the hoodie you borrowed some time ago) and his boxers, with his hands on your waist as you hover your hairdryer over the crotch of his batman costume―cat headpiece off and all.

"you finally got together?!"

[garfpsycho100]

i didnt really wanna draw today but then i was gifted with a blessed vision of julia as a fish transforming into The Scary Salmon when angered… so then i decided to draw the whole drawfee crew as weird little mascot creaturas.

also i know the drawfee community is sweet but PLS BE NICE I NEVER DRAW IN THIS STYLE AND I HADNT EVEN WARMED UP.

[fayzart136]

Hello! I’m absolutely enraptured by your mechanisms designs and all the details and thought that goes into each one.

Since the references were written directly on the images for the HNOC and UDAD characters, I could see it all, it was really comprehensive and I had a really fun time reading through it.

Unfortunately in the case of the OUATIS and TBI designs, that info was placed under a cut on the original posts , and because your old blog was deleted I don’t see a way to open the Read More ://

If there’s any way you might have any of it saved I’d be thrilled to see what details I’ve missed in how you decided to draw them :)

Thanks so much!

Aw thank you for sending me this ask! I cannot open the readmore either, but I do remember my thought proces! I will recreate the details to the best of my ability. For legibility and not making this a super-long post, I'll put them in the alt text. I'll also put my other Mechs lineups in here, I like having all of them in one post.

[anemonet]

hey rememberthe reverse iterators au. are you ever going to post about that again because i think it was pretty cool!

pebbles when he didnt even get to try

[More of my reverse iterator au if anyone is wondering what is going on!]

[ganondoodle]

Sorry ab the shitty English translations/localizations, it's bc they think that Americans won't get it otherwise (bc when we act stupid, we act REALLY stupid), our bad 💀

[cinnabar-circus]

2023 | 99

[trans-yllz]

mewtchuals and followers alike do yall collect anything 🤔

[faaun]

the way that diff languages sound r so fascinating they're all different and all so vivid

[hananono]

if i say that claw and the body improvement club are thematic opposites that makes sense to other people right

[flingza-roller]

woah ok ive been seeing an insane amount of hate for side order so yknow what fuck you. this blog is a safe space i love octo expansion and i also love side order im having a very good time with this game. set urself free, release expectations, embrace fun