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jungkoode · 2 months ago

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5 SECONDS TO FREEDOM | prologue

˗ˏˋ debts unpaid ˎˊ˗

"In Tokyo's underground, there are only two currencies that matter—respect and reputation. When someone threatens to take both, you don't just race them. You destroy them."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 3.5k

content: street racing culture, debt collection, first meetings, midnight races, dangerous driving, Spanish endearments as provocation, the dynamics of Tokyo's underground scene, and your first defeat in nineteen months.

✧ author's note ✧

Soooo here we fucking go.

I've been obsessing over this story for months—I think we all know that lmaooo I think I posted the teaser like a couple months ago and I was devastated because it barely got 50 notes. But you know what, this was still in my head so I did write some drabbles—and I kind of shaped the prologue, which is what you’re gonna read below hahaha.

“But Kiki we just sent you 45 asks telling you to rest” AND I SAID SIKE??? No actually, I’m okay I promise! Usually writing different stories is what prevents me from burning out, because I get frustrated with the same storyline so it’s like… I write something else and my brain goes ‘yay thanks’. You know, ADHD—shiny new toy, mind dances to the music.

Anyways, so. I love this. I love this because as always I get to experiment with different personalities and psychological backgrounds and what I fucking love about these two is the masks they wear and how opposite they are. He’s cocky and arrogant, but in a different way FMU!jungkook is. She’s determined and ambitious, always pushing for more, but still very distinct from all my other Y/N’s because she’s handling different situations (you’ll see in later chapters).

And Hachiroku and Jaque aren't just racing personas—they're escapes. And what makes this delicious is that they're running from opposite lives. One from privilege, one from struggle. Both finding freedom in the same five seconds at the starting line.

And yes, the cars matter. They're not just vehicles; they're extensions of identity. The AE86 is legendary for a reason—not the most powerful, but perfectly balanced in the hands of someone who knows exactly what they're doing (sound familiar?). Meanwhile, the R34 Skyline is raw, unapologetic power held in check by someone who understands precisely when to unleash it.

AS ALWAYS—READ THE AUTHOR INTRO AND TW listed in the index post. This is a must before reading this story.

Fair warning: this isn't going to be a clean race. These characters are messy. They make decisions that will make you want to scream at them. They'll crash into each other's lives and leave debris everywhere, and the kind of attraction that feels like a guardrail giving way on a mountain pass.

But that's the point, isn't it? The most interesting stories happen in the dangerous curves.

So buckle up. We've got a long road ahead.

Ready? Light’s about to turn green.

Also. Notes for this one are pretty high, that’s intentional. Like I just wanted to post the prologue to have it out for a bit but I still need to work on the arcs and major plot points. So I don’t have the story fully shaped out for now, which is why I want this to rest and check for engagement and reactions. Seriously—don’t crash out, I know this one will take time and that’s absolutely my intention!

Edit: prologue takes place 6 months before the main storyline!

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Respect isn't given in Tokyo's underground—it's paid in cash or blood.

You roll the cherry lollipop against your teeth, counting seconds in your head like engine timing.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours since you left Kalo and his overpriced Supra in your rearview on the Hakone downhill, his taillights disappearing around the corner while you took the perfect line through the hairpin that everyone else brakes too hard for.

It's nighttime at Daikoku.

You cross one leg over the other, letting your heeled boot dangle casually off the edge of your AE86's hood. The mini skirt wasn't a random choice. Neither was showing up without your racing gear.

Because tonight isn't about driving—it's about collecting.

"Kalo's nowhere to be seen," Maya says, leaning against your car's hood, arms crossed. "Dipped hard."

You don't bother looking at her, just shift the lollipop to the other side of your mouth with your tongue. The neon from nearby signs reflects off the polished black and white paint of your 86.

"What?" Maya catches your expression. "I'm just saying. Word is he's been avoiding this spot since you embarrassed him."

"While still flashing cash at that club in Roppongi," you add, voice flat. "Buying drinks for anyone who'll listen to his bullshit version of what happened on the mountain."

You tug at one of the layered chains around your neck, watching the crowd that's gathered tonight.

The usual suspects are here—wannabes with more money than skill taking photos of each other's cars, veterans huddled around hoods talking suspension setups, scouts looking for the next race.

Everyone except the one person who should be here with your money.

"So what's the plan?" Maya nudges your shoulder. "Just gonna sit here looking pretty until he magically appears?"

You roll your eyes. "Since when do I just sit and wait for anything?"

"Fair point." She grins that wolfish grin of hers. "So?"

"So I track his ass down." You twist the lollipop stick between your fingers. "He owes me fifty thousand yen. But more than that, he owes me the respect of paying up and admitting I smoked him fair and square."

Maya snorts, exactly as you expected. "Called it. Knew you wouldn't let this slide."

"It's not about the money." You straighten up, adjusting your cropped leather jacket. "It's about the principle. You lose a race, you pay your debts. That's how this works. You don't just disappear like some amateur who can't handle defeat."

"Especially not when he talked all that shit beforehand," Maya adds, picking at her black nail polish. "What was it he said again? Something about how no girl could ever handle his—"

"'No girl could handle my power on the downhill,'" you quote dryly. "Right before I passed him on the outside of that corner everyone brakes for."

The memory brings a slight smile to your face.

The shock in his eyes when you appeared in his side mirror where no car should have been able to fit.

The desperate overcorrection that sent him nearly scraping the guardrail while you smoothly accelerated away.

"Exactly." Maya pushes off your hood. "So what's the first move? Hit his usual spots?"

You pull the lollipop from your mouth with a pop. "Already did. Club Seventh in Roppongi. The garage where his uncle works in Setagaya. That ramen shop he's always at in Shibuya."

"Stalker much?" Maya raises an eyebrow.

"Thorough," you correct her. "There's a difference."

A brief silence falls between you as you both watch a metallic blue GT-R roll into the lot, bass thumping hard enough to vibrate the pavement.

Not Kalo's crowd—these guys run with the Yokohama crew.

"Kenji might know," you say finally, referring to your mutual friend who somehow knows everyone's business in Tokyo's racing scene. "He mentioned Kalo's been hanging around some new spot in Meguro the past week."

Maya pulls out her phone. "Want me to text him now?"

"Already did." You tap your boot against the bumper of your car. "He's supposed to meet us here in—" you check the time on your wrist "—fifteen minutes ago."

"Typical." Maya rolls her eyes. "That guy couldn't be on time if his life depended on it."

You're about to respond when you spot a familiar face weaving through the crowd. Kenji, with his signature sunglasses despite it being well past midnight, making his way toward you.

You straighten up slightly, not wanting to appear too eager for information.

"Ladies," he greets with that irritating smirk of his, adjusting his sunglasses even though there's absolutely no need. "Looking dangerous tonight, Y/N. Someone's not here to race."

"Just tell me what you know about Kalo," you say, cutting through his bullshit.

Kenji leans against your car without asking—a liberty you allow only because he's useful.

"Direct as always. That's what I like about you."

"Kenji," you warn, patience already wearing thin.

"Fine, fine." He holds up his hands in surrender. "Your boy's been hanging at this new garage in Meguro. Place called Midnight Rush. Trying to get in with that crew that runs the Wangan on weekends."

You raise an eyebrow. "The twins' territory? That's desperate even for him."

"After what you did to his reputation?" Kenji shrugs. "Man's gotta find somewhere to start over."

Maya laughs. "Not how this works. You don't just reset when you lose."

"Exactly." You shift your weight, boot heels clicking against the pavement. "So he's there tonight?"

"Should be. They're prepping for some big run tomorrow. Word is there's serious money changing hands. He's trying to buy his way in."

The conversation halts as the distinctive growl of an approaching engine cuts through the night.

Not just any engine—something with a tune you've never heard before.

Sharp. Aggressive. Perfectly balanced.

Heads turn as a midnight purple Skyline R34 GT-R glides into the parking area, before coming to a stop under the harsh parking lot lights.

"Who the hell is that?" Maya straightens up, suddenly alert.

Kenji's expression shifts from boredom to interest in an instant—a rare change for him. "New player. Goes by Jaque."

You study the car, assessing rather than admiring.

Aftermarket body kit, but tasteful. Custom wheels. The stance is aggressive but functional.

Whoever built this wasn't just throwing money at it—they knew exactly what they were doing.

"Jaque?" you repeat, keeping your voice neutral despite your curiosity. "What kind of name is that?"

"Latino guy. Showed up about a month ago." Kenji lowers his voice, shifting into the gossip mode he lives for. "Been cleaning up. Undefeated so far."

Your eyebrow rises slightly at that.

Undefeated is a bold claim in this scene.

"Never heard of him," Maya says, voicing what you're thinking.

"That's because he's been running mostly on the Wangan line. Outrunning cops, taking stupid risks. The kind of shit that gets you noticed fast." Kenji's eyes remain fixed on the car. "Word is he beat Hayato's record on the C1 loop last week."

That gets your attention, though you're careful not to show it.

Hayato's record has stood for three years.

This guy has broken it in a month.

Who the fuck is this?

Your question is answered when the driver's door opens, and the crowd's murmur intensifies. A figure emerges, oozing the confidence of someone who knows they belong anywhere they choose to be.

Not tall, but with a presence that fills the space around him. Dark hair, sharp jawline, and a smirk that suggests he's already three steps ahead of everyone else.

"He drives like he's got nothing to lose," Kenji adds, a note of genuine respect in his voice that you rarely hear. "Like he doesn't care if he crashes or dies. It's... I don’t know man. Something else."

You watch as the driver—Jaque, apparently—leans back against his Skyline, surveying the crowd like he's taking inventory.

His gaze sweeps across the parking lot, until it lands on your group.

Or more specifically, on you.

He gives you a small nod, as if acknowledging territory.

"Looks like you've got an admirer," Maya mutters, nudging your ribs.

You shrug, unimpressed. "Looks like another ego with a nice car."

But you don't look away, and neither does he. It's a standoff of sorts, neither willing to be the first to break eye contact.

You've played this game before with countless racers who thought they were hot shit.

You've never been the first to look away.

"Don't dismiss him so quickly," Kenji warns, surprising you. "I've seen him drive. I’m dead serious, it’s not normal."

"Nobody's unbeatable," you say, finally breaking the staring contest to look back at Kenji.

Just because you had to look back at Kenji.

"Maybe." Kenji shifts uncomfortably. "But this guy... he doesn't race like a normal person. It's like he's got some kind of death wish, but with the skill to back it up."

You scoff, though something about Kenji's tone—the genuine concern beneath his usual bullshit—gives you pause.

"Death wish or not, a car's a car, and physics is physics. There are rules to this game that nobody breaks."

Maya's watching you with that knowing look she gets when she can tell someone's gotten under your skin, even just a little.

"You want to find out, don't you?"

"I want to find Kalo and get my money," you correct her, though your eyes drift back to the Skyline against your will. "That's why we're here."

You scoff at Maya's knowing smirk, about to tell her to shut it when fragments of conversation float over from where the newcomer stands. One word cuts through the ambient noise of engines and chatter.

Kalo.

Your head snaps toward the source.

The Skyline guy—Jaque—leans against his car, talking to a small circle of racers. His hands move expressively as he speaks, gold bracelet catching the neon light.

"Kenji." You cut him off mid-sentence. "Who exactly is this guy talking to?"

Kenji follows your gaze. "Nobody important. Some Yokohama kids trying to get noticed." He adjusts those stupid sunglasses. "Why?"

"He just mentioned Kalo."

Maya straightens beside you. "You sure?"

No mistaking it. Not when you've been hunting that name for two weeks.

"Excuse me," you say, already moving.

Maya sighs behind you. "Here she goes again."

You don't look back. Your boots click purposefully across the pavement, moving slowly. Not rushing—you never rush. But determined.

Three guys surrounding Jaque glance up as you approach, their expressions shifting from interest to wariness. They know who you are.

He doesn't turn immediately. Keeps talking, voice carrying a rhythm unlike anything you've heard in Tokyo. An accent that doesn't belong here.

Only when you're close enough to count the stitches on his leather jacket does he acknowledge your presence.

And even then, it's just a partial turn. Forty-five degrees. Neck cradling slightly to look at you sideways.

Performative, if anything. Like he knew you were coming before you did.

You cross your arms, weight shifting to one hip. His mouth twitches upward at the corner, eyes traveling from your face down to your boots and back up again.

Not subtle about it at all.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this sight?" Velvet slides from his lips.

One eyebrow quirks upward, the slightest movement. His Japanese is fluent but different—consonants softened, vowels stretched in places they shouldn't be.

You narrow your eyes. "You mentioned Kalo. What do you know about him? What's your relationship?"

He studies you for two full seconds. Not answering. Just looking. Like he's trying to read something written in small print.

Then he chuckles, using two fingers to move a thin strand of dark hair that's fallen across his view. The movement is unnecessary. Theatrical. Done for effect.

"Why so serious, princesa?"

It’s Spanish, the last word. You know that much, know from the way the word rolls off his tongue, deliberate, inserted where it doesn't belong. Like he’s testing boundaries, hoping for a reaction.

"I asked you a question." You keep your voice unimpressed.

"And I asked you one too."

He turns to face you fully now, leaning back against his car with the casualness of someone who's never been afraid of anything.

"But since you came all this way... Kalo. The Supra guy, right? The one who races like he learned driving from a video game?"

The description is so accurate you almost smile.

Almost.

"I hear he owes someone money," he continues, watching your reaction carefully. "Someone who smoked him on the mountain course two weeks back. Embarrassed him so badly he's been hiding like a scared rabbit."

His three companions take subtle steps backward, no longer interested in being part of this conversation.

Smart.

Maya appears beside you, silent backup. Though her presence changes nothing in his demeanor.

"And how would you know about that?" you ask.

He shrugs one shoulder.

"People talk. I listen." His accent thickens when he adds, "Es lo que hago." (It’s what I do)

"Is that right?" You don't react to the Spanish. "Interesting that someone who just showed up knows so much about other people's business."

"I'm observant."

His eyes lock with yours.

"For example, I observe that you're not here to race tonight. That outfit? Those heels?" He clicks his tongue. "You're here to collect. To make a point."

Something cold slides down your spine. Not fear—you don't do fear. Something else.

Being read so easily isn't a sensation you're familiar with.

"What's your name again?" You ask it like you've already forgotten, though you haven't.

"Jaque." He says it with a slight emphasis on the second syllable. "And you're Y/N. The 86 driver who hasn't lost a mountain race in what, two years?"

"Nineteen months," Maya corrects automatically.

You shoot her a look.

Jaque's smile widens. "Nineteen months. Impressive."

"If you're done wasting my time," you say, turning slightly, "I have a debt to collect."

"From a guy who isn't here."

He pushes off his car, closing the distance between you by half a step. Not enough to be threatening. Just enough to make his presence unavoidable.

"And won't be. Not tonight," he adds.

"And you know that how?"

"Because I passed him on the expressway heading in the opposite direction. About twenty minutes ago." He taps his wrist where a watch would be. "Running scared, looked like."

You clench your jaw. If he's telling the truth, you've wasted your night. Another dead end in your hunt for the coward who owes you.

"So you just happened to recognize a stranger's car?" Maya asks, skepticism heavy in her voice.

"A white Supra with that terrible aftermarket body kit and the Rising Sun decal on the hood?" He makes a dismissive gesture. "Hard to miss. Hard to forget, unfortunately."

That description matches Kalo's car exactly; and the sick feeling in your stomach tells you he's not lying, as much as you'd like him to be.

"Well," you say, voice cooling by several degrees, "thanks for the information."

You turn to leave, disgusted at having your time wasted. First by Kalo's absence, now by this newcomer who clearly just wanted to get your attention. Another night, another waste.

"I'll pay you double what he owes you."

The words stop you mid-step.

You turn back slowly, measuring every movement.

"Excuse me?"

Jaque's expression hasn't changed, but something in his eyes has.

They’re gleaning.

"Fifty thousand yen, right? I'll make it a hundred." He says casually, like offering to buy a coffee. "If you beat me."

Maya makes a small sound beside you, something between a scoff and a laugh.

"And why would I race someone I don't know for money I don't need?"

You almost laugh. As if this is about the money. You were born into more yen than he’s ever seen—this is about respect. About principle. About owning your loss when someone beats you clean. No excuses. No saving face. Just bow your head and pay what you owe.

But he’s not done.

"Because you're curious." He says it like it's obvious. "Because you've been the best for nineteen months and you're bored. Because you want to know if I'm as good as they say."

"As good as who says?" You roll your eyes. "I've never heard of you before tonight."

"Then I must be doing something right." His smile shifts, becomes syrupy. "But if money doesn't motivate you, how about this—I win, I get to run with your crew. Race in your territory."

You can't help it—you laugh. Short and dismissive.

"That's not how this works. You don't just buy your way in." Your eyes flick to his car. "No matter how pretty your GT-R is."

"I'm not buying," he corrects, that accent slipping into his Japanese again. "I'm earning. Difference."

You narrow your eyes.

Maya leans close to your ear. "You're not seriously considering this?"

You should walk away. This guy is nobody. A newcomer with a nice car and too much confidence. The racing scene sees them every month. They come, they crash, they disappear.

But.

Something about the way he stands there, utterly certain of himself, gets under your skin.

Like he already knows your answer before you do.

And maybe it's the wasted night. Maybe it's two weeks of hunting Kalo with nothing to show for it. Maybe it's just the need to put someone in their place.

"One race," you hear yourself say.

Maya's head whips toward you in surprise.

"One race," you continue, "and when I win, you pay double what Kalo owes me, and you don't bother me again."

"And when I win," he counters, not missing a beat, "I race with your crew. Simple."

"If," you correct.

"When." He doesn't back down.

One calculated step closer brings his scent into focus. Leather, naturally, but beneath it something that doesn't compute. A scent that belongs to ryokan inns and meditation halls, not this arrogant foreigner.

Hinoki.

"You're awfully confident for someone who knows nothing about me or how I drive."

"And you're awfully defensive for someone who's supposedly unbeatable." His voice drops lower, meant for your ears only. "What are you afraid of, princesa?"

The Spanish word again. A barb. Challenging.

"Afraid?" You match his tone. "I'm trying to save you the embarrassment. And the money."

He laughs, so genuine that it catches you off guard. "So it's settled then. You and me. Tonight."

From the corner of your eye, you see Kenji approaching, drawn by the developing scene. Others are watching too.

Word travels fast in this world.

"Fine." You extend your hand, a formality in this world of verbal contracts. "My terms. My course."

He takes your hand. His grip is firm but not aggressive. Just right. His palm warm against yours.

"Your course," he agrees. "But I pick when."

You raise an eyebrow. "When, then?"

His smile widens, showing teeth. "Now."

Death has a rhythm.

Tonight, it sounds like Daddy Yankee.

The mountain is yours—every curve, every shadow, every inch of guardrail. You've memorized each crack in the asphalt like the lines on your palm.

Yet as you sit at the starting line, engine purring, the midnight purple Skyline beside you blasts "Gasolina" loud enough to vibrate your windows.

He's not even looking at the road.

Jaque's got hand on the wheel, the other tapping the window frame in rhythm.

Kenji stands between the cars, arms raised.

You grip your steering wheel tighter.

Focus. Calculate. This is your mountain. Your rules.

"Ready!" Kenji shouts.

You check your gauges, settle into position, drop your breath rate. Your 86 is an extension of your body.

"Set!"

Jaque turns to you—actually turns his head away from the road—and winks.

Winks.

What the fuck is his problem?

Your jaw clenches so hard you hear teeth grinding.

"GO!"

You snap into the first gear immediately, launching forward as your tires bite into asphalt. Perfect traction. Perfect release. Your 86 shoots ahead exactly as calculated, exactly as it always does.

The Skyline stays even.

First corner approaches—tight right-hander with a nasty camber that catches amateurs by surprise. You brake at the perfect moment, downshift, feel the weight transfer as you clip the apex.

Textbook. Flawless. The corner you've taken hundreds of times.

The Skyline mirrors you exactly, staying in your blind spot. The bass from his music is still thumping through the night air.

Second corner. Third. Fourth. Each attack perfect, each line immaculate. And still, he's there. Not gaining, not falling behind. Just... present. Like a shadow you can't shake.

"What the hell is this guy playing at?" You mutter, taking the next hairpin with a controlled aggression that should give you an advantage.

Should.

Doesn't.

The Skyline follows, its midnight paint swallowing the moonlight instead of reflecting it. Through the next three corners, it continues—you lead, he follows, neither gaining ground.

Until the straightaway.

The road opens up, and you floor it. The 86 responds instantly, pushing you back into your seat. This is where your lighter weight should shine.

But the Skyline surges forward, twin-turbo engine unleashing a growl that slices the night.

He passes you.

Not aggressively. Not dangerously.

Just... efficiently.

Like it's the most natural thing in the world.

For the first time in nineteen months, you're staring at someone else's taillights.

"No fucking way."

You push harder, finding speed you rarely tap into. The gap closes slightly on the approach to the next corner—a sharp left with a cliff drop on the outside.

No guardrail. No room for error.

Normal people brake early here.

Jaque, as it turns out, is not normal people.

You don't brake until the last possible microsecond, throwing the 86 into the corner. The tires scream, traction at its absolute limit. You can feel them searching for grip, dancing on the edge of adhesion.

You exit the corner a car length behind him.

"Come on!" You slam the gearshift, pushing for more.

The next section is technical—five corners in quick succession. Your territory.

It's where precision matters more than power.

You close the gap. Corner by corner, inch by inch. Three more and you're on his bumper. Close enough to see his fingers still tapping against the frame slightly to the rhythm.

The next hairpin is your chance. The inside line is risky—there's barely enough room—but it's your mountain.

You know exactly how much space you need.

You dive for the gap.

For one beautiful moment, you're alongside him. Equal. Your front bumper inches past his door.

Then he does something impossible.

Instead of defending the line—instead of doing what any rational driver would do—Jaque throws his car into a drift so aggressive it sends the back end swinging wide, nearly touching the guardrail.

The move creates an arc that cuts you off, forces you to brake or crash.

You brake.

The maneuver costs him speed, should give you another chance to pass on exit.

But before you can capitalize, he's already accelerating out of the drift, the Skyline's all-wheel drive finding traction where none should exist.

"What the actual—"

The move was insane. Suicidal. The kind of thing that ends with twisted metal and sirens.

And he pulled it off like he was parallel parking.

For the final stretch—three corners and the last straightaway—you throw caution aside. Push beyond limits you usually respect. The 86 responds, giving everything it has.

It's not enough.

The Skyline crosses the finish line two car lengths ahead. You slam your palm against the steering wheel.

The taste of defeat is metallic in your mouth, foreign and despised.

You bring the 86 to a hard stop, tires protesting at the sudden deceleration.

The music still pounds from his car. That same goddamn song.

You throw open your door, adrenaline and anger propelling you forward. The cool mountain air hits your flushed face as you storm toward his car.

Because that last move? It wasn't just reckless—it was deadly. The kind of stunt that gets people killed on these mountains.

Words build in your throat. Sharp words. Words about respect for the mountain and death wishes and arrogance.

His door swings open as you approach. The music blasts louder without the barrier of glass and metal. He slides out with that same casual grace you saw when he called you princesa, when he winked before accelerating.

And something stops the words in your throat.

He shakes his head slightly, dark hair falling across his eyes before he pushes it back with one smooth motion. His other hand remains on the Skyline's roof, some golden ring catching the moonlight.

When he turns to face you, there's no triumph in his expression. No arrogance.

Just... satisfaction.

Like he's found something he's been looking for.

His eyes meet yours across the short distance. That smile appears again—not the cocky smirk from earlier, but something more genuine. Lips curved just slightly at the corners.

"Thanks for the adrenaline rush, mami," he says, voice carrying over the pounding beat of Daddy Yankee.

You've never hated Spanish music more in your life.

goal: 500 notes

taglist: @cannotalwaysbenight @taevescence @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @mikrokookiex @minniejim @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx @rpwprpwprpwprw @jkrailme @graydolan12

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xoxolaw · 23 days ago

Text

+ MUTUAL FRAUD

in which two teens fake being One Piece fans for each other, only to find out that they're terrible liars, and a little bit in love.

GO HYUN TAK X READER

fluff

The first time he saw her, she was standing outside Eunjang High’s gate, leaning against the brick wall, one leg propped up, lollipop tucked between her lips, earphones in as she scrolled through her phone—laughing every few seconds like the world existed only for her amusement.

It was like someone had hit pause on the world.

Everything dulled around her—except for the glow in his eyes.

Was this how love at first sight felt?

A fuzzy warmth in your chest?

A flutter in your stomach just by seeing someone exist?

“Gotak! Why’d you stop like that?” Baku’s voice slammed into him like a train, snapping Hyun Tak out of whatever daze he’d been drowning in.

He blinked. Jun Tae was already over there—talking to her. Si Eun nodded politely. Even Baku, with all his noise, was grinning wide.

But she—

She glanced up at the sound of his name.

“Coming!” Hyun Tak called, and when he jogged over with a sheepish smile tugging at his lips,

Her mouth parted slightly.

Just for a second, they looked at each other—just one second.

But it hit like a full minute of sun pouring through a window on a winter day.

She wasn't expecting much when Jun Tae texted her that morning.

"Swing by Eunjang, I'll return your book. Also, want you to meet the guys."

She hadn't planned much, she stopped by right after her school ended. A lazy lollipop to fight the summer heat and a playlist to kill time while she waited outside Eunjang High’s gate.

No big deal.

She’d meet a few boys, nod, smile politely, and go home.

That was the plan.

Until she looked up—and saw him.

Messy hair, broad shoulders, blue hoodie like he lived in it. He wasn’t doing anything special. Just standing a few feet away from Baku, blinking like someone had unplugged his brain.

But something about the way his eyes softened when he looked at her—like he wasn’t expecting to see the sun but got blinded anyway—

It made her pause.

She hadn’t even realized she stopped laughing at her phone until her mouth opened slightly, the lollipop practically falling out.

"Who... is that?"

He jogged over when Baku shouted something, hair bouncing slightly with each step.

And when he smiled—just a little, soft and almost shy—

Her heart did something very stupid.

It flipped.

Turned sideways.

Fluttered against her ribs like it was trying to climb out.

He looked at her just once. Just for a second.

And in that second, she felt it—

That dizzy, lightheaded, "oh no he's cute" moment that girls in dramas have before the intro song kicks in.

She quickly glanced away, forcing her lips to wrap back around the lollipop, willing her heartbeat to calm down.

She could play it cool. No big deal.

Just another boy.

She didn’t even know his name.

Didn’t even know if they’d talk.

But in that half-second of shared eye contact—

Her world tilted. Just a little.

And something inside her whispered:

“Please let him be the kind of boy who talks about things just to make you smile.”

---

“She’s from Kanghak High,” Jun Tae said later as they walked toward the usual chicken shop. “Old friend of mine. Y/N.”

Hyun Tak tried to play it cool. “Cool. Uh... cool name.”

His hands were in his hoodie pocket. He stared forward like he didn’t want to ask.

But he did.

Hyun Tak tried to focus on the conversation—on what everyone was saying, the usual banter and jokes. But the truth was, he wasn’t listening to the words.

He was listening to her.

To the way her voice rose when she laughed, light and unbothered. The way her hair shifted gently with the breeze, catching the sunlight in strands he wanted to memorize. The way her eyes occasionally flicked toward him—brief, accidental glances that somehow felt like punches to his chest.

He wasn’t sure what they were all talking about.

But he knew how many times she smiled.

And he knew exactly how it made him feel.

And in no time, he didn't even realise how he ended up sitting right across her at the chicken shop.

And she… didn’t realize how hard it would be to look anywhere else.

She pretended to scroll through the menu even though she wasn't really reading it. Every now and then, her eyes would flicker up—just for a second, just long enough to see him.

Hyun Tak sat with his arms on the table, hoodie sleeves pushed to his forearms, fingers tapping lightly against the wood like he was trying to match a rhythm only he could hear. He wasn’t saying much. Just smiling at whatever Baku or Jun Tae said. Nodding. Occasionally letting out a soft laugh that—

God. That laugh.

She almost dropped her chopsticks when she heard it for the first time. It was low, kind of boyish, and it curled around her chest like a secret.

He didn’t talk much, but when he did glance at her—like he just wanted to make sure she was still there, still listening—it sent a ripple down her spine.

It wasn’t anything dramatic. No slow-motion hair flips. No cheesy k-drama sparkles.

Just the quiet, magnetic pull of sitting across from someone who made the world feel a little softer, a little more focused.

Like background noise suddenly knew how to hum in tune.

She noticed how he always made sure the sauce was near her side. How he offered the last drumstick without a second thought. How he kept brushing his hair back, only for it to fall right back into his eyes—like the universe was determined to make him look adorable.

She sipped her soda to calm the nerves that wouldn’t stop dancing.

And when their eyes met again—brief, unplanned, warm—

She smiled, pretending it was casual.

But inside, her heart whispered quietly:

Please look at me like that again.

---

"Bye!" she called out, her voice bright and warm, a grin stretched wide across her face like she was genuinely happy to have met them.

It echoed in his ears.

Hyun Tak lifted his hand to wave along with the others, trying to hide the way his smile lingered a second too long.

And that’s when he saw it—

The keychain dangling off the side of her bag, bouncing lightly with every step she took away from them.

A small, round figure with a straw hat and a wide grin. The colors were a little faded, like it had been with her for a while.

One Piece.

His eyes narrowed just a bit, something shifting in his brain.

Jun Tae was always going on about it. Something about pirates and dreams and loyalty and power-ups. Hyun Tak never really cared for it—he barely watched cartoons, let alone anime—but now?

Now it was different.

Because she liked it.

Or at least… she had the keychain. That had to mean something, right?

He stared at the little pirate bouncing on her bag until she disappeared down the street.

And in his chest, something clicked into place.

A quiet, determined thought.

---

That night, he didn’t even notice how quickly time slipped away.

What started as a casual search—“One Piece characters explained”—spiraled into an accidental three-hour rabbit hole.

He watched clips with half-lidded eyes, brows furrowed in concentration. He paused every few seconds to read the comments, double-checked character names, skimmed through fan wikis, and tried to memorize just enough to sound natural.

Straw Hat Pirates. Devil fruits. Grand Line.

It all blurred into a mess of colors and quotes and names he could barely pronounce.

But every time he wanted to give up, he’d remember that little keychain bouncing off her bag, and the smile she gave when she said goodbye.

That smile alone made reading twenty paragraphs about a talking reindeer somehow worth it.

He wasn’t trying to become a fan.

He was just trying to find a way in.

A way to sit across from her again—this time with something to say.

---

He was mid-chokehold—arms wrapped around Baku’s neck in playful vengeance—as the four of them strolled out of Eunjang’s gates, the afternoon sun spilling gold over their shoulders.

Hyun Tak had barely slept.

He'd spent half the night drowning in One Piece lore—memorizing character arcs, googling “best quotes to casually drop,” and silently mouthing Luffy’s full name like it was an exam question.

Still, he hadn’t expected to need it so soon.

And then—

His eyes landed on her.

She stood by the sidewalk, that familiar lollipop tucked between her lips like punctuation. The breeze played with the ends of her hair, and just like yesterday—just like that first second—everything else dimmed around her.

His arms dropped from Baku’s shoulders.

Literally. Just let go.

Baku stumbled forward with a strangled cough. “Bro—what the hell—”

But Hyun Tak didn’t hear him.

She had looked up.

And she smiled again. That same smile from yesterday, a little lopsided like it didn’t try too hard—but still managed to knock the wind out of his lungs.

He stepped forward, adjusting his hoodie, trying not to trip over the nerves that gathered all at once in his chest.

“Yo,” she said, waving casually.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly.

It came out softer than he meant. Barely above a whisper. Like his voice had forgotten how to work the moment she looked at him again.

She tilted her head, amused. “Rough night?”

He blinked. “What?”

“You look like you fought your pillow and lost.”

He huffed a laugh—short, nervous, and undeniably fond. “Yeah, kinda.”

There was a silence, a little bit awkward until he decided to break it, "you've... um, you've got a cool keychain. Luffy."

Her eyes widened a fraction—surprised. She glanced down at the little pirate swinging by her bag, "uh, yeah."

"Who's your favourite character?" He asked out of nowhere. She took a break... A long one as she tried to process the rate at which her heart beat with every smile of his.

"Luffy." She answered, smiling a bit awkwardly but in his eyes, it was the sweetest smile.

And that was how it all started. She started showing up in front of Eunjang everyday, never missing a single one.

And it was only for one reason.

To see Hyun Tak.

And Hyun Tak started running to the gate as soon as the bell rang.

For only one reason.

To see her.

---

She really looked forward to these afternoons. Watching him run over, drop an One Piece reference like that's all he talks about. But she didn't mind. In fact, she loved it. Everytime he would say something.

“So, uh… you think Luffy’s Gear Fifth is overpowered or what?” he asked one day, leaning against the wall next to her, trying to sound casual despite the way his heart was doing backflips.

She popped the lollipop out of her mouth, raising an eyebrow. “Gear Fifth? Uh… yeah, it’s… pretty wild.”

He didn’t notice the slight hesitation in her voice, the way her eyes flicked to the side as she scrambled for a response. To him, she was just playing it cool, like she always did.

“Right? Like, the way he just—boom—turns everything into a cartoon? Insane.”

She nodded, biting back a grin. “Totally insane.”

She didn’t know what Gear Fifth was. Not really. She’d heard the term maybe once, from a friend who wouldn’t shut up about anime, but she hadn’t watched a single episode of One Piece in her life.

The keychain? A random gift from her Jun Tae, shoved onto her bag because it looked cute and she didn’t care enough to take it off.

But the way Hyun Tak’s eyes lit up when he talked about it—the way he leaned closer, voice buzzing with excitement, like he’d been waiting all day just to share this with her—made her want to keep up the act.

So she did.

She googled terms in secret between classes, watched fan-edits at 2 a.m. until her eyes burned, and forced herself to sit through five episodes straight without understanding why Zoro kept getting lost or why Sanji wouldn’t stop flirting. It was chaotic. Long. Overwhelming.

But when she would remember Hyun Tak's smile

—God, it was worth it.

---

“You really think Enies Lobby was the best arc?” he asked one afternoon, brows raised like he was quizzing her on a final.

She hesitated only for a second. “Yeah,” she said with forced conviction, “I mean—Robin’s ‘I want to live’ moment? Kinda iconic.”

His jaw dropped a little. “Right?! I cried.”

She blinked. “...You did?”

“Don’t tell the guys,” he added quickly, ears turning pink, “but yeah. Ugly cried.”

She smiled, warm and unbothered. “That makes two of us.”

It didn’t. She hadn’t even gotten to Enies Lobby yet. But she made a mental note to skip ahead that night, just to see the moment that cracked him open like that.

---

This went on for weeks. Quiet moments by the gate, post-school banter that was 60% anime and 40% stolen glances.

He brought her snacks sometimes—“Zoro’s favorite rice crackers,” he claimed. She pretended she knew what that meant. She once brought him a straw hat keyring and watched him go still for a second before blurting, “I’m gonna treasure this forever, just so you know.”

---

And the truth?

The truth was she hadn’t meant to fall this hard.

She only stopped by the gates that first day on a whim, half-curious, half-bored.

But now—

Now it was the best part of her day.

Seeing him wait for her.

Seeing him light up the second their eyes met.

---

But soon everything was catching up to her.

The references were getting harder to fake.

And the hesitation in her voice was growing.

She tried. God, she tried.

Every night she'd google summaries, skim episode breakdowns, and even bookmarked a list of “Top 20 One Piece Moments To Pretend You've Watched.” She memorized names, powers, even the stupid boat’s name. She didn’t get it—but she got him. The way he smiled when he talked about it. The way he looked at her like she was the only one who ever really listened.

And Hyun Tak?

Hyun Tak was drowning.

He had exhausted the “Best One Piece Quotes to Casually Drop” article by week two. Every night was a last-minute cram session—watching half-speed TikToks about arcs he didn't understand and squinting at spoiler-filled Reddit threads just so he wouldn’t mess up the timeline when she inevitably asked something he wasn’t prepared for.

He thought she was a superfan.

She thought he was a superfan.

And both of them were completely wrong.

---

One afternoon, they sat on a park bench, sharing a bag of chips he’d bought “Luffy would love these,” he’d joked. The conversation drifted to One Piece again, as it always did.

He was mid-ramble about the “Thriller Bark arc,” words tumbling out faster than he could think, when she went quiet. Too quiet.

“You okay?” he asked, pausing, chip halfway to his mouth. She twirled the lollipop stick, eyes on the ground.

“Yeah, just… thinking.” Her voice was softer than usual, and it made his stomach twist. Had he said something wrong? Was she bored?He tried to keep it light.

“What, you don’t think Thriller Bark’s the best? C’mon, that shadow-stealing thing was wild.”

She forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, super wild.” Her fingers brushed the Luffy keychain, and she bit her lip.

He noticed—how could he not?—and something in her hesitation made his chest tighten.“You sure you’re okay?” he pressed, leaning closer, his voice softer now.She met his eyes, and for a moment, they just looked at each other, the park fading to a hum. “I… yeah. It’s nothing,” she said, but her heart was screaming: Tell him. Just tell him.

---

The next afternoon, she was at the gate, but her usual lollipop was gone. She fidgeted with the Luffy keychain, her stomach in knots.

Hyun Tak jogged up, his smile as bright as ever, but she saw the way his hands fidgeted in his hoodie pocket, the way his eyes darted to hers and away.

“Hey,” he said, voice softer than usual. “No lollipop today?”

She laughed, but it was shaky. “Needed a break from sugar.” A lie. She just couldn’t focus on anything but the truth clawing at her. They walked to the chicken shop, the silence heavier than usual. He tried to fill it with a One Piece reference—“You think Usopp’s ever gonna confess to Kaya?”—but it felt forced, and her nod was half-hearted.

At the table, she pushed her fries around, heart pounding. He wasn’t eating either, his fingers tapping that nervous rhythm. Finally, she couldn’t take it.

“Hyun Tak,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “I need to tell you something.”He froze, eyes wide. “Yeah?”

She gripped the keychain, the faded Luffy staring back at her. “I don’t watch One Piece. This—” she held up the keychain, “—was just a gift from Jun Tae. I’ve been pretending to know it… because I wanted to keep talking to you.”

For a moment, he just stared, and her heart sank. Then his face broke into a grin, and he laughed—loud, relieved, that boyish laugh she loved. “Oh my God, are you serious?”

She blinked, confused. “You’re… not mad?”

“Mad?” He leaned forward, still laughing. “I’ve been faking it too! I saw your keychain and thought you were a superfan, so I’ve been staying up all night watching episodes I don’t even understand just to talk to you.”

Her jaw dropped. “You—what?”

“Yeah!” He ran a hand through his hair, cheeks red. “I’m, like, three arcs in and still clueless. I just… didn’t want you to think I was boring.”

She burst out laughing, the knot in her chest unraveling. “I’ve been googling ‘One Piece summaries’ in class! I thought you were the superfan!”

They laughed until their eyes watered, the chicken shop fading around them. When it died down, he looked at her, his smile softer. “So… we both suck at this, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said, grinning. “But… I kinda like that.”

“Me too.” He paused, then reached across the table, his hand brushing hers. “Wanna start over? No pirates. Just… you and me.”

Her heart did that stupid flip again, but this time, it felt right. “Yeah. I’d love that.”As they left the shop, the Luffy keychain swung on her bag, no longer a lie but a funny, cherished memory.

Months later, when they were holding hands at the arcade, Hyun Tak gave her a new keychain—a tiny blue hoodie, just like his. She clipped it next to Luffy, and every time they walked together, the two charms bounced side by side, a quiet reminder of the silly, perfect way they found each other.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE + MASTERLIST

I feel like this is the best I have written so far 😭 I love it!

TAGLIST

@keizvn @soobinbunnie5 @chaywkk @l5byrinth @inom17 @randomheyl @coffee-ii @mizxuqii @dna-black-and-blue @kyungjunnies @maxinehufflepuffprincess @deboizzzstay @coolasiangal123 @intoanothermind @satoru2716 @chenlegendj @changbinkisser

#weak hero class two #fanfic #weak hero x reader #gotak x reader #go hyuntak x reader #go hyuntak #one piece

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fushiguruuzzzz · 5 months ago

Text

THE HUNDRED DOLLAR LOVE AFFAIR

After picking up a job at the local pet shop, you learn very quickly that your coworker is a pest you can’t shake all that easily. When he grows to believe he could have you wrapped around his finger if he tried, he’s even bold enough to make a bet on it. Unfortunately, he won a long time ago.

TETSURO KUROO X F!READER

𐔌 . ⋮ CONTENTS ◞ smau hybrid, implied to take place in the summer after grad, friends to lovers, I’m not in college so likely inaccurate descriptions, miscommunication, probably somewhat ooc, (light?) angst, reader has parental issues, reader jumps to conclusions (she is me), they’re all just really stupid like I’m pissed off and I haven’t even written it yet, alcohol usage, crude humour, foul language, individual chapters have specific warnings, 🏷️ denotes written parts

MOODBOARD | PLAYLIST

𐔌 . ⋮ MEET THE EMPLOYEES <- [collective intros]

◞ YN LN :: fuzzy socks, late nights spent staring at the ceiling, Things to Do by Alex G, loving like a cat, humming lullabies to a loved one, a wardrobe filled with everyone’s clothes but your own, indirect displays of love, whispering “I love you” when you think they’re asleep, caramel, everything or nothing

◞ TETSURO KUROO :: messy hair, teasing, car rides, cheesy singing and using a hairbrush as a microphone, lying your head in your lovers lap, playful boasting, the sidewalk rule, looking for them in a crowd, sparing others emotions at the cost of your own, becoming a mentor to everyone you meet, determination

⌗ CHAPTER 00 | kitty cat

⤷ let’s take it back to the beginning…

⌗ CHAPTER 01 | kuroos out the window 🏷️

⤷ the new beginning… of the end?

⌗ CHAPTER 02 | son in law

⤷ he’s got a brain worth killing for, that’s for sure.

⌗ CHAPTER 03 | common beggar 🏷️

⤷ …or maybe not.

⌗ CHAPTER 04 | plotting

⤷ kuroo is a protein bar dealer..?

⌗ CHAPTER 05 | alternative strategies

⤷ tetsuro kuroo (23) 🌽⭐️

⌗ CHAPTER 06 | home depot

⤷ maybe he isn’t completely oblivious.

⌗ CHAPTER 07 | right side of the sidewalk 🏷️

⤷ get an umbrella and stop being in love. ew.

⌗ CHAPTER 08 | maurice

⤷ STOP RUNNING WITH SHARP OBJECTS ALL OF YOU

⌗ CHAPTER 09 | hips don’t lie

⤷ I thought your people skills were better than this?

⌗ CHAPTER 10 | kool kids club 🏷️

⤷ tw parental issues. ice cream, broken plates, and longing gazes.

⌗ CHAPTER 11 | beauty & the beast 🏷️ (<- barely)

⤷ PARTY HARDY

⌗ CHAPTER 12 | see you again

⤷ aftermath…

⌗ CHAPTER 13 |

⤷ tba

⌗ CHAPTER 14 |

⤷ tba

⌗ CHAPTER 15 |

⤷ tba

STATUS ◞ ongoing TAGLIST ◞ open :: 42/50

⤷ @adoresia @kawoala @sahrii @angeleilee (<- asked to be tagged. Extended taglist will not be tagged on the masterpost.)

General tags (only for mlist): @sh0ot1ngst4r @azinniyaa @kashee-h @fiannee @lizbix @aldebrana @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee

❝ Made up a game . No pain, no gain . Until you break . Make no mistake . I will pull it together . You can love me . Forever and ever ❞

a/n — FINALLY. been in the drafts since the Kilby girl masterlist was first posted and it’s been staring at me longingly ever since, i could feel it. I did project on this one a lot haha… haha… sorry

P.S. Posting schedule will be worked out in the future <3

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hoshifighting · 7 months ago

Note

ok... so i've seen your amazing college fling works for seungcheol, jeonghan, and joshua.... but what about one for hoshi 👉👈

ONCE AGAIN I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

WARNINGS: freshmen!hoshi, late night practices, burn-out, shyness, sunbae!reader, fluff, a lil bit of angst.

WC: 2.8k of this... judge me 🗣needed to divide this into parts...

part 1 / part 2

college fling!hoshi that you clocked that he was a freshman by the very moment he stepped into the dance practice room. it started with the smell, honestly. freshman reek—like nervous sweat and too much axe body spray, paired with the faintest whiff of fear. baggy-ass hoodie that practically swallowed his arms, hands shoved deep in his pockets like they’d get fined if they came out, sneakers so new they squeaked against the gym floor. he looked young. not in a bad way, just in that “i’m not used to being left unsupervised” way.

he stood in the doorway like he didn’t know what to do with himself. everyone else was stretching, pulling their limbs into shapes human joints probably weren’t meant for, and there he was, swaying on the balls of his feet like a kid waiting to ask if they could borrow a crayon.

“you lost?” you called out, not even looking up from where you were sitting, tying your shoelaces.

“huh? n-no, i’m, uh—this is intro to hip-hop?”

the way he said it like a question had you biting back a grin. “yeah, you’re in the right place. c’mon in before the instructor roasts your ass for lurking.”

he shuffled in, taking a spot in the back corner like he was hoping no one would notice him. “i'm invisible if i stand still enough”, he thinks. but of course, everyone noticed him. new kid energy was impossible to ignore, and to top it off, he had that awkwardly cute thing going on. messy bangs falling into his eyes, face pink like he was one awkward comment away from combusting. his eyes, wide and curious, darting around like he was mentally cataloging every single thing in the room.

“you got a name, freshman?” you asked, leaning back on your hands as you watched him.

he blinked, like he didn’t realize you were still talking to him. “oh, uh, hoshi. i mean, soonyoung. but people call me hoshi.”

“cool. you dance before, hoshi?”

“alright, new guy!” the prof clapped his hands, dragging everyone’s attention. “show us a little freestyle! don't be shy...”

college fling!hoshi who freezes mid-blink, still thinking about your question. clutching his backpack straps so hard you thought they might snap. he turned to you, wide-eyed and panicked, like you could save him from the impending doom.

“relax,” you whispered, stepping closer, your voice low enough that only he could hear. “you do this and sunbae’s buying you dinner. whatever you want. ramen, fried chicken, you name it.”

he blinked, like the concept of being spoiled by you was enough to short-circuit his brain, but there was something there. a spark. like maybe he didn’t wanna flop in front of you.

“okay,” he mumbled, and you gave him a grin that could probably power a small city.

“attaboy,” you said, patting his shoulder as you turned back to the class.

by the end of the first class, he’d loosened up a bit—mostly because the instructor made everyone run through improv drills, and there was no room for shyness when you were flailing around to some experimental old-school rap track. you caught him sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

college fling!hoshi who finally zipped up his backpack after what felt like an eternity, stood up, and immediately knocked over a water bottle with his foot. he muttered a quick, shy “sorry,” barely glancing at the offended plastic, and shuffled toward you. his shoulders were stiff, his hands gripping the straps of his backpack like they were the only things tethering him to this earth. you gave him a once-over, your phone in one hand, and a smirk playing at your lips. “you survived,” you said casually, and his grin was so tiny you almost missed it.

college fling!hoshi who started walking alongside you, a little too close like he didn’t know how to pace himself yet. every few steps, his elbow brushed yours, and he’d shift just enough to make it obvious he noticed. you didn’t say anything—just side-eyed him with a teasing smile that had his ears turning red.

college fling!hoshi who paused outside the building with you, his fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on his sleeve as he asked, “so, uh… what do you like to eat?” his voice was barely louder than the passing breeze. you raised an eyebrow at him, tucking your phone into your pocket. “you’re really gonna let me pick, huh?” he nodded, determined, even as he shuffled his feet. “you said you’d spoil me,” he countered, and for the first time, there was a flicker of sass in his tone. you liked it.

college fling!hoshi who almost tripped on his untied shoelace when you said you’d pick a place, his backpack slipping off one shoulder as he bent down to fix it. he was mumbling something about bad luck when you crouched beside him, yanking the lace from his hands and tying it with a quick knot. “you’re gonna kill yourself before dinner at this rate,” you said, and the way he stared at you—wide-eyed, lips parted—made it feel like you’d just handed him the keys to the kingdom.

college fling!hoshi who sat across from you at the tiny chicken shop, looking at the menu like it was a math test. “it’s just chicken, dude,” you teased, propping your chin in your hand. he fumbled with the laminated page, finally blurting, “but what if I pick something too spicy?” you laughed, shaking your head. “okay, rookie, let me help you out.” you ended up ordering for both of you, and when the dish came, his eyes lit up.

college fling!hoshi who distractly puts too much sauce on his chicken wing and doesn’t notice because he was too busy grinning at your stories. “wait, wait—so you fell during a performance?” he asked, the sauce at the corner of his mouth. you groaned, throwing a napkin at him. “it wasn’t just a fall, okay? it was a crash,” you admitted, and his laugh was so loud the couple at the next table glanced over. “stop making fun of me or I’ll make you pay,” you threatened, and his face instantly sobered. “wait, what?”

college fling!hoshi who insisted on paying despite your earlier threats. he pulled out his wallet like it was some grand declaration of independence, only to hesitate when he realized he didn’t have enough cash. “um…” he started, cheeks burning. you rolled your eyes and handed your card to the cashier before he could protest. “rookie rule number one,” you said smugly, “always check your wallet before acting like a big shot.” he muttered something about repaying you, and you just laughed, nudging him toward the door.

college fling!hoshi who got lost again on the way back to his dorm, despite the fact that he’d been living there for a week. “are you serious right now?” you asked, watching him squint at the campus map on his phone. he scratched the back of his head, mumbling, “it all kinda looks the same at night.” sighing, you grabbed his phone, pulled up the map yourself, and started walking. “come on, hoshi-ya you’re hopeless.”

college fling!hoshi who walked beside you, hands in his pockets, quietly humming a tune you didn’t recognize. “what’s that?” you asked, tilting your head toward him. his eyes widened like he’d been caught. “oh, uh, just something I made up,” he admittedquietly. you stopped in your tracks, turning to him with a grin. “wait, you write music?” he shrugged, suddenly bashful. “a little… it’s not a big deal.” you nudged him with your shoulder. “nah, that’s cool as hell. show me sometime?”

college fling!hoshi who hesitated outside his dorm door, hand hovering over the handle. “thanks for… you know, today,” he said, glancing at you shyly. “and dinner.” you smirked, crossing your arms. “you earned it, rookie. but next time, you’re paying.” his smile stretched wide, and for a moment, he just stood there, like he didn’t want to go in. finally, he nodded, fumbling with the key. “goodnight, sunbae,” he said softly, and you had to resist the urge to ruffle his hair as you turned to leave.

college fling!hoshi who always trails behind you, holding onto the strap of your backpack like a lost puppy. “you’re gonna rip it, you know,” you tell him, but he just grins and tightens his grip. “you’re my sunbae. gotta make sure I don’t lose you.” it’s so dumb and cheesy that you flick his forehead, but your chest feels warmer anyway.

college fling!hoshi who managed to charm his way into your friend group like he’d been there all along. one of your music department friends spotted him loitering outside your lecture hall and asked, “is that the guy you’ve been dragging around campus?” you rolled your eyes, but hoshi smiled like he’d just won an award. “that’s me!” he said proudly, and somehow by the end of the conversation, they were swapping playlist recommendations.

college fling!hoshi who shows up at your dorm one night with a bruised knee and a sheepish smile. “i tripped during practice,” he admits, wincing as you drag him inside. “tripped or collapsed?” you demand, pointing at the ice pack in his hands. he shrugs, trying to play it off, but you’re already crouched in front of him, scolding him as you press the ice to his knee. “you should stop, sunbae its worried about you.” you mutter, and when he mumbles, “i’ll be fine,” you glare at him until he mutters an apology instead.

college fling!hoshi who gets into his first real argument with you after you find him practicing in an empty studio way past midnight. “what the hell are you doing?” you snap, flipping on the lights to find him mid-spin, sweat dripping down his face. “just a bit more,” he protests, breathless. “i need to get this routine perfect.” but you’re not having it. “perfect doesn’t matter if you’re too dead to perform, hoshi!” he flinches, wide-eyed, but you don’t stop. “you can’t keep pushing yourself like this. stop before you break something.” he looks at you, frustrated, and finally, he slumps onto the floor, whispering, “sorry, sunbae.”

college fling!hoshi who randomly shows up with snacks between your classes. “figured you’d be hungry,” he says, handing you a convenience store bag. you peek inside—your favorite drink and a pack of cookies. “didn’t know you were trying to bribe me,” you tease, taking a bite. “is it working?” he asks, grinning, and when you give him a thumbs-up, he beams like a kid on christmas morning.

college fling!hoshi who ends up crashing at your dorm after a long night of studying. he’s sprawled on your bed, one arm thrown over his face, while you sit cross-legged on the floor, typing away at your laptop. “you’re gonna fail if you don’t actually read the material,” you say, glancing up. he groans, rolling onto his side. “then i’ll just ask you to tutor me again,” he says, smirking, and you chuck a pillow at his head.

college fling!hoshi who catches you off-guard one day by slipping his jacket over your shoulders during a chilly walk across campus. “you looked cold,” he says simply, his voice softer than usual. you pull the fabric tighter around you, the faint scent of him lingering on it, and when you glance at him, he’s pretending to be super interested in a tree. “thanks,” you say quietly, and he shrugs, his ears turning pink as he mutters, “anytime, sunbae.”

college fling!hoshi who came back one day to the practice room after a late practice, two cans of soda in hand, humming to himself. “sunbae, I got—” his voice cut off when he saw you slouched on the floor, one hand clutching your forehead. “y/n?” he rushed over, dropping the sodas with a dull clunk. crouching in front of you, his voice softened. “what’s wrong? are you okay?” you waved him off weakly. “just tired. it’s nothing.” but he didn’t buy it for a second.

college fling!hoshi who gently pried your hand away from your forehead, his fingers brushing against yours. “you’re burning up,” he said, his brow furrowing. “why didn’t you say anything?” you tried to sit up straighter, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “it’s fine, really. just pushed too hard today.” his expression tightened. “this isn’t fine, y/n. you shouldn’t have kept going if you felt like this.”

college fling!hoshi who helped you lean back against the mirror. “stay still, okay?” he murmured, crouching next to you. you gave him a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “you’re acting like I’m dying, hoshi.” he didn’t laugh, his lips pressing into a thin line. “don’t joke about that,” he said quietly, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of improvement.

college fling!hoshi who let you rest your head against his shoulder when you slumped forward again. “here, like this,” he said softly, adjusting so you were cradled in his arms. his hands were steady, one supporting your back and the other brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “just relax. you’re safe.” he started gently blowing on your face, the cool air soothing your heated skin. “better?” he whispered, his voice close enough to send a strange flutter through your chest.

college fling!hoshi who stayed with you until you could sit up on your own again, his arm still lingering behind your back just in case. “you scared me,” he admitted, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “i thought… what if something happened and I wasn’t here?” you blinked up at him, guilt bubbling in your stomach. “sorry,” you muttered. his hand found yours, squeezing it gently. “just don’t do it again, okay? i mean it, you always scold me for practicing too late...”

college fling!hoshi who refused to let you walk home by yourself, no matter how many times you insisted you were fine. “nope, not happening,” he said firmly, slipping your bag over his shoulder along with his own. “if you collapse halfway there, what am I supposed to do? carry you like a princess?” you snorted, but the teasing tone in his voice couldn’t hide the worry in his eyes.

“you know, I could really get used to you carrying me around,” you said, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. he raised an eyebrow, glancing at you. “oh, really?” he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “yeah,” you said, deadpan, “I mean, who wouldn’t want a cute guy carrying them everywhere?”

college fling!hoshi who, despite the teasing tone in your voice, caught that little glint in your eye. “alright, then,” he said, voice suddenly serious, as he paused in front of you. “come here.” without waiting for a response, he slid his arms under your knees and around your back. you yelped in surprise, but before you could protest, he had you lifted off the ground like you were weightless. “you wanted it, right?” he said with a grin, carrying you like it was nothing. “not a word out of you until we get to your dorm.”

“you’re a natural at this,” you teased, your chin resting on his shoulder as you looked up at him. “yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep you from passing out on me,” he muttered, but his cheeks were flushed, and his hands felt like they were holding you just a bit too tightly. “this isn’t bad,” you added with a smirk, “maybe I’ll start making demands. like, no more walking for me from now on.”

he blushed at your joke but didn’t miss a beat. “you sure about that?” he asked, glancing down at you with a sly smile. you nodded, playing along. “definitely. I’m a princess now. I’ll need snacks, water, a blanket... and don’t forget the back rubs.” hoshi shook his head, clearly trying to hide his amusement. “I’m pretty sure you’re taking this way too far, but okay,” he said, adjusting his grip on you. “I can do all that...”

“deal. but only if you don’t drop me halfway there,” you teased. hoshi’s grip tightened, his voice lowering a little. “I’ll never drop you, sunbae.”

college fling!hoshi who made it to your dorm room, still carrying you as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “I should’ve known you’d enjoy this,” he said, shaking his head as he set you down on your bed. “enjoy what?” you asked innocently, grinning up at him. “this whole ‘being carried around’ thing,” he said, still laughing a little. you shrugged dramatically.

college fling!hoshi who would come up to you after class, always fussing over you—was your shoulder okay? did you stretch enough? how was your lunch? you’d always brush it off, sulking a little at the way he took care of you like it was his full-time job.

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kdh-tally · 5 days ago

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Kpop Demon Hunters AU!

Prompt : 10 Minutes of Rumi and Jinu parenting Baby and Zoey.

Authors Note : I honestly feel like (after the whole Gwi-ma thing) Zoey and Baby would most definitely become good friends/partners in crime. I can't think of what their (platonic imo) ship name would be though

PS : As a fandom, what are we calling the groups fandoms?

[“WELCOME TO : Zoey and Baby being Rumi and Jinu’s children for 10 minutes straight 💥”] [Intro Music : “Impurities” by FEARNOT plays in background] 📝 Narrated by: delulu4rujinu

Time Stamp [00:04] [Scene: Backstage before Huntrix’s performance. Baby is filming a dance-trend with Atiny's Jiyoung. It’s a little sexy dance ;) ] Youtuber’s Caption (YC) : “When ur a grown adult but ur mom (Rumi) still sees her small son”

Rumi was seated on the couch prepared for the tired idols who needed to relax after a performance. She and the girls had just finished performing “Take Down”, they’d changed some of the lyrics so it wasn’t as much of a diss track as it was intended to be, and she had come to relax a bit. That was when she’d seen Baby-saja and Jiyoung, from a group called Atiny, talking together. They seemed to be agreeing to something but Rumi couldn’t tell what.

She started typing on her phone, faking being distracted, when suddenly, the two started doing some tiktok dance. She’d recognized the sound as the chorus to Atiny’s new song but she had no idea the dance was so… sensual. Her jaw dropped in disturbance and she rubbed her eyes, hoping to get rid of the image.

“Why are his pants that low???” she began whispering to herself, fussing over the unknowing man, “Who gave him that shirt? He looks like he’s trying to strip 🙁” YC : Insert disappointed mom face

Once Jiyoung had left the two, Rumi was immediately on his case, scolding him. “What would Jinu say if he saw you doing all that?”

“Doing what?” speak of the devil.

“Baby here was.. I can’t even say” she shook her head. Baby rolled his eyes at her dramatics before explaining the situation to his leader.

“Baby~” Jinu gasped dramatically, holding a hand over his face, “You’re growing up so fast.”

Baby shook his head, walking away from the two. “I hate you guys.”

Time Stamp [01:37] [Scene: Zoey doing the worm on the studio floor. Baby cheers hers on.] YC : “Why are they so messy 😭”

The two were the only ones in the practice room. What was supposed to be a music session turned into the two having a small dance battle. While neither maknae was the group's official dancer, they both learned well.

“I bet you can’t do a backflip,” Zoey scoffed at the blue-haired man. He rolled his eyes at her before jumping high into the air and doing 3 backflips in a row. As he landed, he sent her a smug smile.

“Show off,” she huffed. Suddenly, a bright idea popped into her head. “Can you do this?”

“Whaaaat are you doing?” Baby mumbled, eyeing her as she got on the ground.

Zoey pushed with her arms, chest lifting up, then brought her hips up in a smooth motion. Her whole body flowed forward in a wave-like rhythm. Chest, stomach, hips, knees, toes, then repeat.

Baby watches silently. A little confused but very impressed. “…Okay. That was actually kind of good.”

“Now you do it,” she motioned to the ground as she got up. Baby immediately shook his head.

“No thank you,”

“You can’t do the worm.”

“Yes I can”

“No you can’t”

“You suck,”

“I’m telling Jinu”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Baby smirked, “He wouldn’t believe you anyways. I’m his favourite.” YC : Jinu having favourite members is so real 💀

Neither of them saw Jinu watching them both. “I cannot believe I used to steal souls for peace and this is what I deal with now.” YC : Jinu demon era?? 🤪

Time Stamp [02:48] [Scene: Rumi frantically brushing Baby’s hair before a photoshoot.] YC : “That one time Baby tried to go on stage with chunky glitter in his hair”

Rumi seethed as she combed through the boy's, shockingly healthy, dyed hair. “I swear, the next time you put glitter in your hair, I will tell dispatch you’re possessed again.”

“But Rumi it’s called artistic expression—” he grumbled, trying to explain his side.

“I will ground you from eyeliner.”

He shut up immediately.

Time Stamp [03:00] [Scene: Behind the scenes at a variety show. Zoey’s balancing four milk cartons on his head.] YC : “the moment jinu started praying”

Jinu looked like he could cry, “Why does it always have to be you two.”

“They take after you!” Rumi scoffed.

“WHAT PART OF ME IS THAT UNSTABLE?!” YC : Rujinu never beating the parent allegations 🥳

Time Stamp [03:41] [Scene: Baby, Romance and Mira filming a TikTok dance in the middle of traffic. Yes. Actual traffic.] YC : “Rumi’s soul leaving her body”

Rumi isn’t sure how they got into this situation. She’d just gone shopping with Zoey for food to fill up the dorm when she realized there was massive traffic. “That’s odd, this street isn’t normally that busy,” she said confused, handing a bag over to Zoey who scrolled through her phone.

“Oh yea, it's cause Baby, Romance and Mira are filming some new tiktok,” the girl spoke calmly, sipping on a drink Rumi had bought her after a lot of begging.

“I’m sorry they’re what?” As they turned the corner, they were faced with the cause of the mess. Baby and Mira had been filming some complex dance tiktok, with Romance hyping them up as a camera man. They all thought the middle of the street would be the perfect place to do it.

“GET OFF THE STREET MIRA, ROMANCE. OH MY GOSH. BABY NO—” Rumi immediately rushed towards the two as Zoey stood laughing.

“And Mystery says i’m the crazy one” she wiped a non existent tear as she continued to record the group.

Time Stamp [04:12] [Scene: Zoey and Abby sneak a puppy into the dorms. It’s wearing a crop top.] YC : “they named it Ziggy. it’s got an Instagram now.”

Zoey had been hanging out with Abby after practice hours. The two had gone for a snack run when they came across a dark hallway. They almost passed by but were stopped when they heard a weak whimper.

“Oh em gee-” Zoey cooed as she crouched before the small animal.

Abby could already see the plan forming in her head. “No no no. Zoey, Jinu will kill me if you take that dog anywhere!” but he was too late.

Zoey walked back to the dorms, puppy in hand. It was cleaned and fed and dressed in a cute little Huntr/x crop top. Abby trudged behind her, already seeing the millions of ways Jinu would somehow blame him for this.

“Can we keep it?” Zoey presented the animal to both groups, they were all hanging out in the company lounge.

“No Zoey,” Jinu immediately disagreed.

“Actualy…” Rumi began. She laughed as the boy-band leader looked at her in shock and confusion.

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Rumi,” he whined. Baby scrunched up his face in disgust. Why were his parents flirting right in front of everyone….

“To be fair, you have a pet tiger and bird.” she reminded him.

“That’s different…”

Time Stamp [06:18] [Scene: Baby, Zoey and Mystery in the kitchen at 3am making pancakes on Instagram Live.] YC : “When your brother tries to set you up with his bestfriend”

Mystery couldn’t remember how he got into this position. All he knew was that Baby woke him up when trying to sneak out of the dorm room and, for some unknown reason, Mystery found himself following his band-mate.

He didn’t know he would be hanging out with the two maknaes at 3 in the morning. He sighed as they adjusted the camera, officially going live.

“Hello Moonies~” Zoey whispered to the camera, greeting the Huntrix fans. They were named ‘Moons’ after the Honmoon. “Oh! Hello Prideeeee” she also greeted the Saja Boys fans. This was a joint live after all.

She moved out of the way to set up the cooking items as Baby occupied the camera. Mystery stood quite awkwardly, this was the first time he’d seen the female hunter in pajamas. She was, unfortunately, cute.

“How can I help?” he asked her.

She looked up at him, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes before turning nonchalant once more. “Help me with the pancake mix?”

“Sure”

Time skip!!

Rumi woke up to multiple notifications going off on her phone. She picked it up only to jump out of bed, accidentally waking up Jinu. “Rumi?” he called out, still half asleep.

“They set the kitchen on fire!” she screeched.

“Who??” he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Zoey and Baby!”

“That’s not surprising,,,”

“MYSTERY WAS THERE”

Jinu let out a deep sigh. He was gonna kill them.

Time Stamp [08:10] [Scene: Baby and Zoey being interviewed about their parents.] Interviewer: “What’s it like having Rumi and Jinu as your role models?”

Zoey -> “Rumi teaches us how to glare at people without talking. It's how she handles Jinu when he pisses her off.” Baby -> “Jinu once told me to moisturize or die. He changed my life.”

Time Stamp [09:32] [Scene: All four together. Rumi and Jinu flopped on the couch. Baby and Zoey cuddled up in the middle eating popcorn.] YC : “at the end of the day they’re still a family ❤️”

“I still think we should’ve left them at the orphanage when we had the chance.” Jinu mumbled as Rumi cuddled into his side.

“Shut up. You spoil them every day. You couldn’t live without them.” The four of them end up falling asleep on the couch. Later, the remaining members of the Saja Boys, and Mira return to the dorms only to be greeted with them asleep.

“They don’t treat us that nicely,” Romance rolled his eyes, arm resting across Mira’s shoulder.

“That’s cause none of you are worth it,” Mira teased before flopping on the floor in front of the couch and getting comfy.

“Group sleepover~”

Time Stamp [10:00] [“Thanks for watching!! Don’t forget to like, comment, and stan Huntr/x and the Saja Boys for clear skin 💅💖✨” [Outro Music: “As If It’s Your Last” echo remix]

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wttcsms · 9 months ago

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if you feel like falling (catch me on the way down) | ONE

ᝰ.ᐟ after getting your heart broken by professional soccer player, rin itoshi, all because he loved the game more than you, you officially swear off all men — especially athletes. your publicist doesn't get that memo, though, and you find yourself roped into a fake relationship with yoichi isagi, who isn't just a pro soccer player, but also your ex's rival. things could get messy. ( fem!reader )

pairing yoichi isagi x reader (endgame), past! rin itoshi x reader word count 2.9k chapter synopsis there are certain perks to having a relationship that operates on a "private not secret" basis. for example, you're allowed at least two weeks before the batshit crazy people online figure out that little miss it girl just got her ass dumped. chapter contains partying to cope, social drinking, diet culture, this fic is so chronically online LOL author's notes so normally, i would organize the fic's different arcs or acts by explicitly saying "act 1" or whatever. like i said, we're gonna be chronically online, so the arcs are described as different "eras" and when it's a new arc, we'll get a new era 🤭 each era has special graphics for it: what the media sees vs what's actually going on. think of the era intro as a moodboard for the chapters that'll follow <3

⋆˚࿔ CURRENT ERA: PARTY GIRL 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ from the outside, it's giving irl serena van der woodsen but even better, no one can possibly have the same 24 hours as you, someone needs to convince you to drop the skincare routine STAT, matter of fact - we just need your whole game card

— guest starred on the hottest pop culture podcast where it was basically just a glaze session for you (besides the last 10 minutes where the host started asking about rin), articles that want to help readers live your (unattainable if you're not rich!) lifestyle, and a devoted fanpage that updates your every move... every move.

on the inside, it's actually giving listening and actually relating to sad music, asking an 8 ball if you're the problem, being desperate enough to believe those tiktoks that say if you claim this sound and interact 3x he'll text you back, wondering when you should mail him back his stuff, keeping busy in the public eye so no one suspects how miserable you are right now

— even spotify clocked you and it's auto-generated, customized playlist perfectly depicts what you're going through (talk about the saddest soundtrack to your life), got desperate and consulted quora (this is how you know you're at rockbottom). not shown: your credit card statement (retail therapy works, right? right?!)

“Promise you’ll be on your best behavior?” Yukimiya peers over his sunglasses so he can give you a very pointed look. You tilt your head innocently.

“When am I ever not?”

Yukimiya lets out a very loud, very drawn out, very exasperated sigh. When have you not been on your best behavior? Well, just last month, you got drunk, stumbled out to your garage, hopped in your custom-wrapped pink Porsche, and somehow ended up falling asleep on top of the hood. (In your defense, at least even in a drunken stupor, you weren’t stupid enough to drive.) Last week, you collected the numbers of about eight different athletes and models, sufficiently led every single one of them on, and are now actively ghosting all of them because they committed the cardinal sin of not sounding like, feeling like, or being anything like Rin. And speaking of the devil, Rin’s the reason why just last night, you ended up blocking not just him from your social media, but his whole entire team, too. You felt vindicated when you did this at 2 AM. Yeah, because that’ll sure show him! He hasn’t looked at your story once since the breakup (not that you’ve been keeping track or anything), but in case he tries to play it cool and gets one of his teammates to view it on his behalf, you’ll have put a stop to that plan.

(Even when you’re spiraling, you’re still painfully aware of the fact that Rin’s most likely doing okay, if not still performing at his best. He is most certainly not doing something as childish as getting his teammates to relay info on you to him. Meanwhile, you are apparently a social liability for your closest friends. Spectacular.)

“Don’t answer that.” You tell him. “I don’t want to know what my life looks like through your eyes.” It’s bad enough that every little thing you do gets documented, photographed, and then sensationalized on the Internet, but it’s one thing for strangers to commentate on your behavior when they don’t even have the full story. It’s another thing entirely when it’s your best friend criticizing your current lifestyle.

“I’m just saying, it’s going to be a very casual lunch with my favorite people. Not a party.” Yukimiya clarifies.

“Kenyu, you do realize that inviting me to a birthday party, and then saying ‘it’s not a party’ is kind of giving mixed signals right now.” Now it’s your turn to give him a pointed look, but just like his, there’s no true venom behind it. It’s Kenyu’s birthday celebration, anyway. You’re not about to corrupt Mr. Catholic Private School and tell him to throw a fucking rager.

“If my team gets their way, there probably will be an actual party. If there is, you’ll be the first one I give the details to.” There’s a distant shout in the back; the photographer is done with his lunch, and he’s ready to wrap this shoot up. Kenyu examines his hair in the vanity mirror before getting out of his chair and giving you a quick hug. Your photos have already been taken, and there’s really no point for you to be on set still.

However, Kenyu’s on set. Your only other viable option is to just go home and hide under your covers, rewatching Someone Great on Netflix and Doordashing Ben & Jerry’s. Juliette is home in France and won’t be coming back until the end of the month, and you’re not really in the mood to see any of your other friends. It’s tiring being around people who can’t separate front-cover-of-Vogue you from the real you. If you’re going to have to fake a smile, it might as well be on set rather than grabbing brunch with people who would kill to be able to leak something as headline-inducing as your breakup.

“Pinky promise?” You look up at Yukimiya. “You promise to tell me about the party even if I’ll make a fool of myself because apparently I don’t act on my best behavior?”

He rolls his eyes at your comment. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, and you know that. Besides, you could never make a fool of yourself. Anything you do is declared iconic, anyway.”

Having a famous movie director as a father and a certified Hollywood starlet as a mother, life wasn’t just set at easy mode for you. You practically were given an unlimited money hack and started off with like, five times the XP compared to any other beginner. At thirteen, you told your parents that for your birthday, you wanted to become a model. Two phone calls and a private jet flight later, and you had signed with the best modeling agency in the country and had your first ever photoshoot booked.

Fate gave you parents with connections, and you’d be a fool to not use it to your advantage. Fate also gave you the same photoshoot as another young model, and you’d be a fool to not befriend Kenyu Yukimiya immediately. Out of all the friends you’ve ever made, fate only gives you good luck twice: first with Yuki, then with Juliette. You used to think you got lucky three times — meeting Rin for the first time was like experiencing something cosmic. Now you know better. Even rich people can have shit luck, too.

Today’s unlucky situation is the way Yukimiya’s “favorite people” all happen to be athletes. There’s not a single person here who isn’t his teammate or somehow related to Bastard Munchen, except for you. If you didn’t love Yukimiya so much, you would have hauled ass. It’s normally easy enough for you to avoid soccer players at parties because they don’t normally get invited to the same social events you do, but now you’re the odd one out.

At least the food is good. You don’t have a photoshoot scheduled until next week, and that’s exactly why you’re comfortable with choking down half a bagel sandwich rather than socialize with the guys seated by you. Yukimiya’s real big on intimacy and the power of friendship or whatever, which is probably easier to achieve when you play a team sport versus the modeling industry, where good jobs are few and far between, and the reason why some models are so skinny is because they can’t afford to eat — literally and figuratively. If they’re not booking jobs, there’s no way they can buy groceries in this economy.

He has everyone assembled at one long table in the massive backyard of his mansion. It’s honestly kind of Last Supper-core, but it fits him. Little Yuki’s finally old enough to have a seat at the big kid’s table. He’s sitting across from you, and you’re sandwiched between Kunigami and Hiori. Next to Yukimiya is Isagi. Out of everyone at this party, soccer player or not, Isagi is the person you want to avoid the most. So far, you think you’ve managed to skirt under his radar. If everything goes as planned, you’ll be able to leave this lunch with your belly full and not having to interact with anybody. It’s looking like you won’t even have to drink in order to get through this.

“Hey, out of all of us at this table, who d’ya think would have the best shot at being a model?” Hiori is clearly speaking to you. The blue-haired player is looking directly at you, for God’s sake. You wonder if it’ll be mean to blatantly ignore him, but considering how this little question seems to have captured the attention of the surrounding players, it looks like pretending you’re hard of hearing is out of the question.

Inside, you’re dying. The last thing you wanted to do was socialize, but it’d be selfish and bratty to request that Yukimiya find more time in his busy schedule to have a one-on-one celebration with you. You’re here to support your friend. You can stomach being friendly with boys who have probably seen Rin more recently than you’ve last seen him. Fuck — why are you thinking about Rin? Do not think about Rin!

You grab one of the premade mimosas from the tray in the center of the table. You down the glass in one swift gulp. On the outside, you flash Hiori a bright smile and give an airy giggle. “Why? You trying to get a foot into the industry?”

Hiori’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “W-well, no. Just wanted to make conversation.”

“No worries! I’ve been trying to keep up with whatever you guys are talking about, but even after all this time being friends with Kenyu, I still don’t really get soccer.” Your smile is still intact. You reach for another mimosa.

“Rin didn’t teach you anything?”

Ever since you entered the industry, you knew that you had to get comfortable with standing out. No — you needed to thrive on standing out. You needed to crave, to rely on, people’s undying attention in order to survive. In the eyes of the media, you’re the center of attention. You got what every girl your age wants. At this table, everyone’s eyes are focused on you. What you want is to be back in your room, away from their prying gazes and curious stares.

But you’re a trained professional. Your smile never slides off, never turns into a grimace. You give a casual shrug, directing your answer to the person who mentioned Rin in the first place.

“I make it a rule to not discuss work when we’re together.” You look at Isagi, asking him with your eyes if that’s a good enough explanation for him. He holds your gaze, looking at you like he sees right through you.

You drink another mimosa.

After loosening up because of the drinks, you find casual conversation with the Munchen players to be easy. The boys honestly never shut up, and you don’t know what they’re talking about half the time, but you’re cracking genuine smiles every so often, and by the time Yukimiya is going around and saying his thanks for everyone showing up, you are…

Not drunk, per se. You’ve built up quite the tolerance these past few weeks, and it’s hard to get wasted off of drinks that are basically three-fourths orange juice. (Seriously, was Yukimiya getting stingy with the champagne? Sober You might be able to acknowledge the fact that Yukimiya might have just been preparing for the Worst Case Scenario, which would be you hogging all the drinks to yourself. Which sort of happened. Fuck. Sometimes it sucks to be known so well.) You’re definitely tipsy, though. Maybe half a tier above tipsy? Whatever the case, you are definitely in no shape to drive.

“Kenny,” you whine out his nickname, trying your best to pull out your puppy-dog eyes. “Please take me home.”

“Ah, damnnit, [Name].” He runs his fingers through his dark curls. “Did you seriously get drunk off of orange juice?”

“Champagne drunk is the best drunk. I’m pretty sure People Magazine quoted me on that like, last year, so it’s basically fact.” Yukimiya doesn’t seem overly impressed. “And I’m not drunk, but my alcohol levels right now are definitely above the legal limit. Sorry, but I don’t plan on making headlines for a DUI. Hard to spin that into something iconic.”

This gets Yukimiya to crack a smile. “I thought you were leaning into the party girl look?”

“Yeah, but after Justin Timberlake got caught for intoxicated driving, he made it look totally lame. He ruined it for us!”

“I wish I could drive you back, but I have to retake some photos for this sneaker ad I’m doing, and with traffic, I’m really cutting it close already. Do you want to just come with, or hang out at my place until I get back? You should’ve said something sooner; I could’ve asked one of the guys to drop you off.”

You crinkle your nose. “No, thanks. I’m not a fan of strangers knowing where I live.” Becoming a model at such a young age thrust you into the spotlight. With media attention comes total pervs who lurk in Reddit threads and 4Chan, and stumbling upon some of the things said about you, reading the things they would do to you if they found you, all laid out in disgusting, graphic detail, left you kind of paranoid. Getting doxxed might be one of your worst fears. No Ubers. No car ride homes with strangers. “I’ll wait here. It’s been a while since I went through your things, so I’m sure there’ll be enough of your dirty secrets to uncover to keep me occupied.”

“Did you need a ride?”

Shitty luck, indeed.

The teammate who decided to stay behind to help clean up (because he’s just that outstanding of a guy) is the sole reason for why you went buckwild on the mimosas. You can see why Rin was always frustrated with him.

“Nope—” You say, at the same exact time as Yukimiya nods enthusiastically.

“Would you mind? [Name] actually lives pretty close by, so it might not be out of the way.”

You shoot Yukimiya a scathing glare. He ignores it completely, smiling at Isagi.

“I don’t mind. That is, if you don’t mind.” Isagi is looking at you expectantly. Yukimiya trusts him. And you trust Yukimiya. By some sort of logic, you should reasonably be able to trust Isagi. It’s clear that Kenyu wants you to carpool with him, anyway, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so happy to dump you onto him.

“Sure. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

What would happen if you jumped out of a moving vehicle?

At best, you’d get your pretty skin all scraped up, meaning your photoshoots would either have to be delayed, or you would have to endure all the clear distaste for your “unprofessionalism” in the workplace from the people who actually had to work to get to where they’re at. At worst, you end up hospitalized. Somehow, it seems easier to photoshop out a few cuts and scrapes than working with someone in a full-body cast.

As you weigh the pros and cons of jumping out of Yoichi Isagi’s vehicle — a sleek, black sedan that’s top of the line, sure, but understated luxury; it’s not flashy like the sports cars you see most athletes sporting — he smoothly reverses out of Yukimiya’s driveway. Isagi does that boyish thing where he ignores his backup camera completely and opts to rest one hand on the back of the passenger headrest, the other hand on the steering wheel. Fuck. Maybe it’s not a boyish thing. Maybe it’s manly. Isagi leans a bit into your space; not enough to bother you, but enough to where you can smell the scent of his cologne. He smells clean and fresh. Maybe it’s not cologne, but laundry detergent and fabric softener. Somehow, you find this very fitting of him.

He glances out the window to check for traffic and eases you two onto the open road.

He’s not playing any music, and you’re sure as hell not about to ask for the aux. You look out the window instead, watching the world pass you by through tinted glass. It makes everything around you appear darker. Somehow, you find this to be very fitting for you.

“You live around this area, yeah?” Isagi asks you, and you’re reminded that if you want to go home, you actually have to let the driver know where home is.

“Yeah, sorry. Keep heading straight, and I’ll let you know when there’s a turn coming up.” Talking to Isagi shouldn’t feel so awkward. After all, you managed to talk (and actually enjoy talking) to all of Yukimiya’s teammates. You even got along well with Kaiser. But it just feels weird — you’ve never met him directly, but you’ve heard so much about him, that it’s hard to not see Rin’s rants every time you look at Isagi.

So you don’t — look at Isagi, that is. You look at everything else. His car is clean. There are air fresheners in the AC vents. The floor of the passenger seat is oddly clean, like no one ever sits here. If that’s the case, you hope your heels didn’t track in any grass blades or dirt.

“Um,” Isagi awkwardly clears his throat at a red light. “When I mentioned Rin earlier at the party…”

“What about it?” Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Since the car is stationary, you’re in the clear, right? If you just unlock the door, you can escape on foot. Your house is now close enough that it’ll just count as today’s exercise.

“Sorry for bringing him up. I didn’t know—”

“—didn’t know what?” You turn to face him. His jaw is surprisingly sharp, and you watch the way he swallows before he answers you.

“I didn’t know that you two broke up.”

No one knows that you two broke up. You’re still in the process of making sense of it all, and because you’re so messed up over it, naturally you had to confide in Yukimiya and Juliette. Neither of them would ever share that secret, though.

So why the hell does Yoichi Isagi know?

“The light’s green.” You tell him, shifting your body in the seat, avoiding him by positioning yourself even closer to the door.

Neither of you say anything else during the drive.

#yoichi isagi x reader #isagi x reader #rin itoshi x reader #smau #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #series: if you feel like falling #fluff

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w2soneshots · 9 months ago

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Glitter -W2S

words: 0.6k+

warnings: jealousy.

summary: Harry doesn’t like glitter but when he sees you putting some on Chris at the eras tour he changes his mind.

notes: hey babes! I’m not a swifte and don’t know loads about Taylor Swift but I hope I did this request justice🫶🏼. Enjoy!!🤗🎀

Liked by wroetoshaw, faithloisak and 893,012 others

y/username: T Swift baby!!!🩵

Tagged: @wroetoshaw @chrismd10 @theobaker

-comments-

taliamar: HOTTIE🥵

chrismd10: glitter for dayyyzz

y/nfanpage21: the makeup's lookin fire😚🤌

user56911304: w2s confirmed swiftie??!!

"Oh Harry, come on. It's just glitter!" I was trying to convince Harry to let me put some of my glitter onto his face. "Nah, no, it's messy and annoying." He backed up from my glittery hands. I huffed, though I respected his decision. "Fine. So boring." I turned to finish doing my makeup.

Once I was ready I popped a pot of silver glitter into my bag, along with powder and lipgloss, just in case I needed to touch anything up. I slipped my heels on then made my way into the living room. Harry got up from his place on the sofa.

"You look great babe," he complimented, hands making their way to my waist. I smiled up at him. "Sure you don't want any glitter?" I tried one last time. He huffed out a laugh. "I'm sure, let's go."

We left and got a taxi to Wembley stadium. Harry got a text from Chris just as the car pulled up a few streets away saying that him and Theo were already inside. We walked through a sea of people before finally getting to the entrance.

We scanned our tickets and made it inside without a hitch. "There they are!" Harry said loudly as the stadium was filled with people and very noisy. "Hi!" I exclaimed as we got to our seats right at the back. I shared a quick hug with the boys then got situated.

When Taylor finally came out the crowd burst into excited screams and the intro music began playing. Chris seemed to be extremely excited. Me, Harry and Theo chuckled as we watched his face light up.

y/username just posted a new story!

Around two hours in I reached into my bag to reapply my lipgloss, along with the glitter I'd brought. "Is that glitter?" I heard Chris ask from beside me. "Yeah, want some?" I asked hopefully. He nodded eagerly.

I reached my finger into the pot and dabbed some over his skin from his temple to his cheekbone. We were taking as I did it and once I was finished I turned back to my bag to see that Harry was looking at us.

"You okay?" I asked, brows raised. He shuffled slightly. "Uh- I changed my mind, can I have some?" He gestured down to the pot in my hand. I smirked. "Jealous are we?" I teased as I did the same to him as I'd done with Chris. "No. Just realised it looks cool," he replied nonchalantly. "Mhm, sure." I giggled.

I was extremely pleased that everyone was now sporting silver gitter and I was glad Harry had given in. We all turned our attention back to the stage.

The concert lasted just over three and a half hours. By the end my voice was practically gone and my feet were killing me but I'd had so much fun. It took an annoying amount of time to get out of the stadium though.

We parted ways with the boys and Harry held my hand tightly as we rushed to the uber we'd booked prior, trying not to bump into people as there was a large crowd outside.

The traffic was awful on the way home and I ended up drifting off, my head resting on Harry's shoulder. He helped me inside when we finally arrived outside of our apartment and we both fell into bed.

The next morning we woke to glitter spread across both of our pillows. Harry groaned. "This is why I hate that stuff." I chuckled groggily. "You looked hot though babe."

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year2000electronics · 11 months ago

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Bill & Ford & A Book, Oh My!

DISCLAIMER: The Book of Bill has Bill Cipher serving as an unreliable narrator. If we go out trying to say something is "definitively a truth" or "definitively a lie", we're going to keep arguing about it until the heat death of the universe. This is just my own personal interpretation of the source material. If you don't agree, that's fine! Also TBOB spoilers abound.

So it's no secret that interest in the dynamic Bill & Ford have (enemies, platonic, romantic, formerly romantic, whichever way) has really skyrocketed since TBOB's release. Of course, there are the 'easy' culprits to point towards, with Mabel referring to Bill as 'being like a needy ex', and the whole O'Sadley's fiasco (Him literally crying over losing Ford and going "one Sixer, please"? Messy. Messy behavior. Still, I think it goes so much deeper than that.

Bill, being the unpredictable chaos entity that he is, also serves as the main antagonist for a show about family and having close bonds with each other. We don't really need to look into his inner psyche that much, because that's just not what he needed to be doing at that point in the cartoon. He's meant to be a way to divide the Pines, really. And a silly little guy. A silly little obstacle. So, naturally, when it came to Bill's arguably "closest" relationship to someone in the show (Ford), it was very easy to interpret it as Ford being tricked by a completely apathetic Bill, who was just using him as a rung on the ladder. And I do want to stress that Ford and Bill's physical actions remain fairly consistent throughout interpretations, and focusing on the fact that Bill badly hurt Ford is important, so if that's how you still see it, then fine by me! No harm no foul!

But I think the relationship, their story, their tragedy just becomes so much more interesting with the lens The Book of Bill has presented. We’re finally able to see Bill’s perspective as a “protagonist” of sorts in a medium where he’s not just something to defeat- and that’s something we’ve never gotten before, so it’s shedding light on an area we didn’t know about for sure! Again, Bill is lying to the character of "the reader", so we can't trust it as a completely unbiased source. But we can speculate on where the "truth" is between these lies.

First of all, Bill's backstory was that he destroyed his home dimension- we knew that already. But now, with the extra content we have about it, we see something interesting- that Bill's backstory mirrors Ford's to an uncanny degree.

Both of them champion their intelligence, although they highlight how it set them apart from others, as well as highlighting their own 'rare mutation/birth defect'.

Again, with this self-isolation already spurred on from their "weirdness", but also as a little aside, I would also like to highlight that Bill being 'ready to be one', looking up at the stars, striving to 'reach' them, is a shared motif he has with Ford, who is also associated with space, the stars, and reaching them.

Bill's 'trying-really-quick-to-convince-Ford' fantasy sequence even has him in a field of stars as a sort of "ultimate wish fulfilment". Remember, this is Bill showing Ford something he thinks would win Ford over, at least a little.

(And I'll take a quick time out for this train of thought to point out- hey! Bill admits he sought out most of his other victims, but Ford summoned him, and it took him by surprise! That adds a fun little layer of complexity to everything, don't you think? Another little layer of humanity for this whole mess- Bill didn't expertly seek out the 'perfect victim' or anything, it was just... luck. Some twist of fate.)

Anyways.

Obviously, the intro page to the 'Sixer' section has a ton of red flags galore (I mean, poor guy's literally depicted as a hapless puppet. C'mon, Bill. Not to mention the "OH BOY HE'S ALREADY SO ISOLATED, IT'S PERFECT" thing.). This guy is kind of a terrible companion no matter how you slice it. He's terrible to everyone close to him, because he's a deeply traumatized character who refuses to heal. BUT, the wording here is kinda deliciously intriguing to me. All of humanity is Bill's puppets, his future victims, but to me, it's clear that he holds a fondness for Ford. From "This is what a partner looks like", to "Me and Sixer could be the perfect team", to "He had what I always wanted- fingers" (drawn to his strangeness, maybe?), "He was destined for so much more", "I looked at his futures and giggled", and most stand-out to me, "Society calls these people freaks, I call them Henchmaniacs!"

Going back to the pre-Book of Bill era I was talking about, Bill's offers for Ford to join him were always in a sort of murky territory for interpretation. The first offer could definitely be read as mocking, with the line "WITH THAT SIX-FINGERED HAND, YOU'D FIT RIGHT IN WITH MY FREAKS!" in particular making it seem like Bill was only saying that to rub Ford's strangeness in his face, and the second offer to join Bill being under a new circumstance- that now Bill is desperate and believes Ford is the only one who can help him. But the Book of Bill mentions the idea of Ford becoming a Henchmaniac more than once, and also has Bill upset at losing Ford and claiming "he'll be back", as well as Bill seeming to use "freak" more like a badge of honour, and having previously complimented Ford's six fingers (In the Sixer intro page, he highlights Ford's fingers as a quality he likes, and in the pages about bodies, he states that "humans should have more fingers". To me, that first offer reads more now like Bill being genuine about finding Ford a place among his misfits. ...Although, the moment Ford says no, he does zap him into a statue. So. Y'know. He's still got issues.

(Yeah, again, red flag city. "Just hazing"? Bill, none of what you were doing over there was okay! You might have suppressed everything traumatic that happened to you, but that doesn't mean you can go around traumatizing everyone! Good lord.)

Bill has already been imply to like other characters because they remind him of himself. Pointing towards a connection with a character Bill DOESN'T have a weird undefinable ex-partner thing with... Mabel! Alex has says in multiple official media and interviews that Bill sees a lot of himself in Mabel, and essentially, that he thought Mabeland was the perfect prison because if HE liked all that awesome, uncontrolled chaos over any family or friends, why wouldn't SHE? And we see that again in TBOB. So basically, what I'm saying is that we have two characters to back up the fact that Bill seems gravitated towards humans or other living beings that he views as being 'like him'- beings he can relate to! So, y'know, what does that say about Bill and Ford?

There's also Bill's plans for the reader and "Weirdmageddon 2.0", where he portrays the reader as getting to, like, perch on his arm like a little bird and get their own little crown? And specifically calls out Ford for not going through with things?? Okay, Bill??

AND Ford not only being the only human mentioned on the list of people he "definitely doesn't miss so stop asking", but also having his own category? Alright, man.

Of course, another point to the 'Hey, maybe Bill can actually feel emotions towards humans besides complete and total apathy' club is this page here, which has ALSO been hotly debated! Certainly, we know he's telling the truth about his home dimension being destroyed, and we know that he's lying about the 'monster', but some interpret this scene as Bill not being remorseful at all and playing his reaction up to earn Ford's sympathy. And me, personally, I dunno if I agree. I feel like the specific inclusion of Bill "looking distant, more distant than I'd ever seen him" (Mirroring the fact that he keeps blacking out when thinking about all his large-scale massacres) and him "laughing joylessly", I think this sequence is meant to tell us that Bill actually is being vulnerable with Ford here, it's just hidden under layers and layers of deceit, whether towards himself or Ford or both.

And finally for my Book of Bill collection stuff, there's the stuff that could be read as more romantic in nature. In the 'love' section, Bill claims he doesn't love anyone, but, like-

Come on. You can disagree with me that it's Ford, but he does have exes. And he's clearly not over them. Shrimpy little liar. And then there's the fact that a lot of his hokey 'advice' is stuff he ends up directly doing to Ford.

These rats.

The Love Cage.

The Book of Bill really outlined all that in bold, but in my opinion, it was never an entirely new revelation! Bill seems to hold a preference for Ford over other humans in the show. He shows up in Ford's dreams just to say hi, tease him, and gloat (Mabelcorn) unlike the other two dream appearances he's made (Dreamscaperers, Sock Opera) which were exclusively for business purposes. Unlike every other character that gets exclusively one nickname for their zodiac sign, Ford gets multiple (Fordsy, IQ, Sixer, smart guy, brainiac, the list goes on). Bill asks Ford to join him TWICE, whereas anyone else who tries gets their face rearranged, put in a cage and made to dance, frozen in stone, etc etc. And finally, I think, the most emblematic of Bill's weird, specific relationship with Ford, is that whereas everybody else gets turned into stone, Ford got turned into gold.

Which kinda sums up their whole thing up pretty well? Bill gave him special treatment by turning him into a golden statue (similar to yellow ha ha), always holding him close, but, like... Dude. You still kidnapped a man and turned him into a statue and then threatened to kill his niece and nephew. I don't think it will change his opinion on you if he's the Most Pampered Hostage, Actually. I just don't think that we need to explore the relationships between characters as simply "Well, this character hurt the other one, so we shouldn't really think about why or what they feel personally, because what they did was bad, so there".

Bill & Ford interest me because they're a tragedy in motion. We can see that Bill and Ford mirror each other in a multitude of ways, and we can see that they both do have positive feelings towards each other at the time they meet, and we see that Bill very desperately wants Ford to be just like him in the unhealthy ways; the ways that make Bill destroy entire universes and compartmentalize it all, because maybe then, he can finally have the companionship he so deeply aches for. Bill and Ford both had tough, lonely upbringings, but Ford moved on from that "I don't need you" mentality. That's what saved him. Bill didn't, and that's what got him where he was in the end. I feel like that's just so much more interesting than Bill just being a flat entity that makes abuse Happen to Ford, just as another Event in his life. I mean, isn't it just SO much more interesting that Ford humanizes Bill, in a way? That Ford makes him- in Bill's own words- "sentimental"? That a chaotic dream demon has regrets and loves and favourites and connections? It's the same thing with Fiddleford & Ford, although, obviously, to a MUCH lesser extent than Bill & Ford. But you get what I mean, right? You know that Fiddleford and Ford are going to undo each other in the end, and the path to that downfall is... it's telling a story! I like the story of it all! I think that's what I've been invested in and intrigued by all these years- the story, the tragedy of Bill and Ford. No matter what form it takes.

(Plus, as tumblr user fordtato pointed out in their own essay (not tagging because this post is messy enough as is oh god), hey, Ford now has two incredibly queer-coded narratives, with one of them being about how he recovered and was able to heal from an abusive relationship. And, well, I think that's just neat.)

Anyways, that's the end of the post. Thanks for reading this long!

#gravity falls #the book of bill #bill cipher #billford #analysis #book of bill spoilers #gravity falls spoilers

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bunni-v1 · 3 months ago

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Genshin College Au (Intro)

Bunni College AU take. These are just a dump of thoughts. I wanted to include more characters but there's only so much my little brain can handle. You can also def tell who my favorites are so, uh, shut up. Idk if I'll continue this, idk if I even like what I wrote, don't be mean to me, please. Anyway, enjoy!

TW: Mention of Alchohol and Drug use; Suggestive in Navia's part

Info: Navia x Reader; Wriothesely x Reader; Alhaitham & Kaveh x Reader; Eula x Reader; Venti x Reader; Kazuha x Reader; Childe x Reader; Ifa x Reader

Sumeru Academia (Graduate Branch), the pride of Teyvat. A collection of the greatest minds spanning from the windy peaks of Mondstat to the fiery pits of Natlan. Students come from across the world just to study in its grand halls, all yearning for the honor of being added to the list of greats who came from the prestigious academy.

You were no different, of course, having left your home as soon as you could after receiving your acceptance letter. Bright and starry-eyed, you couldn't wait to finally finally start your time there. Moved into your dorm, books bought, and closet fresh just for your new life here. You really had thought of everything! Everything except... well... your social life.

None of your friends had managed to get in, so you were completely alone. You didn't want to let it stop you, though! So what if you were socially awkward and a bit in over your head, you got into Sumeru Academia, you could do anything you wanted to if you set your mind to it. Even making friends.

What you didn't expect, though, was to collect a harem instead. You were confident you were pretty cute, but... certainly not cute enough to have so many people vying for your attention. Yet, you did. You had managed to put yourself on a lot of people's radars, and while it was nice to have so much attention... it was starting to get in the way of your studies.

The first delightful face you meet is Navia. Your roommate and fellow first year. Her bright and bubbly personality made her easy to get along with, and you found it very easy to talk to her despite your awkwardness. She was far more outgoing than you were, which was great, forcing you to get out of your shell and explore the campus and Sumeru City. You already found yourself having sleepless nights gossiping with her, playing with each other's hair, doing each other's nails, all the cute girly things you'd expect from someone like her. She always made you feel so pretty, complimenting you no matter if you were dressed for the clubs or in your nightshirt with messy hair. The way she protects you from creeps is so sweet, always checking in with you and walking you to and from classes when she can. It was obvious she wanted nothing but the best for you, and you thought it was all friendly bantering... until one night. You were up chatting, it was three in the morning and both of you had an 8AM, and neither of you was completely sober. You don't know how it happened, but one second you were giggling about your annoying professors and the next you were making out with her. It probably wasn't a good idea, but she tasted like buttercream frosting and the sweet wine you'd been sipping on, you couldn't stop yourself from letting her tongue slip into your mouth. It's all a blur, really, but you wake up in her bed curled up in her arms and you think that it's not so bad. It was Navia after all.

The next person you'd met was enigmatic, and constantly tired Wriothesley. He was something of a local legend around campus, the tall buff law student with a permanent RBF and eyebags so heavy they could make you yawn at just the sight. You'd only found yourself in his intimidating presence thanks to Navia, who'd known him through one of her friends back home in Fontaine. It took you a long time to warm up to him, his reputation wasn't there for no reason, but once you gave him a chance you were positively charmed. Wriothesley was funny, clever in the way only someone in his field could be. He had a way of making you laugh without really having to try, and you'd always felt safe when he offered to walk you and Navia back to your dorm after spending too long out together. Truly you'd never hung out on one with him before, too nervous the conversation wouldn't flow too well, but when Navia gets sick right before a scheduled study session you feel too bad to cancel on him. So you haul your mousy ass all the way to the cafe on campus and explain the situation to him. You really expect him to reschedule, but he doesn't. In fact, he sits his ass right down next to you where Navia usually would be and talks to you like it's nothing. He even manages to sneakily pay for your drink without you realizing. It's, possibly, the least productive study session you'd ever had, but you can't complain when he's smiling at you like some kind of rugged prince. He even gives you his coat when you start shivering on the walk home, ever the gentleman. You only realize he'd forgotten it when Navia asks about it, too lost in your daydreams about how romantic he was all night.

Your next love interest came in a pair - well, not initially. Kaveh was your academic mentor, there to help you along with your classes and make sure your first year as an Academia student went smoothly. He was your reliable upperclassman, someone who'd helped you out plenty, but not someone you'd considered an option for a friend. He was technically in charge of you, right? That was until you met his shadow, Alhaitham, and more aptly, you watched said shadow completely destroy the calm and collected facade you'd always seen Kaveh hold. It was funny, really, watching how fast Kaveh got pissed at Alhaitham for simply scolding him for forgetting his keys. Calling him forgetful and insulting his scatterbrained tendencies. No amount of damage control would get you to forget what you saw, so Kaveh regrettably gave up the fight and just let you know just how much of a mess he was. Swamped with work, in debt from scholarship money, and completely exhausted. You'd gone out of your way since then to bring him an energy drink every time you saw him, delighted when his face lit up at the offering. It was odd how easily the two of them became a frequent part of your daily routine, usually ending your nights heading over to their (Alhaitham's, he always insisted it was his apartment that he allowed Kaveh to live in) apartment to hang out - usually watching shitty B-list movies and picking them apart for fun. (It was Alhaitham's favorite pasttime, and the only time you'd ever see Kaveh relax). Alhaitham, despite his abrasive first impression, was easy to get along once you understood how he worked. He liked quiet while he worked on things, he didn't like being bothered, and he liked to relax. Quite the opposite of the ever-stressed Kaveh. You'd fallen asleep during your movie marathons far too many times, somehow always waking up in one of their beds, tucked in while the other slept on the couch.

You had met Eula by complete accident and made quite the fool out of yourself in the process. Everyone knew not to bother using study room five in the hub during midterms, that was Eula's room. She always went to it, she studied for three hours, and then she left to get dinner before bed. Everyone knew that. Everyone but you, of course. You had a huge project coming up that you had, of course, neglected until the last minute. So with a six-pack of Red Bull, your computer, and a dream you'd reserved study room five for the night intent on getting it done in one go. That was, apparently, not a good idea as about twenty minutes into your session someone knocked on your door. Eula Lawrence was nothing short of annoyed as she peered down at you, the freshman stupid enough to take her study room. Why, it was inexcusable, unheard of even for her to be so blatantly disrespected. Yet, when you offered to just share the room with her, all the sharp words died on her tongue. She simply strutted in with a flip of her hair and a huff. It was hard to pay attention to your task with such a pretty person across from you, her concentrated features burning into your mind, and you were sure you'd be dreaming of her that night. Still, with four Red Bulls down and fifteen minutes left on the submission time, you'd managed to complete your project just as she closed up her book. It's a shock when she offers to buy you dinner when she finally looks up at you, it's even more shocking when she huffily gives you her phone number and requests that you join her again sometime soon.

There is one class that you never seem to enjoy, and that's poetry. You didn't have any issue with poetry itself, nor were you bad at it, just... the professor was the worst. The workload was ungodly, and the free elective you'd selected had become more stressful than your main class load. The only thing that seemed to make it bearable was your seatmate, Venti. He was a real hotshot with the poem stuff, and musically talented too, not to mention the funniest guy you'd ever met. He always had something to say about your professor that got the two of you in trouble for giggling too loud more than a few times. You only ever saw him in the class, but that 12:00-1:10 period went from your least favorite time to one of your most anticipated. An in-class tryst that you expected to stay that way. Until, of course, Venti asked you out of your first official unofficial date. He'd gotten you tickets to see his band play downtown, and while it might not be super romantic, it was the first time anyone had ever asked you out before. He'd catch your eyes in the crowd and you swear you saw his grin widening when you'd wave excitedly at him from the crowd. He even let you meet his band!

That's how you met Kazuha the lead guitarist and quite a heartthrob. He had a way with words that left your head spinning in confusion. Was he flirting, was he high, you had no idea. All you knew is he was cute and really sweet. He didn't technically attend the Academia, but he sat in on classes all the time. He was infamous for sneaking around campus and seeing what he could get away with before someone realized he wasn't supposed to be there. After meeting him, he started to show up around your classes a lot more, sometimes even walking with you between them and sitting in the back with you. He always had something poetic to say when you complained to him about classes or the campus, and while you didn't always understand the underlying meaning, you appreciated his flowery words regardless. He always went out of his way to compliment you on something new every day, making your heart race and face heat up in a way you hoped wasn't obvious. He was so constant in your life that you nearly forgot he wasn't supposed to be there until you had to pretend he was your boyfriend to get public safety off his case. He'd stuck with that story ever since, always introducing himself as your boyfriend to strangers with a cheeky smile... which only went over well with so many people...

Being as much of a recluse as you were, it was surprising to find that you'd caught the eye of the basketball team captain. Childe had completely ruined your favorite shirt barreling through the cafeteria one day, spilling greasy taco meat down the front of it in his rush to get to his table. He'd felt so bad that he not only cleaned you up but ditched his team to sit with you and keep you company since you usually ate alone. The gesture you'd expected to be a one-time thing happened now every Wednesday and Friday during your free period for lunch. He was flirty, but that didn't get in the way of his genuineness. He was a very heart-on-the-sleeve kind of guy, able to charm you with his straightforwardness and lighthearted teasing. Everyone you knew told you to keep your distance from him, but you couldn't help but like him! He was sweet, funny, caring, and not to mention pretty handsome. You just didn't know what was so bad about him. Not until you saw it firsthand. Being harassed by some creep as you walked to lunch as usual, you figured it would be over as soon as you got in and got to your regular table. You're quite surprised to hear Childe shouting after the guy accosting you, and more shocked when a loud crack sounds from his fist hitting the guy straight in the jaw. You spend your free period that day patching Childe up and scolding him for being reckless, even if it was helpful. With a fighting spirit like that, you'd have to be careful on what you let happen around him - sevens forbid he see you and Kazuha and mistake it for harassment from some random civilian.

Your one saving grace from all of this was the quiet of the cafe deep in the heart of Sumeru City. Its warm and inviting atmosphere was the perfect getaway from classes and people. Just you, the music, and a nice hot cup of coffee... and the super cute guy you had a secret crush on. You felt a bit like a stalker, watching him from a distance as he slaved over medical textbooks and endless notes, but he was just in your line of sight. It's not like you hadn't caught him staring a couple times before either, so at least you weren't the only one doing it. You don't know his name or anything about him, but you know that he goes to the same cafe as you every weekend and studies there way past when you leave. It's only by chance, and by that you mean bird, that you manage to finally talk to the handsome stranger. His cheeky little pet bird lands right on your shoulder as you walk around campus one day. Cacucu, as you learn, was Ifa's pet bird who had a knack for getting out of his dorm thanks to his forgetful roommate Ororon. He was a vet student in his fourth year at the academia, and it showed on his face, handsome features worn down from years of studying endlessly. It didn't take away from how attractive he really was, though, and was he attractive up close. As an apology for his bird bothering you, he bought you your next cup of coffee from the cafe. It was the first night you'd seen him there that he wasn't studying, instead, focused on talking to you. From then on. everytime he'd see you come in, he'd invite you to his table and chat until you got up and left. He'd complain about his roommate and Cacucu keeping him up until six in the morning, and you'd vent your woes about classes and personal drama. A symbiotic relationship of sorts formed between the two of you, becoming one another's sense of freedom from life stressors. It was so nice, in fact, that Ifa had asked you out. Not like Venti did, where it was implied, no. Ifa asked you out on a real date at a real restaurant with real flowers! It was all so perfect! Until, of course, news of it got out to the others.

#bunni's treats 🧁#x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #alhaitham x reader #wriothesley x reader #childe x reader #eula x reader #navia x reader #ifa x reader #venti x reader #kazuha x reader

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jungkoode · 5 months ago

Text

I tag my related asks/posts for visibility and won’t be changing this. If this bothers you, I encourage you to block or filter my content. I promise you I don’t care. Messages about tagging will be ignored.

Don’t want to see my posts? Here’s my tags.

Still looking for an explanation? It’s right here.

I avoid Y/N mentions in my works. Nicknames are the norm.

Read author intros/tw before engaging with any of my stories.

My stories are very slow burn. Know what you’re getting into.

Updates explained on faq.

I narrate from a limited character’s POV. Never omniscient.

UNLESS MENTIONED, ALL OF MY WORKS ARE EXPLICIT, 18+.

✧ ( fuck me up ) - ongoing

✧ aka FMU ✧ jungkook x female reader ao3 link: [archive of our own] wattpad link: [wattpad] tumblr link: [tumblr]

Author intros/tw.

this one's not for the faint of heart. it's messy, it's raw, and it's complicated. you'll meet jungkook at his most difficult—emotionally distant, a little bit broken, and hiding behind the physical connection he has with y/n. a one-night stand turns into something neither of them can define, and their journey is as emotionally charged as it is physically intense as they navigate their roommate situation.

✿ heavy on the angst ✿ lots of psychological depth ✿ fuck-buddies-to-something-more ✿ trauma, healing, and everything in between

if you're into stories where the characters push and pull until they collapse into each other—this one's for you.

₊˚✧ ( kkangpae ) ₊˚✧ - ongoing

₊˚✧ aka KGP, KK ₊˚✧ jeon x female reader ao3 link: [archive of our own] wattpad link: [wattpad] tumblr link: [tumblr]

Author intros/tw.

welcome to the dark side of seoul, where attachment means death and rules are written in blood. you'll meet jeon at his most lethal—cold, precise, and carrying the weight of a past painted in red. when you join kkangpae's seduction division, you know the rules. no relationships. no exceptions. but there's something about the way the chief assassin looks at you that makes you wonder if some rules are worth dying for.

✿ heavy on violence and gore ✿ complex power dynamics ✿ enemies-to-lovers-fuck-buddies with dire stakes ✿ psychological trauma and moral ambiguity ✿ 500k EMOTIONAL slow burn gang au

if you're into stories where love and death dance too close for comfort—where every kiss could be a bullet and trust is a luxury no one can afford—this one's going to break you in all the right ways.

₊˚✧ ( the 25th hour ) ₊˚✧ - ongoing

✧ aka 25H ✧ yoongi x f!reader ao3 link: [archive of our own] wattpad link: [wattpad] tumblr link: [tumblr]

Author intros/tw.

in a world where time is strictly regulated, some people called Outliers still experience the forbidden 25th hour. when they do, they're erased—rewritten into obedient citizens with no memory of who they were.

you've always been normal, until the night you wake at 1:59 AM and meet min yoongi, a mysterious agent who seems to already know you. now, hunted by the authorities, you must uncover the truth: about the 25th hour, about yoongi, and about the versions of yourself you don't remember.

✦ dystopian psychological thriller ✦ time-bending romance ✦ mystery, conspiracy, forbidden love ✦ angst with a side of existential dread

if you like plot twists, reality-questioning narratives, and achingly star-crossed romance, this story is your next obsession.

₊˚✧ ( unmanageable ) ₊˚✧ - TBD

✧ aka UM ✧ jungkook x female reader ao3 link: [archive of our own] wattpad link: [wattpad] tumblr link: [tumblr]

Author intros/tw.

welcome to the gladiator pit of seoul's entertainment industry, where you'll meet jungkook at his most lethal—korea's ice prince with dead eyes and a talent for verbal execution. aloof, sarcastic, trust issues deeper than his bank account, and a coldness that makes winter feel like a beach vacation. when HALYX dumps his impossible ass on your desk, it's clear why every handler before you quit: the man's never heard the word "no" until you showed up with your clipboard and zero tolerance for celebrity bullshit. he thinks your efficiency is a personal attack; you think his designer tantrums are beneath someone with his talent. what neither of you expected? the sick satisfaction of finding the one person who won't back down; of having someone see your worst and stay anyway, even if it's just to prove they can break you first.

✧ 2 professionals 1 wrong word from career homicide ✧ spite/hatred so electric it could power seoul ✧ emotional warfare disguised as management ✧ enemies to lovers but the enemies part is probably 300k words long bc i’m tired of enemies not enemying

if you need stories where contempt feels like foreplay and professional distance becomes the biggest lie two people ever told themselves—this one's going to live in your head rent-free long after you finish

₊˚✧ ( code : epitaph ) ₊˚✧ - ongoing

✧ aka C:E ✧ namjoon x female reader

ao3 link: [archive of our own] wattpad link: [wattpad] tumblr link: [[tumblr]]

Author intros/tw.

veyrah is a dying planet where survival means sacrifice and hatred runs deeper than blood. namjoon—the cold engineer of a system designed to decide who lives and who dies—gets paired to you as a 100% genetic match, and thus you're both sentenced to 60 days of forced proximity before the final transference. one of you will survive the blood ritual. one of you will die. no one knows which until the moment arrives.

as the daughter of executed traitors and a rebel hacker with too much blood on your hands, you hate everything he stands for. as the warden who built the system that keeps the last fragments of humanity alive, he despises your chaos. but as you're forced to navigate the broken sectors together—completing missions, dodging assassins, and fighting the clock—your mutual loathing becomes the only constant in a world determined to break you both.

✧ open-world dystopian AU ✧ raw hatred ✧ death sentence ticking in the background ✧ blood bonds and brutal choices ✧ 60 days until one must die

if you're drawn to stories where hatred and understanding are two sides of the same knife—where every shared breath is a countdown and trust is the most dangerous weapon—this one's going to leave scars in all the places you can't heal.

✧ ( 5 seconds to freedom ) - ongoing

✧ aka 5STF ✧ latino!jimin x female reader | street racing Tokyo au ao3 link: [archive of our own] wattpad link: [wattpad] tumblr link: [[tumblr]]

Author intros/tw.

in tokyo's underground racing scene, respect isn't given—it's earned at 200km/h with your life on the line. for years, you've been untouchable as "hachiroku," the drift queen whose AE86 has humiliated men with cars worth ten times yours. then he arrives. jimin—"jaque"—with his midnight purple skyline and spanish curses when he's pissed. cocky. reckless. the bastard who handed you your first and only defeat. now he's everywhere—leaning against your car, watching you with those eyes that see too much, calling you "princesa" just to watch you scowl. by day, you're trapped in a life of obligation—the perfect heiress engaged to the perfect son of the perfect family. by night, you're free. but freedom has a new price when jimin starts blurring lines you've carefully drawn, making you question which version of yourself is real.

✧ high-octane street racing culture ✧ heiress with a dangerous secret identity ✧ rivals-to-lovers with explosive chemistry ✧ forbidden attraction across social divides ✧ complex family legacies and responsibilities

if you crave stories where every rev of an engine feels like a heartbeat and every race is a confession—where two people from opposite worlds find freedom in the five seconds after the light turns green—this one will leave you breathless.

✧ ( in the presence of you ) - TBD

✧ aka IPY ✧ prince!seokjin x princess!reader | royalty, 1700/1800s

ao3 link: [archive of our own] wattpad link: [wattpad] tumblr link: [tumblr]

Author intros/tw.

when two kingdoms collide, the casualties are counted in pride. yours being the most devastating. aurenne's spoiled crown princess shipped off to daeryndor like a pretty peace offering—married to a man who treats you like an inconvenient ghost in his own palace. seokjin may have the demeanor of carved marble, but you've never met a statue you couldn't crack. too bad he seems immune to your charms, because he doesn't look at you during dinner. doesn't acknowledge your existence beyond what duty requires. and somehow that hurts worse than if he'd shown outright disdain. it wasn't supposed to be like this—you, the girl who's been adored your entire life, now sleeping ten feet from a husband who'd rather read diplomatic scrolls than touch you.

two kingdoms, two heirs, one marriage bed you're both too proud to share—until you're not.

✧ pride and prejudice but make it royal ✧ slow burn to rival an ice age ✧ bratty heiress meets stoic prince ✧ the most lavish emotional edging you'll ever read ✧ arranged marriage with actual character development

if you're drawn to stories where dignity crumbles one forbidden touch at a time... this tale will consume you completely.

✧ ( we grew up somewhere along the way ) - ongoing

✧ aka WGU ✧ hoseok x female reader

ao3 link: [archive of our own] wattpad link: [wattpad] tumblr link: [tumblr]

Author intros/tw.

five years in osaka turned hoseok into someone you barely recognize—a hentai manga artist with stained fingers and a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. you were supposed to get a coffee, catch up, and move on with your lives. instead, you keep finding excuses to show up at his tiny apartment, pretending it's not the only place in this foreign city that feels like it could be home. he still calls you "capy" like you're twelve, still sprawls across every inch of space like it belongs to him. you still call him "ott" with that eye roll that says you're above this, above him. but neither of you can explain why the air feels different when your knees touch under his drawing table, or why you keep volunteering to model for his stupid cat-girl character even though you'd rather die than admit it feels good when he tells you you're doing it right.

❀ childhood friends to strangers to something terrifying ❀ osaka, 2003—vending machines and konbini dinners ❀ GRUMPY (yn) x SUNSHINEEEE (hobi) ❀ two people avoiding adulthood at all costs ❀ "it's just for the manga" (it's not)

if you're into messy reconnections where the stupid nickname he gave you at nine still makes your stomach flip at twenty-five—where being known is both the most comforting and most terrifying feeling in the world—then you'll find yourself in every silence between their words.

✧ ( strings attached (to my heart) )

updates: when goal in part 2 is reached.

✧ aka SA(TMH), strings attached ✧ jungkook x female reader ao3 link: [archive of our own] wattpad link: [wattpad] tumblr link: part 1 | part 2

Author intros/tw.

when your local friendly neighborhood spider-man can't stop bringing you snacks at your favorite cafe, and a certain clumsy freshman keeps showing up at the most suspicious times, something's gotta give. featuring: a supply closet, some very interesting revelations, and jungkook absolutely losing it when you touch him.

✿ spiderman au ✿ college setting ✿ sexual tension ✿ virgin!jungkook ✿ 25k words of pure self-indulgence

if you're into flustered jungkook, secret identities, and things getting spicy in inappropriate places—this one might be your new favorite.

✧ ( off-labels ) — mini series | completed

✧ aka OL ✧ hoseok x female reader tumblr link 𝟘𝟙 | 𝟘𝟚 | 𝟘𝟛 | 𝟘𝟜 | 𝟘𝟝 | 𝟘𝟞 | 𝟘𝟟 | 𝟘𝟠 | 𝟘𝟡 | 𝟙𝟘 | 𝟙𝟙 AO3 link: [archive of our own] | wattpad: [wattpad]

Author intros/tw.

when your brother’s best friend is the golden boy of Seoul National’s medical program, and you’re just trying to survive your first year of med school without combusting every time he offers to “help you study.” between his perfectly pressed white coat, those steady hands that have probably held hearts, and the way he keeps finding excuses to explain anatomy in that low voice—you’re starting to think your chronic overthinking might be the least of your problems.

✿ medical school au ✿ brother’s best friend trope ✿ gentle!dom hoseok acting innocent ✿ plausible deniability king hoseok ✿ competency kink ✿ mini series

if you’re into smart men who pretend not to know what they’re doing, forbidden attraction, and things getting inappropriately educational in study rooms—this one’s for you.

✧ ( altars in shallow waters ) - ongoing

✧ aka ASW ✧ stalker!taehyung x ballerina!reader

ao3 link: [archive of our own] wattpad link: [wattpad] tumblr link: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

Author intros/tw.

MOODBOARD.

in the forgotten corners of paris, where mold creeps up studio walls and mirrors collect the ghosts of movement, there's a ritual forming. he watches from the shadows as you dance—counting your breaths, cataloging your mistakes, collecting the ribbons you discard. his devotion isn't love. it's something older. something that reeks of salt water and rust. when your eyes finally meet his through smudged glass, something inside you recognizes the worship in his stare. you shouldn't want it. you shouldn't test how far his fixation goes. but there's something about being the center of someone's universe that makes even the most controlled people come undone.

✧ psychological fixation that blurs into reverence ✧ mirror-worship and the horror of being truly seen ✧ obsessive rituals disguised as coincidence ✧ rotting beauty in decaying urban spaces ✧ sea-salt imagery and drowning metaphors

if you crave stories where devotion becomes disease—where every accidental touch feels like baptism and every shared glance is confession—this will pull you under until you forget how to breathe. this isn't romance. it's what happens when two broken people turn each other into gods.

✧ ( margins ) - TBD

✧ aka MG ✧ jungkook x female reader

ao3 link: [archive of our own] wattpad link: [wattpad] tumblr link: 01

ko-fi

early access: 01

snippets

Author intros/tw.

london's literary golden boy meets his professional nightmare. he thinks bestseller status means rules don't apply. you think his ego deserves a restraining order. he submits manuscripts titled fuckyoufuckYOUFINAL.pdf at 3AM. you reply with perfectly formatted emails titled "Are You Serious Right Now." he leaves coffee rings on your desk. you've considered murder via papercut. the entire publishing house has evacuation protocols for when you're both in the same room. your coworkers have started a support group.

when his contract lands on the chopping block, you're both chained to an impossible deadline: 180 days, one book, one publicity tour, minimal bloodshed. then you find it—not his manuscript, but transcripts of every fight you've ever had. he's been studying you. using you. turning you into words on a page.

"she alphabetizes her bookshelf. i leave my manuscripts in the bathtub. we were never going to work."

✧ chaos gremlin vs. order overlord ✧ professional oil and water ✧ cat and dog vibes ✧ "did you seriously wear PJs to a BOARD MEETING" ✧ mutual screaming that produces bestsellers ✧ that exasperating workplace romcom energy where HR needs therapy

if you're trash for those dynamics where she's all structure and he's all impulse—where they fight like cats and dogs but somehow make the perfect disaster together—this one will have you bookmarking every delicious page.

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