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maxinehufflepuffprincess · 2 days ago

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First Meetings

BangChan x Fem!Reader

9th Member.

(So this is finally done. I heard it's STAY's birthday. So Happy Birthday to Stay. I hope everyone who watched the live had a fun time. I hope this is a good enough Birthday present. 🤗🥳🎂🎉)

Word Count: 3411.

Characters: 18,175.

Characters without spaces: 14,825.

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Progress Update.

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Summary: Your first impressions and meeting the guys.

You had seen many faces during your time as a trainee. Some people became friends with you. Some people were more like acquaintances. You’d have people coming to you to help with learning dances. As you grew up, you watched person after person, friend after friend, debut. It wasn’t until you met eight boys that you debuted. Eight boys who became your family.

—--------

Chan was the first of the Stray Kids that you met. You were both young teenagers when you met. Both bright eyes and full of hope. You had been running to the JYP building, wanting to make it in time for your dance class. It was pouring down with rain. You hadn’t been paying attention, not properly. Just as you got to the building, your body collided with another. You fell back and landed on your butt.

“Ouch!” You whimpered slightly as you looked at the ground.

“I'm sorry.” A male voice spoke.

You looked up, to see a boy around your age sitting on the ground, just like you. “No, I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going.’

The boy stood up and brushed himself off. He frowned feeling his pants were now wet. He walked over to you and offered you his hand. “I wasn't paying attention either. So we can both take the blame.”

You slipped your hands in his and he pulled up so you were standing. “Thank you.”

The male smiled at you and shook your hand. “I'm Bang Chan. But I'm also called Chris.”

You smiled and introduced yourself. “Which would you prefer to be called?” You asked him.

Chan thought for a moment. “Chris but I'm happy with both.” You hadn't dropped your hands, but you were no longer shaking hands.

You both walked towards the building. Chan opened the door, letting you go in first.

“Thank you.” You spoke softly.

You got a good look at him. He was adorable even. He seemed kind enough and there was something about him that made you relax.

Chan looked at you with a smile. “So, where are you heading?” He asked you curiously.

You smiled brightly. “Dance class.” You told him excitedly.

Chan nodded his head at you. “Me too. Maybe we're in the same class?” He suggested with a hopeful smile.

“That would be fun.” You told him as the two of you walked, side by side dripping water from the rain.

As you both walked you chatted about anything and everything. It was nice. You were both excited when you found out you were indeed in the same dance class. Thankfully you both came across older trainees who gave you both some spare clothes and a towel each to dry off.

It was safe to say that you both stood next to each other for every dance class for now on. It was the start of a beautiful friendship that would one day, turn into more.

—--------

You had met Minho in one of the dance practice rooms. Chan was working on something with 3Racha. You were bored so you decided to dance, only you didn't realise someone was in the usual room you practice in.

You stepped inside to see a boy dancing. He looked your age. Maybe slightly younger. You watched as he moved. He was very impressive. Watching him dance was like watching someone do something that they were born to do.

When he stopped you clasped, making the male jump. You immediately stopped.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spook you.” You held a hand out to him and introduced yourself to the male. “But everyone around here just calls me Honey.”

Minho took your hand and gently shook it. “I'm Minho. I wasn't expecting anyone to be here this late.’

You shrugged. “Honestly, same. But you are so good. Your movements are breathtaking and so captivating.” The excitement in your voice was clear as you gushed. “And that turn you did? So clean, especially going into the foot moments you did right afterwards. That was flawless.”

Minho blushed deeply at your words. “Oh, um thank you. That's really sweet of you.” He watched you for a moment. “Do you maybe want to stay? Dance with me a little? What were you going to work on?” He asked curiously.

You happily nodded and put your stuff down. Minho watched as you sat down and took out a pair of ballroom heels from your bag.

“Ballroom. JYP wanted me to showcase some of my more ballroom background. So me and my…best friend are gonna do a routine together.” You explained.

Minho nodded. “Could you show me?” He asked you curiously.

You nodded as you out your heels on and got up. “Yeah, if course.”

That's how the two of you stayed for two hours. Both of you dancing. Doung routines you both know, showing each other new things. It was great. You foubd out about his background. How he started dance and how he's been dancing ever since. About how he was a backup dancer for BTS. Then he showed you a dance he choreographed himself.

“Do you know who Bang Chan is?” You asked the male as you both sat on the ground together. You both were drinking your waters.

“Kinda of? I've seen him around and i know he's that guy here. The one everyone knows and has some type of connection with.” Minho confessed.

You nodded. “I think I want to introduce you to him. Dance is like a second skin to you, Min.” You had a feeling he would fit nicely in with the group Chan was forming. Chan had been searching for one more person. Another dancer, hopefully.

Minho thought for a moment before nodding, smiling at the nickname. “Alright, sounds fun.”

You smiled brightly. You were sure that Minho was the missing piece of your found family.

—--------

You had been on your way to meet with Chan and Han in Chan's studio. You knocked on the door and opened it.

“Your favourite girl is here.” You announced.

Han hopped up and made his way to you, giving you a big hug. “Ah, my mother is here. I thought you had forgotten about me.” He pouted.

Han was the first of your boys to call you Mother. When you and Chan had taken him under your wings, he had made a joke about how you were his trainee parents. It stuck. Him playfully calling you Mother or Mom. Calling Chris Father or Dad. It was sweet.

You hugged him back and smiled. “Did you miss me, my baby?” You asked him wuth a giggle.

Han nodded. “Not as much as Chan-Hyung. You should have heard him, whining because you weren't here yet.” He grinned as he pulles away from you.

“Yah! Don't expose me like that.” Chan shook his head but smiled as you walked over to him. He welcomed you with open arms and the two of you hugged.

You pulled away and smiled up at him.

Chan smiled. “Honey, there is someone I want you to meet.” He said turning you to face a new face in the room. The male was sat on the couch, his phone in hand as he watched the three of you. Han walked over to sit with him.

“This is Changbin. He's a rapper. He's really just clicked with me and Han.” He explained to you. He then looked at Changbin. “Bin, this is Honey. The girl I was telling you about.”

You smiled bashfully at Chan's words. You walked over yo Changbin. You couldn't decide if he was intimidating or the definition of a teddy bear. You introduced yourself as you held out a hand to him.

Changbin stood up and shook your hand with a small smile. “Why does everyone call you Honey?” He asked curiously.

You let out a soft giggle. “Channie started it. He's kind of just always called me Honey. Because apparently I'm as sweet as Honey. Plus I like it on my toast and in my tea sometimes. I also tend to make Chan camille and honey tea when he's sick.” As you spoke, Changbin nodded along with a smile.

Changbin let out a small laugh that filled the room. It was a nice laugh and unique. “It's your voice too. As soon as you speak, I feel stuck. Ready to hear whatever you have to say. It's nice to meet you, Honey.”

The two of you smiled at each other.

Chan placed a hand on your hip. “We actually wrote a song together. Wanna hear it?”

You nodded in excitement. Chan sat down in his usual producer chair. You sat beside him and listened to the song. It was good, really good. Changbin's rapping skills were amazing to you. In your opinion, Changbin was rap. He was fast, captivating, skilled and his voice was thunderous. It boomed but in a good way.

You listened to how the three males sounded together and they sounded phenomenal. You were sure that these three may have just found their sound together. Their rap sound at least. They were going to go far together. You had full confidence in the trio. You had a feeling that Changbin was going to be a positive presence in your life for a long long time.

—--------

Hyunjin had walked into the dance studio you were in. He didn't exactly look all that happy. He was young and trying to prove to everyone that he was more than just a pretty face. He thought the room was empty. But now, there you were. Dancing, going all out on a dance that everyone in the company was learning

Hyunjin slipped inside the room and silently watched you. You were good, very impressive. You moved like you had been doing this all your life.

Hyunjin liked to dance, he wanted to get better at dance. When you finished, you noticed the male at the door.

Your turned around to face the male. You gave him a curious smile. “Hi.” You waved at him.

Hyunjin immediately waved back at you with a shy smile. “Hi.” He spoke as he stopped waving. “That was…wow.” He said with a smile on his face. “You're Honey right? I've seen you around.”

You smiled at him as you walked over to your water bottle and picked it up. You drank from it and looked at him for a moment. “Come in. You don't have to hover by the door, sweetheart.” Your voice was so sweet and kind. He felt safe.

Hyunjin walked deeper into the room and sat down on the couch, blushing from the nickname you gave him. You sat down beside him.

“Wanna tell me what's wrong?” You askdd him curiously. “You didn't look happy when you first came in here. I know you don't know me, but sometimes talking can help.”

Hyunjin thought for a moment before nodded. “Everyone thinks I'm pretty. Just pretty. It's all people see me as. Someone told me I'd probably debut just for my looks, but I'm more than that. I want to show I'm more than that.” He looked down at his hands, frowning.

You took in his words. “You are more. Don't get me wrong. You are a handsome boy. But if you wanna be more, than be more. I've seen you dance here and there. You have a lot of potential. You just need a little help.” You stood up and held your hand out to him.

Hyunjin looked at you and put his hand in yours. He follwed you to the middle of the room. You let go of his hand.

“I'm Hyunjin.” He said, introducing himself.

You smiled up at the lanky male. “It's nice to meet you Hyunjin.” You told him your name. “Or you can call me Honey like everyone else.”

Then you began. You walked him through a dance he wanted to perfect. He watched your every mood, to hold onto every word of advice and made the improvenents. He moved his body, he felt the music and let it carry him.

You watched him do the routine on his own. Hitting almost every step correctly. He was adorable. He was determined. He held a lot of potential and he was finally able to start cracking through.

Yes, Hyunjin was pretty. He had a gorgeous smile and his laugh made you giggle. He was easy to be around. He was incredibly passionate.

—--------

You met Jisung through Chan. You had been off to meet with Chan when you saw him walking with another male. You looked at them in confusion. Because who was this?

“There she is.” Chan pointed you out. He quickly said your name. “This is Han Jisung. Han, this is the girl I was telling you about. Honey.”

Jisung looked at your for a moment. He seemed somewhat nervous yet excited to meet you as well. “Hi. Chan-hyung has told me a lot about you. You should have heard. ‘Ah, she's so pretty.’ ‘Best dancer in the company.’ ‘Voice of an angel.’ Yah!” He covered his head and rubbed it as Chan slapped the back of his head.

You thought Jisung seemed like a pretty nice guy. Happy, pretty chill but still excitable. He also seemed nervous, which you could understand. His mind seemed to go a mile a minute, that was something you realised was true after seeing him work and seeing him when he was comfortable with someone.

“Channie, don't be mean.” You scolded him teasingly.

Jisung grinned at you and instantly came to your side. He hugged you. “Yeah, Hyung. Don't be mean. I have a new protector. You wanna get to me, you'll have to go through her first.”

You let out a laugh and wrapped your arms around the male. “You're fun. Channie, can we keeo him?” You asked him as you gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

“He's not a dog, Honey. We can't just keep him.” He told you, crossing his arms over his chest.

You and Jisung both pouted. “I know, he's a person. We can adopt him. He'll be ours now.” The two of you hugged a little tightwr as you both looked at Chan.

Chan softened up at the sight of you both. “Fine. Welcome to the family, Han.”

—--------

Felix was alone in the cafeteria just eating his food. That's how you spotted him. Alone, quiet and looking around. So you walked over to him with your food.

“Mind if I sit?” You asked him curiously.

Felix looked up at you in surprise. He had seen you around, of course he had. He shared some dance classes with you.

The male nodded, a sweet smile on his face. “I don't mind.”

You set your food down and then sat down in one of the seats. “Hi, I'm Honey.”

“I'm Felix. Nice to meet you.” Oh that smile of his was dazzling.

“Nice to meet you too, Felix. You are adorable. Has anyone ever told you that?” You asked him curiously before tucking into your food.

Felix blushed at your words. “Thank you.” He said before beginning to eat. He was so smiling.

“We share some dance classes right?” You asked him, wondering if you were right.

Felix lit up. “Yeah we do.” There was an excitement in his voice.

“I thought so. You're an amazing dancer.” You complemented him.

Felix let out a giggle. “Really? Thank you.”

Oh he was cute, real cute. His smile and the way his eyes lit up reminded you of pure happiness. And maybe that's what Felix was. Happiness personified.

The two of you sat there for a while, just eating and getting to know each other. Thankfully you both had a clear schedule for a while after eating. The two of you walked together. Felix had a bounce in his step. You were taking him to meet Chan.

“Come on Sunshine, right this way.” You wrapped an arm around his shoulders as he wrapped his arm around your waist. You were pretty sure you had just added another child to your and Chan's growing collection of trainees you were taking under your wings.

—--------

You had been walking pass a room when you heard a voice. It made you stop in your tracks. Someone was singing and they sounded angelic. You walked to the door and opened it carefully. You peaked your head to see a male. He looked younger than you.

Seungmin turned hearing the door open. “Hello?” He asked you in confusion.

“Hi, sorry. I just heard you singing and you are phenomenal.” You told him with a kind smile.

Seungmin shook his head and waved you off. “I'm not, but thank you.”

You pouted. “Hey, don't do that to yourself. Your vocals just then were amazing. I felt every emotion in your voice. That was powerful.” You told him as you stepped into the room.

Seungmin looked down but nodded. ‘Thank you.”

“Would you mind if I listen to you again?” You asked him hopefully.

Seungmin thought for a moment before nodding, a smile slowly approaching on his face. “Okay.”

He had a beautiful smile. He seemed a little closed in on himself. He stood there and began to sing. His voice filled the room. The song was sad. Heartbreaking. You could feel it in the way he held onto certain words. As he allowed his voice to carry the emotions. You saw it in the way his hand tightened at his side when he got to a part he needed to belt. He was incredible.

When he was done, you quickly applauded him. “That was amazing.” You said as you wiped away a few tears that had fallen down your cheeks. “What's your name?”

“Kim Seungmin.” He told you with a small shrug. He reminded you of a puppy. Especially his eyes. They were filled with emotions.

“Nice to meet you, Seungmin. If it's okay with you, I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine, Bang Chan.” You smiled up at him.

Seungmin looked at you for a moment, curious about where you were going with this. “Alright. I'll bite. I'll meet your friends.”

You let out a happy squeal. “Come on, Seungmin. Let's go.” You watched him grab his stuff and he followed you to find Chan.

—--------

Jeongin was lost. He couldn't believe it. He was going to be late to his vocal lesson. However, he was saved when you and Chan came by. The two of you had been walking, pinkies linked as he gushed to you about how fun it had been working with Felix and getting to hear his voice.

You turned your head spotting the lost boy standing quietly, clearly lost. “Are you okay?” Your voice came out worried, soft, motherly.

Chan looked at the male. “Jeongin?” He asked, recognising the boy he had met a few weeks ago.

“Chan-Hyun. I have a vocal lesson in ten minutes and I'm lost and I can't figure out where I'm going.” He almost sounded like he wanted to cry.

Your heart broke for him. You held a hand out to the male. “Come on, Sweetheart. We'll help you get there.”

Jeongin looked at the two of you both walking over. He didn't take your hand though, but he stood by your side. You and Chan walked with the male. The whole time the three of you talked.

You introduced yourself to him.

“I'm Yang Jeongin. You're the one everyone calls Honey right?” He also heard some people calling you Mama Bear. Especially Felix.

You nodded. “Yeah that's me. I think that nickname gets around more than my actual name.” You giggled. Jeongin let out a laugh.

There was something warm about him. He was kind, he was fun to be around. Seeing him sad made you want to cry, but seeing him smile instantly brightened the room. He seemed smart and carried himself like he was ready to prove he was more than a child.

You reached the vocal room. “It was nice meeting you, sweetheart. Don't be a stranger. One of these days, I wanna hear you sing.”

Jeongin thought for a moment. “You could both listen now, if your not busy.” You and Chan both agreed.

You both sat down, watching Jeongin's vocal lesson. He was really good. He had a unique voice. You both shared a look. He was definitely someone you both wanted to work with.

-------

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nijigasakilove · 2 days ago

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“People can be good and bad at the same time” therein lies the true message of this story. It’s messy, it’s hard to watch, but at the end of the day it’s a story about broken people perpetuating the cycle of violence and abuse. The word “masterpiece” gets thrown around a lot these days, but this is truly the textbook definition of a masterpiece. Studio Enshiya and everyone involved in this made not just one of the best anime of the year, but one of the best anime ever made and more importantly, they’ve challenged us all to be more empathetic and kinder.

There’s a lot I loved about this finale, but I’m going to focus on two scenes that encapsulate what made this story so special. The first is Shizuka’s breakdown on Takopi. “What else could I have done? I don’t have a grown up to look after me. They all told me I stink but where do I stink?” Is one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve ever heard and exactly why I will always defend Shizuka’s crash out. She had absolutely NO ONE on her side to stick up for her or even teach her how to deal with things. How could you EVER blame someone when they were never taught an alternative? While Marina was abused, at least she had a dad(sometimes) and a mom(half the time before one of her episodes), Shizuka had her dog and the clothes on her back. Some of the best voice acting you’ll hear this year in that scene.

Takopi’s “I’m sorry I can’t do anything for you” line broke me too because it’s a reminder that Takopi himself is just a scared little kid who comes from a planet where everyone’s happy and kind. This is all a new experience for him and he doesn’t have anyone to talk to or get advice from either. He was too pure for this world. His farewell to Shizuka was such a profound scene. In his last moments, all he wanted was for his two friends to finally understand one another.

And that they did. As I’ve been saying since episode 3 or so, the only way this was ever going to end was Takopi somehow getting Marina and Shizuka to understand one another and become friends. They both have so much in common and their mutual pain could be the foundation of a beautiful lifelong friendship, which it seems like it is now in the post credits scene. I absolutely love the moment where Marina and Shizuka realize their souls still remember takopi and they just start crying together. You can see the moment they become friends.

“To you, my dearest, I hope you find what you want.” What a powerful send off to one of the most emotionally taxing and painful watches ever. It showed the worst in humanity, but also gave us a blueprint on how to become better. Takopi might be a fictional alien, but there’s real life lessons we can take away from this and I hope everyone reflects and will go on to try and understand people and be kinder.

P.S my only issue with this ending is the parents really got no consequences and will probably never change. Both the girls should’ve been taken by cps. While the girls are innocent, the parents should’ve been arrested/marina’s mom needs to be committed to a psychiatric facility.

[review](https://myanimelist.net/reviews.php?id=571492)

#animangahive #animanga #animanga hive #anime #Takopi #takopi’s original sin #takopi's original sin #takopi no genzai #takopii

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padrenicolo · 3 days ago

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the old guard fic recs

a bunch of fics, organised into semi-coherent categories (Pre-Canon, Canonverse and Post-Canon, Canon Divergence AUs, Alternate Universe, and specifically TOG2 Fics). I haven't included any purely super explicit fics bc that's not usually my jam, although some might contain a few smutty scenes. this took so long bc i reread quite a few of these instead of making this post so oops

🔒 = need an ao3 account

Pre-Canon

deo volente (lux aeterna) 🔒 by qqueenofhades, 65.5k, complete, a kaysanova backstory fic

lessons exquisitely crafted by kaydeefalls, 42.9k, complete, After escaping the fall of Jerusalem together, Yusuf walks away from Nicolò in order to return home and move on with his life. Fifteen years later, Nicolò shows up in his dreams of the two immortal women.

The Other Matter by Survivah, 15k, one shot, Falling in love with the only other immortal you know gets a bit complicated. AHHHHH

The Golden Horn by goldsaffron, 10.8k, one shot, About forty years into his relationship wit Nicky, Joe experiences jealousy.

Spring in Malta 🔒 by orphan_account, 7.2k, one shot, What happened in Malta.

forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit by historynut101, 6.1k, one shot, Joe and Nicky getting together

these moving walls by GreyMichaela, 5.7k, one shot, “He looks at you like you belong to him,” Sarwa says. Nicolo keeps eating, oblivious to what they’re saying. “I think he belongs to me too,” Yusuf whispers."

an astonishment of form by raedear, 3.8k, one shot, Nicky and Quynh's friendship <3

Salt and Harvest by hollybennett123, 3.1k, one shot, Bread fic! Bread bread bread.

as an ancient city by stonecarved, 2.6k, one shot, Joe and Nicky through the ages. Beautiful and poetic.

Future Days by maroon, 2.1k, one shot, Andy POV of kaysanova.

and i'll never leave by strangehighs, 2k, one shot, Andy and Quynh finding each other.

Canonverse and Post-Canon

If Never Again, If Every Day by gallifreyburning and takiki16, 178.6k, complete, 1099 Nicky and 2021 Nicky swap places somehow. Old and new challenges arise.

Twenty-Five Love Letters for a Priest by fishie_scribbles, 22.2k, complete, Nile finds an academic essay discussing letters found in an abbey from the early 16th century.

i'll lay my roots in fertile ground by itsmylifekay, 13k, one shot, Snapshots of Nile's first few years with the team.

Something Rich and Strange by cecilyjones, 6.7k, one shot, Booker learns to scuba dive for a job

Stracciatella by ScribeofArda, 4.8k, one shot, Their bodies might show no sign of scars and injuries, but they still remember. A look at the pseudo phantom-limb syndrome the immortals might experience.

or, the modern prometheus by liraels, 3.6k, one shot, Quynh and Andy's first meeting after the first movie, (written long before the sequel with more of the comic characterisation.) Interesting.

The Fine Line Between Romance and Embarrassment 🔒 by twoseas, 3.3k, one shot, Nile asks Joe and Nicky how they got together. Storytelling and feelings. Love it.

the problem with having two, thousand year old brothers 🔒 by SuchASeeweedBrain, 3k, one shot, Nile learning about the historical figures that Joe and Nicky met over the years and freaking out. Silly and fun.

Family Dinner by dadvans, 2.4k, one shot, slice of life

what you're really in for by squireofgeekdom, 2.1k, one shot, Booker and Nile talk about their shared dreams of Quynh.

Victory Is Sweet by Arkada, 1.8k, one shot, Nile comes up with an idea to help Nicky win the baklava challenge.

The Greatest Fiction Podcast On Stitcher (and wherever you listen to podcasts on iPhone, Android, or other devices) by ContreParry, 1.7k, one shot, Silly humour fic where Joe, and the rest of the Old Guard, started a podcast. Hilarious.

Canon Divergence

Missed You By a Few Minutes, a Few Centuries by just_another_tinker, 115.9k, complete, Nicky and Joe's second meeting was over 900 years too late. Different first meeting.

What God Gave You, He Gave To Me by LittleRedCosette, 99.4k, complete, Nicky has also been missing for years when Nile meets the team.

Saltwater Sonata 🔒 by pinstripedJackalope, 68.4k, complete, Nicky was in the iron maiden instead of Quynh.

Travellers from an Antique Land by kaydeefalls, 45.7k, complete, Andy was in the iron maiden, not Quynh. One of my all time favourite 'someone else is under the sea' fics.

built a lot of castles by basketofnovas, 12k, one shot, Quynh is rescued by a marine archaeologist in the eighties.

Shattered Pieces 🔒 by AraSigyrn, 8.6k, one shot, Their escape from the lab in TOG1 went a little different. Booker does his best to make amends in the wake of it.

the goddess finally sleeps, in the lap of her lover 🔒 by wrennette, 2k, one shot, Andy doesn't stop searching fic.

Alternate Universe

Technical Support 🔒 by linascribbles, F1 AU, 96.5k, Driver!Joe and Race Engineer!Nicky. Some found family vibes but mostly focused on the developing relationship between Joe and Nicky. Background Book of Nile if that's your jam (it is very much not mine), but it's easy to ignore if it’s not.

let not time deceive you (you cannot conquer time) by Draco_sollicitus, Academia AU, 85.7k, complete, Nicky is a PhD candidate, looking for someone to translate a famed love poem by a little known poet in an extinct dialect. See: Joe. Different meeting, academia, angst with a happy ending, a wild ride.

Iris by pinesboi, Wild West AU, 62.1k, complete, Yusuf leaves New York to put down roots as a blacksmith in the Idaho Territory. Nicky works on Andy's ranch just outside of town.

a love even time will lie down and be still for by gallifreyburning, Practical Magic AU, 57k, complete, Joe and Nile were raised by witches, namely Andy and Quynh. Nicky is a police officer looking for answers. If you know the movie you know how this goes, if you don't, still read this! Very sweet.

If You Abide With Me by alby_mangroves and ZairaA, Historical different first meeting, 33.7k, complete, Nicolò is a monk dedicated in service to God, when he is put in charge of the care of a stranger who washed up on the shores of his monastery.

To Make Him Glorious by pixie_rings, Pygmalion AU, 23.5k, complete, Joe has been commissioned for a statue by Steven Merrick, but another figure haunts his dreams. YES YES YES.

From Italy, with Love 🔒 by Watthefuckidk, Street Racing AU, 22.3k, complete with an incomplete additon to the series, Andy owns a specialty car shop, along with Joe, Nile, and Booker, and compete in illegal street racing on the side. A new racer on the scene challenges everything.

Peer Reviewed by ishandahalf, Academia AU, 20k, complete, Epistolatory fic in that its told in emails, as Joe and Nicky are each other's blind peer reviewers. I loved this so much.

In a kingdom by the sea 🔒 by Morvith, Royalty AU, 10.9k, complete, Nicky's sister searches for her long-lost brother across the Mediterranean.

what you seek is seeking you 🔒 by bankrobbery, Cafe AU, 9.5k, one shot, Nicky is a baker, Joe is a regular. Yup, yup, yup

you know my name by kaydeefalls, James Bond AU, 4.6k, one shot part of a series in this universe, Andy is 007, Quynh is Q. Its fun.

TOG 2 Fics and Fix-Its

this living starts to burn by biblionerd07, 20.3k, complete, Post-TOG2, Discord underestimates the team and their love for each other as she tries to torture and manipulate them.

I Cannot Change as Others Do by sheafrotherdon, 8.3k, one shot, Nicky POV, kinda a fix-it set after TOG2

By Alphabet's End 🔒 by Siria, 6k, one shot, Andy and Quynh finding their footing again after the events of TOG2.

Talk to Me by PunsAndRoses, 4.8k, Conversations from Trieste to Paris while Nile and Nicky follow Joe.

Four (missing) waypoints by Srin, 2.5k, one shot, Missing scene, Nicky and Nile following Joe.

the thread that untangled by captain_adolphus, 2.4k, one shot, Nile, Nicky, and Joe, and the fight from TOG2.

Shadow on the Backcloth by pixie_rings, 2.3k, one shot, Nicky has thoughts about who Joe is texting.

unburned, yours, snowfallen by moonfreeze, 1.1k, one shot, Quynh musings in the scene with her and Andy in the library.

safe and warm by taq, 1k, one shot, In the library, Andy and Quynh.

#okay this is as done as its gonna get for now #i reread a lot for this #and read a lot of new stuff #its all complete works for this list #as i tend to be hesitant to recommend young wips until i know where theyre going #not everything is perfectly in character id say #but its all still fun #mostly kaysanova because thats what ive read most #but some andromaquynh #and some general family feels #ive not sat with the new stuff for very long obvi #but im excited to see where the fandom takes it #ive been searching for some of the speculative tog2 fics written after the first movie #and the ones writing or rewriting the force awakens comics #but i am apparently bad at searching ao3 #so im annoyed about that #the old guard #the old guard fic rec #fic rec #liz speaks #long post #i dont know if the read more is gonna work bc i did this in markdown and tumblr hates me #the old guard 2 #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #andromache the scythian #nile freeman #sebastien le livre #kaysanova #andromaquynh

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theficnextdoor · 2 days ago

Text

It Was Just One Night

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧*

Brother's Best Friend!Ghost x F!Reader part 5

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧*

You’re trying not to think about how Ghost acted at the bar, or falling asleep on his shoulder, or how he’s almost kissed you this morning. You figured it’d be a boring goodbye and then back to your normal life. Until Soap shows up. Soap—loud, pushy, and impossible to ignore. The one who pushes Ghost to let you in on a hardly known secret.

tw: implied possessiveness, romantic tension/mutual pining, mild language, soap x reader (not really though, he's just there for the drama... you'll see...) mentions of violence (callsign origins), emotional repression slow-burn fic wc: 3.5k Part I Part II Part III Part IV

A/N: hi!! im alive and graduated college last week--so sorry for the wait!! i had orientation things this week for my job bc i start officially on sunday. but with the shackles of academia finally broken i should be able to respond and upload regularly right now heheh

You manage to hold Ghost’s gaze for only a few seconds before you have to look away. Your brother is either completely oblivious to the tension in the kitchen or is willfully ignoring it. Ghost doesn’t say anything after the mini staring contest and heads for the living room. You hear him turn the tv on and let out a sigh as you turn back to the sink to dump out the rest of your coffee and wash your mug.

“You alright?” Your brother asks you as he stands next to you and grabs a bowl from the cabinet to the left above you. You nod your head, giving him your best attempt at a smile, but it comes off as more of an uneasy grimace, “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” you try to keep your tone casual and unbothered.

He gives you an unimpressed expression and rolls his eyes, “You’re a terrible liar.” he states, his eyes flicking to the living room from over the kitchen bar. You don’t have to follow his eyes to know he’s looking to see if Ghost is listening. “Disappointed to be going back to your dorm?” he asks you, his eyes now back on you. Searching your face for the root of your downed mood change.

You take the out that comes with his comment and nod, figuring it’s easier to say it’s about the dorm and not really because you almost kissed his roommate in his kitchen and you wish he hadn’t rudely interrupted you guys. So close… you think.

“Yeah, it’s been…fun. To hang out again like this. Like we’re kids again.” You tell him. He gives you a soft, apologetic smile. “You’re always welcome to stay, y’know that.”

Your brother joined the military at eighteen years old, and with you guys having a five year age gap, it made your teenage years a little lonely without him. Going from having 24/7 access to your beloved sibling to only seeing him on holidays and leaves wasn’t an adjustment you thought you’d have to make when you turned thirteen.

“I don’t want to impose.” You answer after a moment, but your brother waves his hand dismissively and grabs a cereal box and shakes it into his bowl. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my sister, no such thing as imposing with siblings.” He says it without room for argument.

You snort a laugh, “In that case, I’ll just move in.” you tease him, and he shrugs his shoulders, as if to say they’d manage to get it done.

That was something you always appreciated about your brother. He always had your back and would do anything to make sure you were okay. He held family bonds closely, especially the found-family bond he developed with Ghost during deployments. That’s why you felt slightly guilty for the crush you developed for Ghost. You didn’t want to ruin a beautiful friendship if things were to go horrible. And if they go right...? You try to push the thought down.

There’s a loud knock at the door. “I’ll get it.” You say, walking out of the kitchen and heading for the front door. Ghost’s eyes immediately are on you, then the door. You don’t notice him rising from the couch quickly when you get past him and down the hall.

Whoever it is knocks again quickly. Cocky, even, if you can call a knock such a thing, like whoever’s on the other side knows they’re welcomed.

Your brother comes quickly out of the kitchen after you,“Sheesh, never just open the door for a random knock, what if it’s a creep on the other side or something?” Your brother chastises you, hip bumping you out of the way as he looks through the door’s peephole.

He’s always said that to you, thinking that because of whatever it is he and Ghost do for work that it could ‘follow them’ home. There was one weekend when they came back from some military related trip that your brother demanded he had your location the whole time you were out downtown with friends. Paranoid something would happen to you.

Maybe that’s why he was so insistent you stay at his place, aside from not wanting to give you money for the hundredth time this month for a hotel room—if you’re with him, then he knows you’re safe. Knows Ghost will watch out for you, too, even if he doesn’t say it.

His shoulders slouch at whoever he sees on the other side. “Just like I suspected… a creep.” He says it mostly in jest, opening the door and revealing a tall, stocky man with dark brown hair cut into a mohawk, a shit-eating grin on his face. Your brother steps aside for him to enter the house, “C’mon in, good to see ya’, glad you made it.”

Blue eyes quickly land on you, with a playful wolf-whistle following.

“Look at this!” he says, nodding in approval at you, “Didn’t know you came with a sister. She’s much better lookin’ than you.” He shoulder checks your brother, shooting you a grin like he’s already plotting his next line.

Your brother rolls his eyes, “Piss off, mate.” he mutters, but he fails to hide his grin as he shoulder checks the man back.

You offer a small smile, “Hi, I’m y/n, nice to meet you.” You introduce yourself, holding your hand out politely. The man takes your hand in his eagerly, shaking it firmly. “You can call me Johnny,” he half heartedly flirts, looking you over with those mischievous blue eyes again, “Though I answer to ‘handsome’ in a pinch.” he adds, winking at you.

You laugh and blush a little at his antics. Soap is… loud. Energetic. And charming, in his own way. Exactly the kind of guy who’d ruin your life in a fun way.

Soap leans a shoulder against the wall, still half-holding your hand like he’s in no rush to give it back. “Y’know, I don’t remember you mentioning a sister,” he says to your brother, though his eyes never leave yours. “She always this sweet, or is this just for me?”

Your brother rolls his eyes. “You were informed, and she’s off limits to you. Don’t encourage him, y/n. He flirts with literally everything that breathes.”

You laugh at their banter. “That must be exhausting.” “Oh, I’ve got stamina.” Soap replies deadpan to you. You snort before you can stop yourself, then cover your mouth with your hand. “Sorry. That was—” He grins like he’s won something.

An unimpressed, slightly annoyed grunt comes from behind you. “Keep your hands to yourself, Johnny.” Ghost says. He leans himself against the wall just a few feet from you guys. You hadn’t heard him get up from the couch behind you when you were going to answer the door. Johnny doesn’t seem phased in the slightest when he stops checking you out and his eyes lock onto Ghost. His hand immediately drops yours, though, and he stands up straighter just a bit.

“Mornin,’ Lt.” Johnny says, tone annoyingly cheerful, “Don’t tell me you’re still pissy about that darts game last week.” Ghost doesn’t look at him, his eyes are locked onto your hand Johnny had been holding, something you can’t place in his eyes. “Not mad.” He says simply. Johnny grins—to what you’re not sure, but nonetheless he turns back to you. “You comin’ out with us tonight?”

“Uh, out?” You blink at the question, caught off guard from how quickly the conversations seem to be shifting. One moment he’s introducing himself, telling you his stamina prowess, then Ghost is hovering like a guard dog and now this man is asking you to go hangout with them all for dinner.

Johnny’s grin is almost wicked, like he’s already got your answer. “Yeah, your brother mentioned grabbin’ dinner, maybe a drink or two. Blow off some steam. You should come. Bet you’re the life of the party.” You glance towards your brother, then briefly look behind you to Ghost. “I don’t know… I should probably get back to my dorm, I’ve got an early class tomorrow.” Johnny tilts his head, not missing a beat as if he already knew how you’d respond, and how this conversation would go. “Aye, c’mon now lass, just for a little bit. We’ll keep it civil. I’ll even buy your first round.” A Scottish accent comes through with his determined words.

He throws an arm around your shoulders lazily, jostling you gently against his side as he walks you both down the hallway and towards the living room. You hesitate again, glancing at Ghost but he doesn’t offer any kind of out, his eyes are locked, focused, and deadly narrow on Johnny.

You cave, your resolve clearly not very strong. “....Fine. I’ll do dinner, but I’m passing on drinks, I'll just do one. I don’t want a hangover for my class tomorrow.” Truthfully, it was an excuse to hangout with Ghost before having to go back to your life at college. You feel a pang in your chest, your stay was just for the weekend, but you liked being with them. With him.

Johnny moves from hanging onto you, clapsing his hands together triumphantly. “That’s what I like to hear.” He flops down to sit on the couch, pulls out his phone, a cheeky grin on his face as he reads whatever text was sent to him.

You turn to your brother, who’s sliding his own phone back into his pocket and he gives you a smile. “It’ll be fun. It’ll be my treat, I know you’re a broke college kid and all that.” He laughs and you feel your cheeks flush as you briefly look at Ghost in your peripheral vision. You hold your head up a bit higher, and square your shoulders with confidence. “I am not a broke college student, I simply am responsible with my money.” Your brother shakes his head, clearly not believing you.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

The restaurant is packed, but not chaotic. Music hums low, people chatter over clinking glasses, and the lights are dimmed just enough to blur the sharp edges of the world. Overall, it had a warm, inviting atmosphere and the delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen had you practically salivating.

You nurse your drink quietly, sitting next to your brother. Soap and Ghost sit across, Ghost’s body angled outward in the booth, ever the perimeter watcher. Johnny keeps trying to make you laugh, and it’s working more than you want to admit.

“So there I was–midair, parachute halfway open, and the daft bastard still thought it was a good idea to throw a smoke grenade.” Johnny regales his story and you laugh again, covering your mouth. “Sounds like you’re the daft bastard,” you tease, sipping your drink. “Probably,” he agrees, grinning wide. Ghost shifts in the booth. You glance at him and find him already watching you. He hasn’t touched his drink, and hasn’t said much since you all arrived at the restaurant. You feel heat bloom in your chest, knowing it isn’t the drink. His eyes leave you to go back to watching the restaurant.

You clear your throat, allowing your drink to be the liquid courage for your incoming question. “So, Johnny, do you have a callsign like Ghost does?” You ask. Johnny grins and nods, buttering a small piece of bread. “They call me Soap.” He says proudly, popping the buttered bread into his mouth.

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Soap? That’s what you chose?” “Didn’t choose it,” he says, half-chewing through his grin to you. “It chose me.” Your brother interjects, “You don’t choose your callsign, you earn it.” You lean your elbow on the table, chin in hand, intrigued now. “Okay, now I have to know.”

Ghost grunts, and your brother groans, but they both say in unison. “Here we go again.”

Johnny wipes his mouth with his napkin, then sits back with the posture of someone gearing up to give a performance. “So–first year on the taskforce, right? I’m fresh outta trainin’, cockier than hell, still think I’m bulletproof. We get sent out for a joint-op with another unit, and Lt here tells us to keep it clean and tight. No mistakes, no showboating. Just in, out, and home for dinner.”

You smirk, “Let me guess… you made a mess?”

“Better,” he says, holding up a finger for dramatic flare. “I made art. Cleared the entire floor of a bomb-rigged warehouse faster than you’d ever seen. Nothin’ but a handful of C4, some fishin’ wire, and a few bars of military-issued soap I found in a locker room.”

“You weaponized soap?” you ask him, moreso in half disbelief at his story. “Deadly hygiene.” He replies, tapping his temple. “What can I say? I’m resourceful.” “More like a menace.” Your brother mutters jokingly into his drink, taking a swig as he pulls out his phone. “A charming one,” Johnny adds with a wink sent your way.

Ghost exhales slowly through his nose, fingers drumming lightly on the table’s edge. His body hasn’t moved, but you can tell–he’s paying close attention now.

You smile, sitting up straighter again and take a sip from your drink. You look around the table at them, “Okay, so Soap gets his name from blowing up a building with actual soap. Got it. What about you, Ghost? What’s your origin story?” Your eyes slide to Ghost, who remains motionless. His finger still. His eyes moving to you with an unreadable expression in them.

“You ever seen him clear a hallway?” Johnny cuts in before Ghost can answer you, “It’s like watchin’ death stalk in real-time. Quiet. Fast. You blink, and five guys hit the floor. Never hear or see him comin’. Think that’s how the name stuck.” You glance at Ghost again, lips parted like you’re about to push further–but then Johnny leans in with a grin. “‘Ghost’ is far more intimidating when your real name is—”

Ghost’s head snaps toward him. “Johnny.” Just his name. Sharp. Flat. Enough weight behind it to bring the entire table to a standstill.

Your brother looks up from his phone, eyes flicking between them. Johnny freezes, “Right,” He says quickly, clearing his throat. “Just sayin’, it’s a good codename. Fitting.” Tossing another piece of bread into his mouth Ghost doesn’t take his eyes off him.

You stare at Ghost now, curiosity flickering behind your lashes. You’ve never heard him say his real name. Your brother won’t ever tell you, always says if he wants you to know, you’d know. You never dared to ask outright.

The silence lingers for a moment too long. Then your brother chuckles awkwardly, nudging Johnny with his foot under the table. “You always do this. Nearly start a story you can’t finish.”

You join in the laugh mainly to help ease the tension, but your eyes drift back to Ghost. He’s no longer watching Johnny. He’s looking at you. And not in the casual, across-the-table way. He’s watching you. Studying you like you’re part of the perimeter now. Something he has to track. You blink away from his staring and look down at your drink.

Conversation picks up again, your brother asking Johnny about the worst injury he’s seen or received while on training exercises. You tune in and out, distracted by the weight of Ghost’s presence from across from you, concerned you possibly offended him. Johnny and your brother move on from wounds to some new movie Johnny watched recently, something with explosives and how it’s stupid, and your brother immediately jumps in with his own rant about plot holes.

After what feels like forever, the waitress comes around with your orders and everyone eases back into relaxed, casual conversations as you all eat.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Outside, the air hits cool and crisp against your skin. The soft glow of the restaurant windows pooling a warm yellow light onto the sidewalk around you. The street is quiet, save for the occasional car, the distant hum of traffic further downtown, and the low murmur of people tucked away inside.

Ghost stands just beyond the door slightly into the alleyway, partially shadowed by the overhanging awning, smoking a cigarette. He doesn’t acknowledge your approach but you know he heard you by the way his head tilts, just slightly, like he’s been waiting for you. You lean against the brick wall of the restaurant with him, subconsciously mimicking his posture for a moment before you catch yourself.

“They’re still inside?” He asks after a moment, taking a drag off his cigarette. “Yeah,” you say, rubbing your arms to keep warm from the slight chill in the air, “Arguing about who’s tipping more, I think.” That earns a huff from him, maybe a laugh. You can’t quite tell, but the edge of shoulders shift like it might be.

You rub your hands together, eyes drifting down the alleyway. “Hey,” you say after a moment. “Back there. At the table. I wasn’t trying to pry.”

“I know.”

“I just…” You hesitate, worried if maybe bringing it up again is a bad idea, but the urge to explain yourself is stronger. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He turns to look at you then. Not just a glance, or a side-eye of acknowledgment—he really looks. You don’t know what he sees in your face, but something settles in him. “You didn’t.”

Your breath curls out in a faint cloud between you. You nod once, but your heart starts picking up against your ribs. You can’t read him, never can really, and still it’s impossible for you to look away. You rub your arms again, more self-consciously now, rather than being chilly. Ghost’s eyes dip to your arms. He tosses his cigarette onto the pavement, stepping on it and shrugs himself out of his jacket before holding it out to you.

“You don’t have to do that, you’ll get cold.” You say, but he only opens it up to you in response. “I run hot, remember?” He says, voice low. You feel a small blush creep into your cheeks and slowly put his jacket on as he holds it for you. Once both arms are in, he has you face him and zips the jacket up, fingers resting on the zipper just below your chin. He watches you closely, watches how your lips part ever so slightly as you look up at him with that soft, doe-eyed expression he can’t get enough of.

He watches you for another second before shifting his stance so he’s leaning against the brick wall again, arms to his sides nonchalantly, casual. You wrap your arms around yourself, silently relishing the warmth of his jacket and the smell of him on it.

The words come quietly.

“It’s Simon.”

Your mind blanks for a beat. “What?”

He glances off toward the curb of the sidewalk. “My name. It’s Simon.” The way he says it–flat and unceremonious—but also like he’s offering you a secret and doesn’t want to make a thing of it. But it is a thing.

You stare at him, lips parted, heart thudding in a different rhythm now. “...Simon,” you repeat, voice barely above a whisper. You feel the name settle in your chest. Heavy. Careful. Real.

His eyes flick back to you. He’d never admit it, but he loves how it sounds coming from you.

“I don’t tell people.” He says simply. You nod, as if to imply your solidarity to his secret. “I won’t.”

Another moment of silence passes. It’s not tense, nor awkward, just full of something… new blossoming between you two.

Shifting your weight between your feet, you toe at the pavement, soft smile on your lips as you look at your shoes. “Thank you. For trusting me.”

He hums low in his chest. “Don’t make me regret it.” You give him a cheeky smile, bumping his shoulder gently as you step just a little closer to him. “No promises.”

That earns you a look from him. Something unreadable in his dark, brown eyes but soft. Something like warmth. You briefly look between your hands, subtly brushing your fingers against his but he returns the gesture–you slip your pinky finger to interlock with his own. His eyes flick between your pinky promise, and then back to your face. He doesn’t let go, though, and you swear he gives you a soft smile back by how his eyes crease in the corners behind his mask.

You bite your lip in thought, he tilts his head–curious, maybe cautious–before you lean up on your tiptoes, steadying yourself with a hand on his chest, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to his covered cheek.

You’ve barely stepped back when your brother and Johnny swing open the restaurant door, your brother’s voice carrying into the night as he and Johnny continue arguing over the tip. Neither of them stop, they don’t even glance back, still bickering as they walk ahead knowing you both will follow behind them as they banter back and forth with one another.

You spare another glance at Ghost–at Simon as you both step in line together behind your brother and Johnny. He doesn’t correct you when you whisper his name once more under your breath, just so he can hear, just to feel it on your tongue.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *

Taglist (open!) : @scaleniusrm, @rafaelacallinybbay, @hadassery, @archy25, @jjkittenbinder, @fertilise-me, @bubbyprincesse, @tessakate, @motzglorp, @yummyzenaku, @canyonmooncreations, @succulambb, @ghostinggecko

I hope part 5 was good heheh pls let me know if you like it! it gives me confidence and courage to write tbh plsimSHY if you want on the taglist, inbox/dm/message/comment to me bc i dont want to just assume and then make someone mad pls whatifuthrowrocksatmebcudidntwanttagged?

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mingiatz · 16 hours ago

Text

Y/N is a shy transfer student navigating her first year at a university in Seoul, where everything feels too loud, too fast, and too unfamiliar. Assigned to tutor the campus heartthrob — Mingi, a wildly popular frat boy with a reputation as reckless as his laugh — she expects a headache, not heart flutters. But between chaotic study sessions, frat parties, anime confessions, and quiet snowstorms, something starts to shift. He’s more than just the loud guy in black. And she might be more than just his tutor.

Pairing: Song Mingi (ATEEZ) × Female Reader (Y/N)

Trope(s): College AU, Tutor x Student, Friends-to-Lovers, Opposites Attract, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, First Love Energy™, Plus-Size!Reader, Soft!Fratboy!Mingi supremacy

Genre: Romantic Comedy | Coming-of-Age | Slow Burn with Payoff | Soft Angst with a Happy Ending

Featuring: All ATEEZ members as part of Mingi’s chaotic frat house, Tender male friendships, Low-key commentary on body image, culture shock, and finding belonging

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2

Y/N had never paid much attention to how Mingi moved through campus.

Until now.

Once she started noticing him, it became impossible not to. The way his laugh carried across the courtyard. The way he always wore his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, exposing forearms she had no business staring at. The way he greeted everyone like they were his favorite person in the world.

Mingi didn’t walk — he strolled, like the world was his to exist in, and people just happened to orbit him.

And they did.

Especially girls.

She’d watched them — from a distance, at first. Swarming him like moths to a flame. Flipping their hair, leaning too close, looping arms through his. Sometimes Mingi laughed it off, sometimes he didn’t notice. But most of the time, he smiled. Friendly. Effortless. Familiar.

Like he was used to being wanted.

And why wouldn’t he be?

He was tall, beautiful in that devastatingly boyish way, funny without trying, and — as if that weren’t enough — sweet. He held doors. Walked girls home. Offered you banana milk without asking if you liked it, like he just knew you did.

And Y/N?

She was just the tutor.

The quiet foreign girl with chubby thighs and a nervous laugh and a brain that sometimes got in the way of her feelings.

She wasn’t one of them.

She probably never would be.

She felt stupid for even feeling a certain way about it.

Because he wasn’t hers.

He was her tutor partner. Her friend. Her occasional ride to campus when it snowed. Nothing more.

Except she’d started to wish it was more.

Which was exactly why it hurt when she heard what she did.

The café was crowded, and her drink was taking forever, so she loitered near the pick-up counter, pretending to scroll on her phone. That’s when two girls sat at the table behind her, voices high and sugar-sweet.

“Did you hear about Mingi and Nari?”

“You mean that night? Yeah. She said he was unreal in bed.”

“God, I bet. He’s huge. Like… everywhere.”

“I swear, if I ever get a chance with him—”

Y/N felt her stomach twist.

She didn’t want to care.

She really didn’t.

But something cold and sour settled deep in her chest and refused to leave.

Their next tutoring session started as usual. Mingi greeted her at the door with a grin and a snack bag already opened.

“Okay, I actually studied this time,” he announced proudly, waving his notebook like a flag.

She gave a small nod and sat down.

He blinked. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure? You look like someone told you ramen got banned.”

“I’m fine, Mingi.”

She opened her notebook and pulled out the textbook, avoiding his gaze.

He tilted his head, obviously trying to read her mood. “Okay, uh… let’s do conditional probability then?”

Ten minutes passed. Mingi tried to keep it light—making stupid jokes about dice and hypothetical vampire attacks—but Y/N didn’t bite. She barely responded, just kept writing, eyes never quite meeting his.

He fidgeted in his seat. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No, Mingi.”

“Then what—”

“Can you please just take this seriously for once?”

That made him blink.

She snapped her book shut. “I came here to help, not to babysit. If you don’t want to study, just say so.”

He looked completely thrown. “Wait—what? I am trying.”

“Really?” she said, standing up and grabbing her bag. “Because it doesn’t feel like it.”

Mingi stood too, eyes wide. “Y/N, where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know,” she lied, heart pounding. “Maybe I’m just tired.”

She wasn’t even sure if she meant physically or emotionally.

Before he could stop her, she was halfway to the door.

“Wait,” he said, softer now. “Did something happen?”

She paused, hand on the doorknob.

Her back stayed turned. “I just need to go.”

Then she left—too quickly, too embarrassed, too confused to stay and explain the real reason she was unraveling.

Because deep down, she knew it had nothing to do with probability.

She knew she overreacted.

The moment she slammed the door behind her and felt the cold air sting her cheeks, she knew. But it wasn’t until she was curled up on her bed, hoodie still zipped up and backpack half-unpacked on the floor, that the guilt really settled.

It wasn’t his fault.

Mingi hadn’t done anything wrong.

He hadn’t asked to be the center of her emotional chaos. He hadn’t promised anything. He didn’t even know how twisted her thoughts had become.

All she wanted to do was cry into her pillow and forget how completely idiotic she’d been.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She hesitated before grabbing it.

Mingi [7:18 PM]: Hey. If i did something wrong, i’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just don’t want you to be mad at me.

Her throat tightened.

He was apologizing.

For what? For being himself? For existing in the exact way that had made her fall for him without permission?

She typed slowly, fingers trembling.

You [7:21 PM]: You didn’t do anything. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I just… had a bad day. Please don’t feel bad.

She hit send and then immediately curled up tighter, dragging her blanket up over her face.

“I didn’t come to Korea to fall in love,” she mumbled into her pillow.

Not with a giant, ridiculous, soft-hearted idiot who bought her snacks and waited for her after class and wore hoodies that made her heart race.

“Stupid. So stupid.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. Then another.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” she whispered.

And for the first time since she arrived in Seoul, the loneliness didn’t feel like a foreign ache.

It felt like heartbreak waiting to happen.

Mingi sat on the couch, phone in his lap, eyes glued to the three grey dots that had been blinking on and off for the past two minutes

When the reply finally came in, he read it twice.

She wasn’t mad at him.

But she’d left like she was.

And now he didn’t know what to do with the ache sitting behind his ribs.

“You look like someone kicked your puppy,” Jongho said from across the room.

“I don’t have a puppy.”

“You are the puppy,” Wooyoung added, dropping onto the armrest beside him. “And that pout is tragic.”

San peeked around the doorway. “Did your tutor finally snap and throw a book at you?”

“No,” Mingi mumbled. “She just… left.”

The room went quiet.

Hongjoong looked up from his laptop. “You fought?”

“I don’t think so?” Mingi sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “She just got mad. I mean, not mad-mad, but… upset. I think.”

“Over what?” Seonghwa asked gently.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not like her,” Yeosang said, frowning.

“Exactly.” Mingi slumped down into the cushions. “I tried to joke like usual. She just looked… done. Like I wasn’t taking her seriously.”

“Were you?” San asked.

“I thought I was!” Mingi groaned. “I don’t get it. Everything was fine until suddenly it wasn’t.”

The others exchanged looks but said nothing.

Mingi stared up at the ceiling.

“I don’t want her to be upset because of me.”

Wooyoung gave him a look. “You like her, huh?”

Mingi didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

They all saw it.

What he didn’t know—what he couldn’t figure out—was if she felt the same.

Mingi wasn’t nervous.

He was just… highly alert. Aware. Emotionally caffeinated.

And okay, maybe a little nervous.

He’d cleaned the living room. Twice. Rearranged the snack tray she always reached for. Worn a hoodie he was 80% sure she once said made him look “weirdly soft.”

Not that he cared.

He definitely didn’t care.

Until the door knocked.

And suddenly he cared a lot.

She stood there with her backpack slung over one shoulder, oversized scarf half-eaten by the wind, and her fingers fidgeting with the zipper on her sleeve.

“Hi,” she said, not quite looking at him.

He smiled. “Hey.”

She stepped inside, pulled her shoes off, and stood awkwardly in the entryway.

Mingi shut the door gently.

Then she turned to face him, cheeks already pink.

“I wanted to say sorry. Again. For… the last time.”

He tilted his head. “You already did.”

“I know, but I wasn’t really being honest. I just… I was having a weird week. And I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

She looked up finally, and the second their eyes met, he forgot how to breathe for a second.

Because she looked so flustered. And so sincere.

And entirely too cute for his brain to handle.

He scratched the back of his neck. “It’s okay. Really.”

She gave a tiny smile. “Still. I’m sorry.”

Mingi smiled back. “You’re forgiven. But only if you help me understand how the hell standard deviation works because I swear it’s made up.”

Her laughter broke the tension like a window opening.

And for the first time in days, things felt okay again.

The session started like usual. Her voice soft but steady as she explained concepts. His handwriting messy as ever. But there was something different in the air this time.

A pause that lingered too long.

A brush of fingers when they reached for the same pen.

A glance that held a beat too much meaning.

And Mingi noticed.

Every bit of it.

It happened during a pause. She leaned over to point something out in his notes, one hand braced beside his on the table. Their shoulders touched. Just lightly.

But it sent a shiver down his spine.

He turned toward her without thinking.

And she turned at the same time.

Their faces were close. Too close.

Y/N froze, eyes wide, her breath brushing his lips.

Mingi’s heart thudded loud in his chest.

He could kiss her. Right now.

He wanted to.

But—

He pulled back.

Too fast. Too sharp.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to—uh—yeah.”

She blinked. “It’s okay.”

“Right. Cool. Okay.”

He cleared his throat, stood up, and walked to the other side of the room like he needed air even though he was indoors.

Think, idiot. Say something normal.

“Oh!” he said, turning back. “We’re having another party this weekend. You should come.”

She looked surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, you don’t have to, obviously. But you’re invited. Officially. Like, capital ‘I’ Invited.”

Her lips twitched like she was trying not to smile. “Okay. Maybe.”

“Cool. Yeah. Cool.”

Silence.

Then she returned to the notes, flipping to the next page.

And Mingi sat back down, heart still hammering, trying to figure out if he was relieved or disappointed.

Mingi wasn’t sure when her leaving started to feel like a deadline.

Maybe it was the way she’d said it — offhand, like a reminder while packing her notes after one of their study sessions.

“Next week’s our last official meeting, huh?”

“What?”

“The program ends next Friday.”

She’d said it so casually.

Like it wasn’t about to knock the wind out of him.

He saw her three more times that week.

Each time, she showed up with her laptop, her scribbled notes, and that same scarf she always tugged tighter when she got nervous. Each time, they sat closer. Laughed more. And every time she leaned over to explain something, Mingi’s brain short-circuited a little more.

He tried to play it cool.

He really did.

But it was like… everything about her had become his favorite detail.

The way she hummed softly when reading. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when concentrating. How she always called him “Mingi” in this specific tone when he made a bad joke, like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to scold him or laugh.

She hadn’t brought up the “end of the program” again.

But Mingi couldn’t stop thinking about it.

By the time the night of the party rolled around, he was a mess of nerves disguised in cologne and a slightly-too-tight black shirt.

The music was already pounding. The main room was full. Someone had brought a fog machine again, which was a terrible idea but now a tradition. Hongjoong was DJing. San was dancing like he had no bones. Jongho was judging everyone with a drink in hand.

And Mingi?

Mingi was staring at the door.

Waiting.

“She’s not here yet?” Seonghwa asked, appearing at his side.

“No.”

Seonghwa handed him a drink. “You’ve been staring at the door for twenty minutes.”

Mingi took the cup but didn’t sip. “I invited her.”

“I figured.”

“I don’t know if she’ll come.”

Seonghwa gave him a look. “You know this isn’t just about the party.”

Mingi sighed, rubbing his thumb over the rim of the cup. “She said the program ends next week.”

“It does.”

“She hasn’t said anything about seeing each other after that.”

“Have you?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should.”

Mingi looked at him. “I think I like her.”

Seonghwa smirked. “You think?”

“I—” Mingi huffed. “Okay. I do. I like her. A lot.”

“And?”

“I don’t know. I want to tell her. But I don’t want to ruin it. What if I tell her, and she ghosts me? Or feels weird? Or—”

“Or,” Seonghwa said gently, “what if she’s just waiting for you to say something first?”

Mingi didn’t answer.

He just looked back at the door.

And hoped.

She’d told herself it was nothing.

That it would pass.

That once the tutoring program ended, everything would go back to normal.

Except… she didn’t want it to.

Mingi had become something like gravity in her life. Constant, pulling her in no matter how much she tried to resist it. His smile, his ridiculous jokes, the way he always noticed when she was off — it had all tangled around her so gently she hadn’t even realized she was caught.

And now?

She couldn’t untangle herself if she tried.

But he would never like her like that.

Not when he could have anyone. And most days, it looked like he already did. Girls were always around him, laughing a little too loud, leaning in a little too close. She’d seen him smile at them, chat like it was easy. He was warm, magnetic, and just so much—and she was…

Just her.

Too quiet. Too foreign. Too soft in places Korea didn’t like.

And still, she’d fallen for him.

Hard.

So she made herself a deal.

She would go to the party.

Tell him how she felt.

And then walk away.

It would be over soon anyway.

One more study session. One last goodbye.

Better to just say it now — before she chickened out.

Getting ready took too long.

She tried on four outfits. All of them ended up in a pile on her bed. She settled on a soft sweater that hugged her figure and a flowy skirt that hit mid-thigh. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t flashy. But it was her. And it felt cute.

That was enough.

She fixed her hair. Put on lip gloss. Took a deep breath in the mirror and muttered, “Don’t be a coward.”

Then she left.

The frat house was buzzing when she arrived. Lights glowing through the windows. Music pulsing underfoot. She almost turned around twice before reaching the steps.

But she didn’t.

And the second she stepped inside, the warmth of the party hit her — noise, chatter, movement.

And then—

“Mingi.”

He saw her immediately.

His face lit up like someone flipped a switch.

She couldn’t help the way her breath caught.

Because he didn’t just smile — he beamed.

And then he started walking toward her, weaving through the crowd like she was the only person in the room.

Her heart flipped.

It did a full somersault when she realized his eyes were locked on hers the entire way. Like he hadn’t seen anyone else.

And God—his shirt.

Tight black cotton that clung to his chest and arms like it was barely holding on. His hair slightly messy, like he’d run his hands through it too many times.

She felt butterflies explode in her stomach, fluttering so violently it made her want to bolt.

But she stayed.

He stopped in front of her, grinning like she’d just made his whole night.

“You came.”

“You invited me.”

“Yeah,” he said, eyes softening. “But I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I almost didn’t,” she admitted.

“I’m glad you did.”

She bit her lip.

His eyes flicked there, just for a second.

And suddenly the music was too loud. The lights too dim. And her confession — the one she’d been practicing in her head for days — felt like it was caught in her throat.

But this was it.

She just had to say it.

One time.

And then she’d let it go.

She’d meant to tell him.

She really had.

But then she saw his smile — that brilliant, boyish smile that lit up the whole damn room — and her brain completely short-circuited.

Just like that, every practiced line, every late-night drafted version of her confession vanished.

And all she could do was smile back.

Because it hit her, in that moment — something so terrifyingly soft:

If this is the last time, I just want to enjoy it.

So she didn’t say anything.

Didn’t confess.

Didn’t ruin it.

Instead, she let herself stand there, soaking in the way he looked at her like she belonged in the crowd. Like she was worth noticing in a room full of prettier, louder, thinner girls. Like she was the only one who mattered.

And for now… that was enough.

God, she looked good.

Cute, obviously. She was always cute.

But tonight? There was something else. Something different. The skirt, the soft sweater, the way her hair curled around her cheeks, slightly flushed from the cold — it short-circuited his brain, too.

He wanted to stare forever.

But instead, he tried to act normal. Which, apparently, meant becoming a one-man comfort committee.

“Are you warm enough?”

“You want a drink? I’ll get it.”

“Don’t stand here. Come sit. You want to sit? C’mon, you’ll like the couch.”

She laughed and let herself be guided to the corner sofa, nestled safely between two armchairs. San gave Mingi a knowing look. Mingi ignored him.

“I’ll be right back,” he said to her, and she nodded with a soft smile that absolutely murdered him on the spot.

He weaved through the crowd toward the drink table, heart thudding, brain trying to remember how to mix anything at all. He was still deciding between soda and something stronger when a girl stepped up beside him.

“Hey, Mingi.”

He glanced over. Short skirt. Long lashes. Familiar face from his sociology class, maybe.

“Oh. Hey.”

“You’re looking good tonight.”

He offered a polite smile. “Thanks. You too.”

She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “I heard you’re single.”

Mingi blinked. “Um. I guess?”

“You guess?”

He laughed awkwardly. “I’m not really… dating right now.”

“Right,” she said, smile widening. “Just hanging out.”

Before he could reply, she picked up two cups and followed him back toward the sofa.

He sat down next to Y/N and handed her the drink he’d made. The other girl dropped onto the other side of him, way too close, practically draping herself across the cushions.

“So who’s this?” she asked, looking at Y/N with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Y/N stiffened.

Mingi opened his mouth to introduce her, but Y/N beat him to it.

“Just a friend,” she said quickly, taking a small sip of her drink.

“Oh,” the girl replied, voice syrupy. “That’s cute.”

Mingi frowned.

Something about her tone rubbed him the wrong way.

But then he heard San yell something about spilled wine and napkins.

“I’ll be right back,” Mingi said, getting up from the couch. “Someone spilled something on the table—I’ll grab some napkins before it spreads.”

Y/N gave him a small nod, wrapping both hands around her drink as she watched him disappear into the kitchen.

The girl beside her shifted, angling her body toward Y/N.

“You’re cute,” she said, smiling. “Really brave, coming here.”

Y/N blinked. “…Thanks?”

The girl sipped her drink and leaned in a little closer, voice soft but sharp.

“I mean, it’s kind of sweet. You must really believe in fairytales or something.”

Y/N’s stomach turned.

The girl tilted her head, feigning innocence. “But let’s be real. Guys like Mingi don’t usually go for girls like you.”

Before Y/N could respond—or crumble—another voice cut through.

“Excuse me?” Yeosang.

He’d walked past just in time to catch it. His tone was deceptively calm, but his eyes were cold.

“I didn’t mean it like—” the girl began.

“You meant it exactly like that,” he snapped.

Seonghwa appeared a moment later, his gaze sweeping over the scene with quiet understanding.

“I think you should go,” he said to the girl, voice even but laced with finality.

The girl faltered, then rolled her eyes and walked off, heels clicking against the floor.

Yeosang turned to Y/N. “You okay?”

Y/N stared at her drink.

“She’s right,” she said quietly. “It’s fine.”

“Y/N—” Seonghwa started.

“She’s right,” Y/N repeated, standing slowly. “Mingi would never look at someone like me like that. It’s not a big deal. I should go.”

Yeosang reached out, but she was already pulling away.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “But I’m fine.”

Neither of them believed her.

And neither of them tried to stop her as she walked out the front door and into the cold, her chest heavier than the night air.

Mingi returned to the sofa with a handful of napkins, ready to wipe up the spill and settle back into whatever this was becoming between him and Y/N.

But she wasn’t there.

Instead, the flirty girl from earlier was sprawled in her spot, twirling her hair and smirking up at him.

He blinked. “Where’d Y/N go?”

The girl shrugged, her smile too smug. “No idea. Guess she didn’t feel like competing.”

Mingi’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“You know,” she said, inching closer. “It’s kinda cute that you let her hang around. Makes you look nice.”

He stepped back slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Mingi.” She laughed, like it was all some joke. “Are you really into chubby little gremlins like that? Or is this some weird frat charity thing?”

Everything in him went quiet.

Dead quiet.

And then something in his chest snapped.

“Get the fuck away from me.”

The girl blinked, startled. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t repeat it. Just glared, jaw tight, eyes hard.

Her smirk wavered. “Wow. Over her?”

Mingi’s gaze cut to the corner of the couch — and his heart dropped lower.

Y/N’s coat was still there.

She left without it.

Without him.

Shit.

He shoved the napkins into the girl’s hands without another word, snatched the coat, and turned on his heel.

Yeosang spotted him in the hall. “You okay?”

“Did she say anything to Y/N?”

Yeosang hesitated. “…Yeah.”

“What did she say?”

Yeosang’s jaw clenched. “Enough.”

Mingi didn’t wait for more.

He was already out the door.

The night air hit him like a slap — sharp and biting. He scanned the street, heart racing, eyes flicking between shadowed corners and passing figures.

Nothing.

He turned the corner.

Still nothing.

Another street. Then another.

And then—

There.

A block ahead, just past the intersection.

Her shoulders were hunched. Her steps slow. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself, clearly freezing.

And coatless.

Mingi took off running.

“Y/N!”

She didn’t turn.

“Y/N!”

This time she paused — just enough for him to catch up.

Panting, breath misting in the air, he reached out and gently caught her arm.

“You forgot your coat,” he said, holding it out like a peace offering.

She stared at him, wide-eyed, cheeks red from wind and something else.

“Mingi—”

“You left without saying anything.”

Her expression crumpled.

He held out the coat again. “You’re freezing.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

She didn’t take it, so he carefully stepped closer and wrapped it around her shoulders himself.

“Why did you leave?” he asked softly.

She looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.“

He told her it mattered.

Those words echoed in her chest like a heartbeat she didn’t know was hers.

“It matters to me.”

It shouldn't have meant so much. But it did.

Because for a second—just one, stupid second—it made her think there was a chance. That maybe all the moments she thought she imagined between them were real.

That maybe she wasn’t crazy.

That maybe Mingi… liked her.

But reality was faster than hope.

And sharper.

She looked away before he could see too much. Before her face betrayed the small, desperate flicker in her chest that was already trying to grow.

“Thanks,” she mumbled. “For bringing me my coat.”

He didn’t say anything.

She pulled the fabric tighter around herself and took a step back. “You should probably get back to your party. Your… friend is probably waiting.”

“Friend?”

“The girl. The one who said—” She cut herself off, biting the inside of her cheek. “Never mind.”

She turned to go.

But his voice caught her mid-step.

“I don’t want to go back if you’re not there.”

She froze.

Wind tugged at the hem of her coat. Her fingers clenched the fabric tighter.

“Y/N.”

She turned her head slightly, just enough to see him. His breath was misting in the air. His brows were pulled together, his lips slightly parted like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

“I like spending time with you,” he said. “It’s not fun if you’re not there.”

And that—

That broke her.

Because he didn’t sound like he was just trying to make her feel better.

He sounded like he meant it.

Her shoulders dropped.

She turned fully, tears stinging at her eyes, throat closing before she could stop it.

“Mingi,” she said quietly, voice cracking. “Don’t say things like that.”

He blinked. “Why not?”

“Because…” She swallowed. “Because it makes me hopeful.”

He stepped closer.

She took a small step back.

“It makes me think you might like me too,” she whispered. “And I know that’s stupid, okay? I know you don’t. But when you say stuff like that…”

She pressed a hand over her heart like it could hold it together.

“…it hurts.”

And for the first time since they met, she let herself look at him with everything she was feeling written all over her face.

Raw. Vulnerable. Exposed.

If he didn’t feel the same, she’d survive.

But she couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t hurt when he said things that made her feel like maybe—just maybe—he did.

He hadn’t expected her to say it.

Not like that. Not with that soft, breaking voice. Not with those wide, watery eyes that looked like she was bracing for pain.

“Because it makes me hopeful… it makes me think you might like me too…”

She looked like she was waiting for a rejection.

Like she was already trying to swallow it.

And Mingi—

Mingi could barely breathe.

Because all this time, he’d been the one holding it in. Hiding it in jokes. Burying it under study notes and casual texts. Letting himself believe she couldn’t possibly feel the same.

But she did.

She liked him.

And she thought it was stupid.

His heart stuttered.

He opened his mouth—tried to form words—but nothing came out fast enough.

And then—

“It’s okay,” she said, voice quieter now, as she turned away. “I’ll see you next Friday. For the last session.”

She started walking.

Like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn’t just cracked her chest open in front of him and offered her heart on trembling hands.

Mingi blinked once—twice—

Then lunged after her.

“Y/N, wait!”

She stopped, but didn’t turn around.

He caught up to her, stepping in front of her this time. Blocking her path, heart pounding so loud he could barely hear his own voice.

“I like you,” he said.

She froze.

Mingi took a breath. Then another.

“I like you,” he repeated, more solidly this time. “I’ve liked you for months.”

Her eyes lifted, lips parted, stunned.

“I just…” He laughed once, breathless. “I didn’t think you felt the same. I thought I was just… the guy you had to tutor. Or maybe just a friend.”

“You’re not just anything,” she whispered.

Mingi stepped closer, gently brushing her hair back from her face.

“I thought you were too good for me,” he said. “Like, way out of my league.”

She let out a disbelieving breath. “You’re Mingi.”

“Exactly,” he grinned. “I’m a disaster.”

She laughed, half a sob caught in the sound, and Mingi felt the whole world shift around them.

He reached for her hand—slowly, carefully—and she let him.

And for a moment, they just stood there.

Breathing in the same cold air. Hearts exposed. Futures uncertain.

But hands finally held.

Together.

He didn’t let go of her hand.

Not when she looked at him like he was someone she’d only just started to see.

Not when the air between them buzzed with something fragile and new.

And especially not when she gave his fingers the slightest squeeze back.

Mingi smiled, cheeks flushed, heart so full it felt like it could lift him off the ground.

“Let me walk you home,” he said, still holding her hand. “It’s freezing.”

She nodded silently, still a little dazed, like she was walking in a dream.

They started moving slowly through the quiet street, her hand tucked warm in his, and Mingi felt like everything had shifted — like he wasn’t just some guy anymore. Like she wasn’t just some girl he thought about more than he should’ve.

Like this was real now.

A few minutes passed in silence — peaceful, but full of unspoken things. He could tell she was still sorting through what just happened.

Then, suddenly, she spoke.

“Why?”

Mingi glanced at her. “Hm?”

She didn’t look at him when she asked, “Why would you fall for someone like me?”

He stopped walking.

“Wait—what?”

She finally turned, expression soft but uncertain, like she wasn’t trying to fish for compliments — like she truly didn’t get it.

And that broke him a little.

“What do you mean?” he asked gently.

“I just…” she trailed off, shrugging a little. “I don’t look like the girls you usually talk to. I’m not confident like them, or cool, or… I don’t know. I’m not really—”

“Stop.”

Mingi’s voice was quiet but firm. His thumb brushed gently along her knuckles.

“I don’t think you get it,” he said, looking straight at her. “I didn’t fall for you despite who you are. I fell for you because of it.”

She blinked.

“I like that you’re honest,” he said. “That you’re thoughtful. That you actually listen when people talk.”

He took a step closer, still holding her hand.

“I like that you’re funny — not loud funny, but the kind of funny that sneaks up on people and catches them off guard. Like that time you roasted me in statistics and didn’t even realize it.”

She smiled a little at that.

“I like how you get all focused when you’re explaining something — your eyebrows scrunch, and you wave your hands around like you’re conducting a damn orchestra.”

She laughed, surprised, and that sound wrecked him in the best way.

“I like your laugh,” he said. “And the way you look when you’re trying not to.”

Her smile started to fade — not in a bad way, but like it was melting into something softer. Something vulnerable.

“And I like your hair,” he added, quieter now. “It always looks soft. I think about touching it more than I should.”

Her breath caught.

“I like how smart you are. I like how you make me want to be smarter.”

He swallowed, heart thudding.

“And I like how you make me feel.”

She was staring at him now. Eyes wide, lips parted, barely breathing.

“You make me feel like…” He let out a small, almost helpless laugh. “Like I’m not just some guy in a frat house.”

Y/N looked at him like he was a sunrise.

Like she didn’t know what to do with any of this.

So Mingi did the only thing his heart could manage.

He leaned in.

And kissed her.

Soft. Careful. Gentle.

Her lips were warm. She tasted like the lingering hint of cherry soda. She didn’t move for a second — frozen in shock.

Then she kissed him back.

Just once.

And it was perfect.

Their lips parted, but Mingi didn’t move far.

He kept her close — so close their foreheads touched, warm breath mingling in the winter air.

His hand gently brushed her cheek, thumb tracing the edge like it was the most precious thing he’d ever touched.

She looked at him like she still couldn’t believe this was real.

So he told her again.

Softly. Honestly. Everything that mattered.

“I like the way you see the world,” he whispered, eyes half-lidded. “You notice things other people don’t. Like how you always remember when one of the guys says they’ve got a test coming up… or how you bring snacks without being asked.”

His fingers moved gently, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“I like how you treat people. Even when they don’t deserve it.”

Her breath hitched.

“I like the way you talk about home. You always sound like you miss it, but like you’re proud too.”

She blinked quickly, and he saw it — the shimmer in her eyes. The way her chest rose like she was holding something in.

“And I like your voice,” he said. “Especially when you’re sleepy. You don’t even know how soft it gets.”

She let out a tiny laugh, barely there.

Mingi smiled.

“I could keep going,” he murmured. “I will, if you let me.”

She nodded.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Keep going.”

And he did.

Right there under the streetlight, hand on her cheek, forehead resting against hers — he gave her every reason he’d fallen, one after another.

Because she deserved to know.

Because he’d been holding it in for too long.

And because finally — finally — she believed him.

They didn’t say much on the walk back.

Mingi kept her hand in his the whole time, humming a little under his breath, smiling like a fool.

Y/N couldn’t stop glancing at him from the corner of her eye. He was tall and broad and so completely there, walking beside her like they’d done this a thousand times.

When they reached her building, she hesitated outside the door, thumb brushing over her keys.

“You wanna come up?” she asked softly, peeking up at him through her lashes.

Mingi’s head shot up like a puppy hearing a treat bag crinkle. “Really?”

She nodded.

His grin grew impossibly wide. “Only if I get to cuddle you to death.”

Y/N laughed — loud and unfiltered — and that only made Mingi look more pleased with himself.

“Come on, dork,” she said, unlocking the door.

Her place was small but warm — a mix of old posters, fairy lights, and a faint vanilla scent she hoped he liked.

“Here,” she said, tugging a drawer open. “These should fit you.”

She handed him a black oversized tee and a pair of grey joggers that used to belong to her cousin.

Without hesitation, Mingi peeled his hoodie off, then his shirt.

Right there. In her room.

Y/N blinked.

And blinked again.

Oh.

He was built.

Muscles under soft skin, broad shoulders, that dip where his waist narrowed — and absolutely zero shame.

He noticed her staring and smirked a little. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she squeaked, turning around way too fast. “Totally fine. Not combusting at all.”

Mingi chuckled behind her, clearly enjoying himself.

“Okay,” he said after pulling the shirt on. “Now come here.”

They curled up on her bed, under the fluffiest blanket she owned. Mingi clicked through his phone and pulled up a K-drama.

“This one’s kind of ridiculous,” he said. “But I love it.”

Y/N didn’t really care what they watched.

All she could think about was how warm his arms felt around her, how steady his breathing was behind her ear, how his hand lazily traced circles against her side.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured.

She made a sound — half laugh, half flustered whimper — and tried to hide her face in the blanket.

“No hiding,” Mingi said, nuzzling into her hair. “You’re mine now.”

Her heart stuttered.

He kissed her temple.

Then her cheek.

Then the tip of her nose.

And then — slowly, sweetly — her lips again.

He kept kissing her between sentences like he couldn’t help himself.

“I like you so much.”

Kiss

“I still can’t believe you like me back.”

Kiss

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me.”

Kiss

“Mingi,” she whispered, smiling too much to stop it.

He tucked her closer to his chest, resting his chin on top of her head.

They stayed like that, tangled and quiet, the drama flickering in the background and neither of them really paying attention.

Then, just as her eyes started to drift shut, she heard his voice again — softer, sleepier now.

“Hey…”

“Mm?”

“…Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?”

Y/N opened her eyes slowly, turning her head enough to look at him.

His lashes were fluttering, cheeks pink, expression hopeful and half-asleep.

She smiled.

“I’d love that,” she whispered.

Mingi let out a long, content sigh, tightened his hold around her, and buried his nose into her hair.

And just like that—

They fell asleep.

Wrapped in each other.

Warm.

Happy.

Home.

Mingi didn’t want to move.

Sunlight was starting to peek through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room, and Y/N was still curled into him, one arm tucked under her cheek, the other slung across his waist. Her breathing was slow and steady, lashes fluttering just slightly like she was deep in a dream.

And Mingi just… watched.

Not in a creepy way. In a can’t-believe-this-is-real way.

Her bed smelled like vanilla and shampoo and something sweet that made him never want to leave.

But his phone buzzed.

He groaned and reached over carefully without waking her, squinting at the screen.

Joongie 💢 “Frat cleanup at 10. If you don’t show, it’s toilet duty for a week.”

Mingi scowled and tossed the phone gently onto the nightstand.

No way was he leaving without saying goodbye.

Instead, he settled back down next to her, wrapping his arm more tightly around her middle. She shifted slightly, nestling even closer, her nose brushing his collarbone.

And then — softly — she stirred.

“Mingi?” she mumbled.

He smiled and brushed her hair back from her face. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

She blinked at him, bleary-eyed and adorable. “You’re still here.”

“Of course I’m still here.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “You think I’d sneak out on my girlfriend the morning after our first cuddle marathon?”

She let out a little laugh. “Fair point.”

“I have to head back soon,” he said reluctantly. “The guys are doing a cleaning thing, and apparently my presence is mandatory if I want to avoid toilet duty.”

“Ew,” she said, scrunching her nose. “Okay, yeah, go.”

He laughed, then cupped her cheek gently, kissing her once — and then again, slower the second time.

“I had a really good night,” he said.

Y/N smiled sleepily. “Me too.”

“Like… stupidly good.”

“You’re just saying that because I let you pick the drama.”

“Okay, that too,” he admitted, grinning. “But mostly because of you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she tucked her face against his chest to hide it.

“I’ll text you when I’m back?” he asked.

She nodded into his shirt. “You better.”

He gave her one last kiss — soft, lingering, pressed against the corner of her mouth — then gently slid out of bed and got dressed.

She stayed curled under the blanket, watching him with a fond smile, and when he looked back at her one last time from the door, she whispered, “Bye, boyfriend.”

Mingi’s heart nearly exploded.

“Bye, girlfriend.”

The frat house smelled like cleaning spray and regret by the time he got back. Mingi floated through the front door with the kind of dopey grin that made Yeosang pause mid-window-wipe.

“Why do you look like you just won the lottery and got kissed by Santa?” he asked flatly.

San turned off the vacuum. “Wait, what did I miss?”

Jongho squinted at him. “You didn’t come home last night.”

Mingi dropped his bag near the stairs and stretched, still glowing. “Yeah.”

Seonghwa emerged from the kitchen, towel over his shoulder. “So? You staying at Y/N’s or something?”

Mingi ran a hand through his hair and bit back a grin.

“She’s my girlfriend now.”

Dead silence.

Then—

“WHAT?!”

Busan was loud, bright, and full of salt-scented air.

Wooyoung had somehow convinced everyone to rent a beach house just outside the city, and it had turned into a mini vacation: full of sand, grilled meat, sunscreen wars, and too much iced coffee.

Y/N sat under a wide umbrella on the beach, her feet buried in the warm sand and a book open in her lap. She hadn’t read a single word.

Because Mingi was currently ten feet away, tossing a frisbee with San and Yeosang, shirtless and laughing in the sunshine.

And it was ridiculous how he still made her heart flip.

“Hey.”

She looked up and saw Mingi jogging toward her, cheeks flushed and hair damp with sweat.

He dropped beside her on the towel, breathless and smiling. “You’re not even watching me.”

“I was absolutely watching you,” she said, closing the book. “I just… also like pretending I’m being productive.”

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I passed.”

Y/N blinked. “Wait, what?”

He grinned. “I just checked my final grades. I passed statistics.”

She squealed and threw her arms around him. “Mingi! That’s amazing!”

“Right?!”

“You were so sure you bombed the final!”

“I was sure I bombed the final.”

She laughed and kissed his temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

He pulled back, eyes sparkling. “You’re the reason I passed, you know.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. I helped. You’re the one who learned it.”

“I would’ve dropped out crying if not for you,” he insisted, tugging her closer until she was practically in his lap.

They stayed like that — wrapped in each other, sun and breeze wrapping around them — until Mingi spoke again.

“I’m glad we came here,” he said, voice softer now. “I feel like I can actually breathe.”

She looked at him, surprised by the shift in tone.

“You okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Just… this past semester sucked, and now it doesn��t. Because you’re here. And I passed. And now I get to kiss my girlfriend in Busan under an umbrella while Wooyoung yells at Jongho for cheating at beach volleyball.”

As if on cue, a loud “You LIED, you absolute menace!” echoed from the court.

Y/N snorted.

Mingi laughed and rested his forehead against hers. “Thanks for believing in me.”

“Always.”

He kissed her then — sweet and warm, tasting like sunblock and soda, full of everything summer was supposed to feel like.

And for a few moments, the world was just them.

The beach house was quiet at night.

The others had trickled off to bed after hours of laughter, s’mores over the grill, and Yeosang’s surprisingly intense card game tournament.

Y/N stepped outside onto the back porch, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, the ocean breeze brushing against her skin. The sound of the waves was soft now — not loud or crashing, just steady.

A door creaked open behind her.

She smiled before even turning around.

“You always find the quiet spots,” Mingi said, padding toward her in his sweats and hoodie.

She held the blanket open wordlessly, and he stepped right into it, curling around her like he’d always belonged there.

They stood in silence for a moment, his chin resting on her shoulder, his arms warm around her waist.

“I was thinking about our first tutoring session,” she said eventually. “You kept asking if you could nap between chapters.”

He huffed a laugh. “You called me a statistical lost cause.”

“You were.”

“I still passed though.”

She leaned back into him. “You did.”

Mingi’s voice lowered, gentler now. “Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if we hadn’t met?”

She was quiet for a second.

“I think I still would’ve learned to love Seoul,” she said, honestly. “But I don’t think I would’ve laughed as much. Or felt this safe.”

He kissed the top of her head.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done,” he admitted. “You slowed me down. In the best way.”

She turned in his arms so they were face to face.

Mingi looked at her like she was the best thing he’d ever been given.

“You made me believe I could actually finish something,” he whispered. “And not just a class.”

She smiled, heart full.

“Next semester’s gonna be insane,” she said.

“Tell me about it.”

“But I’m not as scared anymore.”

He took her hands, lacing their fingers together. “You shouldn’t be. You’re amazing.”

“So are you,” she replied.

Mingi leaned in, pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was less about fireworks and more about anchoring — grounding. Familiar. Home.

When they pulled back, he didn’t let go.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen next year, or the one after that,” he said, voice low. “But if you’re in it, I already know it’s gonna be good.”

Y/N blinked fast.

“Don’t make me cry on a porch like a romcom extra,” she said, laughing softly.

Mingi smiled. “Too late.”

They stood there for a while longer, wrapped in the blanket, listening to the ocean — to the quiet beating of something that felt a lot like forever.

Not flashy.

Not perfect.

But real.

And that was more than enough.

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2

#ateez #8 makes 1 team #ateez fanfic #atzblogging #ateez fanfiction #ateez fic #fanfction ateez #ateez mingi #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #atz fanfic #atz x reader #atz #mingi fanfic #mingi fanfiction #song mingi #mingi #mingi x reader #mingi x y/n

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lyneysnumber1glazer · 10 hours ago

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Would They Confess First?

Characters: DILUC, ITTO, KAEYA, LYNEY, HEIZOU

Prompt: Would they confess to you first? Why/why not and how?

Warnings: None

A/n: I was going to include drabbles for each but instead I think I'm going to make separate oneshots for each since I'd like them to be longer and more in-depth. Also please send in an ask for an idea if you have one!

~~~

DILUC

Yes, however it may take a while. He would hesitate to confess in worry that he may ruin whatever friendship the two of you have. He'd have to be sure that the feeling was mutual before indulging in the idea of confessing. In addition, he would need time in order to be comfortable letting you into his life, being hesitant to after the death of his father.

However when he is ready, he would plan out in detail how he'd want to confess to you. He would prepare your favorite meals and dishes himself and invite you over for dinner. He also may change the decor in the dining hall ever so slightly to fit your tastes. After dinner he would invite you on an evening walk where he would confess with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

ITTO

Absolutely, and he would make it a huge event. To be honest, you would probably know about it along with the whole city before he even confessed. He would talk about you nonstop to the Arataki Gang and they would all plan out how he would confess to you.

He would decorate a whole island with Onikabuto, roasted lavender melons, and flowers (probably picked out of peoples gardens) He'd also put on a grand performance and practically yell out his love for you, the Arataki Gang cheering him on off to the side. Don't be surprised if he starts singing.

KAEYA

Surprisingly no. Firstly, you would need to know about his past and show that you love him regardless. Even if he knew that you loved him he still wouldn't confess. He would feel like you deserve someone better than him, someone who didn't feel the need to hide things about themselves from you. Of course he would never tell you this. Thus you would need to confess to him first and reassure him that he is the one you want, secrets and all.

After you confess to him, he would need some time to think about his emotions. He would struggle accepting that you genuinely loved him and not the charismatic charm he uses. However after some time he would hesitantly accept your confession.

LYNEY

Yes, and he would be sure to make it extra romantic. However he would need to trust you and be close to you beforehand, Lynette would also need to approve of you. He would try to hide it but he would be extremely nervous. Would also probably ask Lynette for advice, she would also need to help calm him down prior.

He would meet up with you after one of his magic performances at the Fountain of Lucine with a bouquet of rainbow roses. Even though he would put on a smile, you could tell he was nervous by the way he gripped the bouquet and the way his face starts to turn pale. While telling you about how he feels about you, he would stumble over his words. He would also plan what to say to you beforehand but when it actually comes to confessing, he blanks, and his confession would end up sounding more like a marriage proposal. After accepting his confession, he would let out a sigh of relief and visibly relax despite his excitement. (I could see Lynette hiding in the bushes with a Kamera)

HEIZOU

Yes, and he would know if you liked him. With him being a detective he would be able to read peoples emotions scarily well. So he would almost instantly know if you liked him by the way your demeanor slightly changes around him and with the help of his intuition.

At first he would consider taking you to an escape room, however he would decide against it. Instead he would take you somewhere with beautiful scenery and set up a picnic for the two of you. There he would confess his love as the sun was setting with your hands in his. After you accept his confession, he would feel slightly relieved even though he knew you would accept.

#genshin impact #genshin #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #arataki itto #itto #itto x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya #kaeya x reader #lyney #lyney x reader #shikanoin heizou #heizou #heizou x reader

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woundedsoul12 · 21 hours ago

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Short Blurb Sunday

Thank you @elishnord for the tag

This one is for @inquisimer

More kiss week Shenanigans. Let's have a look at day 4

It started innocently enough, as many things do. A life in the Necropolis merged well with a life spent studying poisons under the watchful eyes of the Crows. Afternoon discussions as they discovered many similarities. Among them chiefly, a shared love of botany. Of the warmth of fresh loam tilled under to receive new life. The joys of watching their efforts grow into unique beauty. He remembered the first time he gifted her a simple pink iris. An expression he knew she would understand. Crows were learned in all the secret languages, and floriography of course was no exception. “I value your friendship as well,” she grinned as she held the bloom close. Her eyes fluttering closed as she inhaled the flower’s soft scent. Emmrich knowing he was doomed from that moment on. Accepting his fate as his heart fluttered against his ribs. The weeks after were filled with similar gestures. A Pansy for his thoughts here. A daisy of her attachment there. Saying all the things they dare not aloud. With fleeting touches and longing glances.

Soft tagging @himluv @mythals-whore @serensama @tarasmom @hedwigoprah @becausedragonage @davrinsleftpectoral @fenrelmercar @kai-dimir @fiberpunk027 @jenn2d2 @tkwritesdumbassassins @cute-ellyna @brennacedria @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @librivore42 @obsessed-with-book-boyfriends @bonesandivy @notyourmamasdeerbat @griffongrey @master-of-the-elements @chaoslifeforme @carrieing0n @serstolas @beachhotdog @nirikeehan @basedonconjecture @bygonesigh @redheadsramblings @aetherflowers @in-the-drowning-deep @sandcastlekings @mezzomoment @serialsforbellara @libdibs @zennihilation @chaosherald @waxlyricalmoon @grand-crow @thatgaymerguyb @officialnostradamus @dags-over-caravans @babydinosaur930 @rat-spit-village @thrilmalia @guacamolleee @gutz-ingellvar @dialmformud

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #da: the veilguard #dragon age rook #da4 #datv rook #emmrook #emmrich x rook #emmrich volkarin #dragon age emmrich #emmrich the necromancer #da kiss week

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archivesctrccio · 14 hours ago

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nat & a italian gf!

warnings.. none.

words.. 1.2k

✎ᝰ. jinx notes.. okay!! i was supposed to be working on the short n sweet special, but i had this idea and i HAD to do it (it will probably be a series...)😭😭 and yes!! natalie scatorccio would definitely have a diary. (i dont know why it was tagged adult content?)

— Natalie Scatorccio never thought she'd find someone with the same earth beneath their feet and the same language in their bones at that random suburban high school. But then, in the middle of sophomore year, you appeared. With intense eyes, almost brazen beauty, and an Italian accent so strong it made something inside her tremble. It was like hearing a memory.

— She spent weeks just watching you, not with desire, but with a strange longing, as if you were a piece of something she had forgotten. wondered how to start a conversation, how to say a simple "ciao" without seeming needy. But when she finally got the courage, she stumbled over her words as if she were learning to speak again. She said two or three jumbled sentences, stopped, blushed, and simply walked away. You stood there, blinking, confused... and enchanted. There was something about her that pulled you in, like an invisible rope. And you decided you'd give her another chance to try.

—When Natalie first entered your home, it was like walking through a portal. Gilded paintings, antique sepia portraits of Sicilian bisnonos, an Italian coffee pot bubbling on the stove, and your little brother screaming "Mamma, dove sono le mie scarpe?"("Mom, where are my shoes?”) from his bedroom. The smell of sauce was in the air. Natalie felt almost painfully out of place. There was nothing like that in her house anymore. no photos, no voices mixing Italian and English. She couldn't even remember what the language sounded like in her own mouth.

— The friendship blossomed quickly. Natalie laughed affectionately whenever you messed up, and your accent deepened, more singsong, when you got nervous. You would mix Italian words into the middle of your sentence without realizing it, and it made Natalie feel something very close to home — or what she imagined home should be like.

— After class, you hid from the world in your living room, among notebooks, dictionaries, and mugs of tea, with you reteaching her Italian. It was like giving back pieces of her soul that she didn't even know she had lost.

— When Natalie realized she was falling in love with you, her first reaction was absurd and involuntary: a thought that came from some ancestor whispering in her blood — "If we stay together, we keep the Italian blood alive." She laughed at that, but kept the idea like a locket. The truth is, she had already chosen you.

— You, on the other hand, fell in love the exact moment she, all embarrassed, tried to strike up a conversation for the first time. There was something about that vulnerability that completely disarmed you.

— The proposal was simple, but full of gesture. Natalie spent the whole month saving up to take you to a real Italian restaurant— with checkered tablecloths and waiters who said “buona sera”(Good evening). After dinner, she took you to the beach, her palms sweating and her heart pounding. She asked you to make love to her there, to the sound of the waves, as if the sea were her accomplice. You almost cried, because yes, it was obvious it was love.

— Your parents were enchanted by her. She was different, but she spoke to your grandparents in the right language, helped wash the dishes without anyone asking, and laughed at the old jokes that only real Italians understand. She started having lunch with you every Sunday, as if she had always been a part of it.

— Sometimes you were in charge of lunch. Natalie would come home and find you in the kitchen: hair tied up messily, flour in your nose, cutting fresh pasta with your little brother beside you, helping you and laughing out loud. It was a scene from a movie. And Natalie, standing in the doorway, looked at you as if she were looking at home. Not the home she lost—but the one she was building with you.

— When you started dating, Natalie started writing you notes in Italian and leaving them in your coat pockets. Little things, like “sei la mia fortuna”(“you are my luck”) or “oggi sembri il sole”(“today you look like the sun”). One day, she left one with “mi mancherai anche domani”(I will miss you tomorrow too”), even though she knew she would see you the next day.

— You had a tradition of cooking something Italian together every Saturday, even if it was a mess. Pizza, gnocchi, tiramisu. Natalie pretended to hate it when you got flour all over her, but it was just an excuse to playfully fight and then steal a kiss from you.

— In the car, you always fought over whether to listen to '90s punk or Laura Pausini. You ended up listening to both. Sometimes Natalie would sing too loudly just to make you laugh —she no longer spoke Italian as well as you, but she made a point of trying.

— One time, for her birthday, you prepared a dinner just for the two of you, using recipes her grandmother used to make before everything was lost. She cried when she saw the dishes on the table. You didn't say anything, just held her hand. And in that silence, she understood that no one had done that for her since... ever.

— You had a secret spot in a park near school, where you'd sit to escape the noise of the world. Natalie carved your names into a tree there, with a little knife she always carried in her backpack. Years later, you would return there—and it would still be there.

— When Natalie started having relapses, you were the one who came to her. She called, sometimes unable to speak properly. You understood the silence. You brought her hot coffee, a blanket, and let her cry without covering.

Journal Entry — Natalie Scatorccio

Date: Who cares?

Place: My room. Or whatever. Our planet is upside down.

I don't think I'll ever forget the first time I heard her speak.

It wasn't what she said. It was the sound. That cadence that made the words seem like music. The heavy accent of a land I no longer remembered knowing.

She came from Italy. Like me. Only... different. She was full. Full of memories, of customs, of her mother's voice speaking loudly in the kitchen.

And me?

I'm just what's left.

Some random American with a last name no one can pronounce.

Until she. Until she looked at me as if she could see.

I was an idiot the first day. I tried to talk to her, and my tongue slipped like wet soap. I walked away mid-sentence. It was like a scene from a romantic comedy, only without the funny part.

She thought it was cute. CUTE.

I almost wanted to fall down the stairs the next day just to see if she'd laugh again.

She took me back to a place I didn't even know I wanted to go back to.

She taught me Italian again like lighting a candle.

And I remembered.

Of words. Of gestures. Of myself.

She cuts fresh pasta like magic. Her little brother calls me Natale, and I let him.

Sometimes I feel like I'm already part of the family.

Sometimes I'm afraid I'm just another visitor.

But today…

Today I looked at her lying on the couch, tomato sauce on her chin, laughing at some stupid soap opera, and I thought:

This is it. This is her.

This is home.

If nona saw me now, I think she would say:

“Bene, finalmente, la ragazza capisce.” (“Well, finally, the girl understands”)

(I understand, grandma. It took a while, but I understood..)

taglist: @moesthoughts, @javizheart, @antlertruths, @driftstar, @travismartinezwif3

click here if u want to be added to the taglist!

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #x reader #yellowjackets x you #archivesctrccio #lesbian #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x you #natalie yj #natalie yellowjackets #˚. ˖ ♱jinxsfics #wlw fanfic #fanfic

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twistedleafs · 3 days ago

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Another AU I want to write eventually:

Sweetheart rookie Mack and 22 yr old captain Will. Mack comes in all shiny eyed, excited, hard working and ready to prove himself. He also comes in with a huge crush on Will, which only gets 10x worse once they actually meet.

EVERYONE on the team can see it. Except Will, at first. Mack follows him around like a lovesick puppy, hangs onto every word Will says, constantly stares, giggles at every dumb joke Will makes, and blushes every time Will compliments his hockey.

Will finally realizes after Toff points it out to him. Will doesn’t believe it at first. But then someone sneaks Mack a few beers at a team BBQ, and it gets even more obvious. Tipsy Mack is even MORE giggly, leaning into Will’s space, touching his arm while they talk, following him around all day.

Will is honestly flattered, but Mack is 18 and so new to the league. So when he drops Mack off at Jumbo’s place that night, he tries to let him down easy.

“Listen, Mack… some of the guys have mentioned that you maybe have a little… crush… on me.”

Mack is already flushed from drinking, but he somehow gets redder. “Oh.”

“It’s really sweet of you,” Will says softly. “And I think you’re amazing, Mack. But you just got here. It wouldn’t be acceptable for me to start dating someone so young and new to the league.”

Mack’s eyes widen. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Will relaxes, relieved that Mack is taking it so well.

“What about when I’m older?” Mack asks hopefully.

Will chuckles. “You probably won’t even like me anymore.”

Mack blushes again, and undoes his seatbelt. “Oh, I will.” He smiles sheepishly, opens the car door, and climbs out without another word.

Their friendship blossoms over the next year. Everyone jokingly calls Mack “Will’s rookie.”

Will and Toff spend Mack’s 19th birthday with him in Vancouver. Toff heads out first. When Will makes to leave, Mack grabs his hand.

“Wait!”

Will looks back at him with concern.

Mack continues to hold his hand. “I’m nineteen now.”

Will’s stomach drops, because he immediately knows what Mack is suggesting.

The thing is, Will does like Mack. Mack is beautiful, witty, amazing at hockey, and so fun to be around. They have amazing chemistry on and off the ice.

But Will will NOT be the creep that lurked around until Mack became an appropriate age to date. He won’t take advantage of his position as captain.

“Mack…” Will sighs.

How can they get past this? How will they get together? What if Will misses his chance?

I guess we’ll find out when I finally write this!

#willmack #hockey rpf #fanfiction

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kisapmta · 1 day ago

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the melancholic sunday of summer | c. sturniolo

masterlist

summary: change pulls confessions of love and doubt from the hearts of you and your best friend.

pairing: christopher sturniolo x fem!reader, bff!chris x bff!oc

warnings: fluff and angst. yearning</3, kissing<3, just avoidant attachments trying to be in love

notes: ik i'm basically 2 days late to their bday atp but i still wanted to share hehe

based off this request

word count: 4.3k

It was nearing midnight. A calm breeze shuffled between the oak's leaves, the moon reflected off each window's pane you passed. A silver hue cast over the sky and had your eyes captivated. The haze was so tranquil. So contrast against the constant life that moved in daylight. So comfortably beautiful.

Chris walked beside you, his hands tucked in his pockets. You had just spent the last day of July with him and his brothers.

Today was nothing out of the ordinary—just a long, lazy stretch of your teenage pastimes. Hours playing Fortnite, a quick vlog while walking through the woods behind their backyard, then more gaming when you got back home. It was the kind of day that felt like slipping into a favourite memory, familiar and comforting in all the right ways.

And now, Chris was walking you home. The five blocks from his house to yours stretched out beneath a sky that felt bigger and brighter than usual.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” you asked, voice decorated with a smile as you referred to his birthday.

“Just another day,” he shrugged.

You sighed at his lack of enthusiasm. “Yeah, but you’re turning twenty-two.”

Birthdays were bittersweet to you. They stood as a celebration of everything you have ever been and a reminder of everything you had yet to become. You always tried to be excited about them, and you wished he would be too.

“Twenty-two is so old,” he said with dread, so sincerely that you could tell he wasn’t even trying to make fun of your age.

But your voice shot up a pitch. “Old?” You asked, genuinely offended being one year older than him yourself. “Well what the fuck am I, then?”

“Fuckin’ old as fuck,” he replied without missing a beat, already laughing by himself.

A single scoff escaped you as you stopped in your tracks, your jaw hanging open in disbelief.

He kept walking for a couple of steps, then turned back to look at you, still laughing. “Alright, I’m sorry,” he said through his boxy smile.

“No fuck you, you’re so annoying.” Though your smile mirrored his and voided any meaning behind your words.

Chris took a step toward you, draping his arm over your shoulder to pull you back into step beside him. “I think it’s just like, unbelievable that I’m going to be twenty-two years old.”

Your arm found its place around his waist, and the two of you kept walking, comfortably linked.

“You are so dramatic,” you replied.

He chuckled, but continued. “I just hate how fast time feels like it’s going. I think about how literally like, 5 years ago, we just started the channel, and everything’s changed so much since then. It’s crazy.”

“Change is good, though,” you said, stating the obvious.

But you understood exactly how he felt. Even just the nostalgia of today, of this moment—it made your chest tighten. A gut wrenching ache always pulled at your tummy when you could see how fast time was slipping through your fingers. A bittersweet feeling of knowing things would never be the same again.

Three months ago, you started a new job in the field you’d spent years studying for. With a new 9-to-5 schedule, your hobbies and friendships and passions became limited to fit into whatever time was left at the end of the day.

Meanwhile, the boys continued to grow on YouTube, quickly closing in on eight million subscribers. Chris had also got his license. You learned to cook. Your dog turned nine, and so did Trevor. You moved into your own place.

It was still near your childhood home, just a couple blocks down the street. Because the small city of Somerville didn’t give you a choice to go very far in the first place.

And the boys had similar plans. Only they weren’t just thinking about moving across town. Their plans stretched across the country—to move all the way to LA.

Everything was changing.

“I guess,” he sighed. “But sometimes I just wish that like, I could be 19 forever.”

You didn’t say anything, just tightened your grip ever so slightly around his waist. A quiet gesture of acknowledgement and comfort, one he’d grown so used to over the years.

This. Change…It was one of those unspoken things that connected you and Chris in a way his brothers never quite understood.

Where Nick welcomed every day with open arms and Matt found solace in the idea of “yesterday’s problem,” Chris, for lack of better word, was simply a person who cried on his 20th birthday.

That milestone had felt like a funeral for his childhood. Like closing a door he wasn’t ready to shut. Like once he crossed that line, all the simple, carefree moments of being a kid were officially behind him.

And you felt it too—that ache for something you couldn’t hold on to. So when he blew out his candle that day, you hugged him just a little tighter, both of you caught in that bittersweet pull of time. Unrelenting and constant.

“And like,” he continued. “I know it’s important to grow and be uncomfortable…but it feels like I have to let go of all these things that I love to do that. Like I have to make space for all these new things and it’s overwhelming sometimes.”

“No I get that,” you said quietly. His feelings were far from foreign to you, having gone through the same conflicting thoughts when you turned 22 just a year before.

“But I think you’re really lucky, Chris. You have so many opportunities that twenty two year olds dream of, literally at the palm of your hands. You’ve achieved things people could never even imagine.”

You glanced at him, your words an act of encouragement, but he didn't reply.

“And I agree, it is super scary, but like… even through all the things you’ve accomplished, there’s still a lot of stuff that has stayed the same.”

He looked at you, his arm around your neck holding your gaze especially close.

“Like your family and Boston and your home will always be here. And I think the fact that you’re doing all of this with your brothers—you are so lucky, Chris. They’re never leaving you. You’re always gonna have them.”

He nodded, not doubting your reminder for a second. “I know, you’re right.”

You finally reached the front of your house, stopping beneath the lamp post that lit up your driveway.

“And I’m always here,” you added, softly.

You turned slowly, shifting to face him fully. Your arms wrapped around his waist, while both of his own crossed gently behind the nape of your neck.

“I know.”

His words hung in the air between your embrace. They changed the atmosphere instantly, holding the weight of three simple words he couldn’t bring himself to say out loud.

But you could hear it.

The three words.

Loud and clear in the way his chest rose and fell, so close to yours that each racing beat of his heart seemed to echo in your ears like it was trying to speak for him.

In the way his eyes transformed, normally soft and blue, now wide and dark with dilated pupils that swallowed all their colour.

It was in the flush of his skin and the quiet warmth rising in his cheeks, painted the unspoken color of everything he felt for you.

In that silence, his body told you everything.

But the words still wouldn’t come.

So he showed you instead.

His lips caught yours in a soft, warm exchange. Just for a second, testing the weight of the moment before pulling away. His breath was shaky and uneven, his forehead gently pressed against your own. His arms unraveled from where they rested on your shoulders as his hands found their place—one cupping your cheek, the other settling at the side of your neck.

You leaned into his touch.

Your heart raced in your chest.

There had been so many almosts before this. So many times this moment had hovered between you two, so close you could taste it, only for him to pull back. He always stopped himself, always afraid to cross that invisible line. Afraid to ruin something sacred, this friendship you both cherished so deeply. Afraid of change.

And now that it was finally real, the weight of it all pressed heavily against you, making you both hesitant to believe it.

Your gaze flickered down to his lips, as if to double check they were really just on yours a second before. When you looked back up into his eyes, everything shifted.

Whatever thread of restraint he’d knotted himself into all these years finally snapped. His lips captured yours again, firmer this time, with a quiet need that you met with no doubts. His fingers tightened in your hair as his other hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer. So close that every breath and heartbeat both of you took merged together, sustaining you as one.

The heat of the kiss was deep and all consuming, building with every pass of his lips against yours. You could hear fervour in the breathless sounds he let slip. Quiet, desperate exhales through his nose, though, you were no better. Your own sighs escaped without permission, especially when his tongue pressed through the seam of your mouth.

Each of your movements were heavy with meaning. Both of you desperately trying to convey everything you felt for one another, pouring it into the space between you in a way words never could.

For you, the kiss was a promise.

You needed him to feel it, needed it to echo the words you shared just minutes before—I am always here. You promised this, with each measured step of your lips. It was a vow of unshakable reassurance telling him to let go. To trust you.

And for Chris, it was something else entirely.

I love you.

Whispered in the way his lips lingered on yours just a second longer than they should have, savouring the taste of something he’d been longing for ever since his heart had found home in yours. For as long as he could remember.

When his mouth slowed, his forehead pressed lightly to yours, and the warmth of his breath ghosted over your skin.

The rustling of the leaves was the only thing heard for a moment as his thumb lingered along your jaw, tracing it slowly. He was memorizing you. Memorizing the dream he yearned for the most, finally tangible in his fingertips, so fragile and delicate and new that he wasn’t sure how to hold it.

“I’ve wanted to do this forever,” Chris finally admitted, breaking the silence. But he didn’t glance at you, timid under the weight of the situation, not keen to look at your expression and see how you felt just yet. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for years.”

The confession made you laugh lightly. Not to make fun of him, but because of how true it was. How obvious.

You thought back on every time Chris lingered when you said goodbye. How he’d pause at the doorway, or take a slow step back when the night should’ve ended. How, when his brothers were already long gone and waiting for him in the car, he'd drag out conversations about nothing just to keep you standing beside him for a few more seconds.

You thought back on every time he found a reason to sit closer on the couch. The way he always took the seat next to you, even when there were plenty of others open. Sometimes in the darkness of the living room, while everyone else was focused on the movie, you could feel him watching you instead. And you never looked over, never said anything or acknowledged his gaze. But you were always grateful for the dark that hid the warmth that bloomed on your cheeks every time.

You thought back on every time his brothers teased the two of you about this. How Matt would glance at Chris when his tone would shift mid-conversation, a little more measured when he spoke to you. Or how Nick would smirk behind his drink when Chris let you finish your point uninterrupted, something he rarely did for anyone else.

They were small changes. Barely noticeable, really. But they picked up on it in the way brothers do. In the way Chris listened more, and reacted less. In the way he was calmer. More vulnerable. More himself, somehow. Like being around you stripped away the part of him that felt like he had to perform.

Maybe that’s what stood out most. How he never felt the need to prove anything when he was with you. There was an ease that settled over him in your presence, a steadiness that could only come from knowing someone so well, being around them felt like breathing.

And Chris knew you.

He knew the way people’s words affected you in every interaction you held. How your mood could shift in an instant, lifted or weighed down by another person’s energy that sank into your empathetic heart.

He knew when you felt confident and when your insecurities would creep in. Though in his eyes, with your heart and your character and the pure sublimity of your being, there was never any reason for you to doubt yourself.

And he knew—no, he could feel your sadness, your anger, and your fears like they were his own. Yet somehow, he always knew how to steady you. Since the day you met at 6 and 7 years old, Chris had been there for you in moments when no one else was.

Every time you were overwhelmed, he always knew what to say to make you feel better.

Every time you shut down without meaning to and retreated into yourself the way you sometimes did, he never pushed. He’d just wait nearby, close enough for you to know you weren’t alone, but far enough to give you space until you were ready to come back.

Every time you cried in his arms. Every time he celebrated your accomplishments. Every time he supported you over the years, consistently, despite how many things in your lives had changed, and then changed again.

You thought back on every time he had ever said ‘I care about you.’ It never sounded like much, but you always knew what he meant…knew that in its own way, it was a confession of his own.

“I know,” you finally said. “I think I’ve known for a long time.”

And although the tone of your voice leaned on the side of warmth, and the tenderness of your feelings peeked through the veil of caution you were both trying to hide behind, Chris sighed.

“I wish it didn’t take me this long to tell you,” he confessed quietly. His features fell, and the expression he wore was laced with something you could only pinpoint as guilt...or maybe regret. “I’ve thought about it so many times. About what it would be like if I just… said something. What we could’ve been all this time, if I didn’t wait until now.”

He still wasn’t looking at you, but you could feel the weight of what he was carrying. All those years of almosts and unspoken things. Of brushing up against a line and never daring to cross it. Of suppressing your love and making your feelings small, pushing them down, down, down. Down far enough that maybe they would eventually fade away.

Only they never did.

And now, finally, all of it was surfacing. Laid bare between you. No longer something either of you could pretend wasn’t there.

“I just feel like I wasted so much time being scared,” he added. Then like he was promising you that he wasn’t lying, he brought himself to meet your gaze and repeated, “I wanted to tell you so badly.”

You reached up and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, gently brushing your thumb over his skin where he still held your cheek. Another quiet gesture of acknowledgement and comfort, one he’d grown so used to over the years.

It was a reminder that even with everything that had just shifted between you two, you were still you. Still soft. Still sweet. Softer than the hand you rested over his, and sweeter than the way you coaxed his own into gentleness; not just with you, but with himself. You looked at him the way you always had—softly, sweetly—as if to remind him: this part of you hadn’t changed.

“It’s okay,” you started to tell him. You squeezed gently at his wrist in reassurance. “I want to know what you’re trying to say. So take your time... I’ll wait for you.”

That patience, that tender compassion that Chris had always loved so much about you, that response made his eyes water, and he had to look away. His gaze dropped to somewhere on the ground between you, the edges of your shoes blurring into the concrete as tears muddled his vision. Then he tried again.

“I always wanted to try with you. To just be with you. But it took me a long time to realize wanting something isn’t enough. Things don’t just work out because I hope they will. If I want something… It takes effort to make it happen. I have to work for it and try my best to put things where they belong...”

Remorse ran through his veins and he shook his head at how spineless he was– unable to trust you enough, despite how much you always reassured him that he could. It was shameful to remember.

At the mention of it, you couldn’t help but think about all the time you two did waste. About how unfortunate it was for you two to finally come to this realization with only one month left before the triplets moved across the country.

But you wouldn’t let Chris think this was entirely his fault. You knew you were also partly to blame.

A heavy exhale left your body. “I’m scared too,” you revealed.

And all this time, while he’d been so consumed by his own guilt, he never stopped to think that maybe you’d been just as scared as him. Your confession tugged at his heart—the idea that, despite how much he always wanted to help you from ever feeling afraid, there was a possibility that something in your relationship, or maybe even something in him, caused you to feel scared anyway.

Hesitant to hear you answer, his voice was soft when he asked, “Can you tell me what you’re scared of?”

Silence settled between you. It didn’t feel heavy, but rather like it was giving you room to breathe. To think about how vulnerable you were willing to be. You weren’t even sure what you were going to say until you spoke again.

“There are so many things, Chris.”

The admission instantly brought pesky pinpricks of tears to sting the backs of your eyes, and made Chris’s features flicker with confusion. He shook his head softly. As if asking you to elaborate. As if trying to understand you better.

With a deep breath, you started, “I know it’s maybe not fair of me.”

There was a slight selfishness in your fears that you felt like you had to acknowledge before you even began to explain them—to give your feelings credibility, in a way. To make them valid, at least to yourself, even if you knew they were maybe dramatic and irrational.

“But like…well, we both have our own dreams, right? And we’ve worked so hard to push ourselves to achieve these goals, especially over the past few years. And I can see everything slowly starting to pay off. How things are starting to fall into place—but that’s what scares me.”

He nodded attentively, but you could tell that he didn’t fully understand. You paused to think, wanting to piece together the right words and come up with a decent explanation for your inexplicable worries.

“It’s not that I don’t want these things to work out. I do want us to grow, and change, and become who we’re meant to be... I do. I want all of that for you. And for me too. But I get scared thinking about how…while we’re pursuing these things that we want to do and while we’re building the lives that we want to live and fulfilling our goals, what if we become people that don’t fit together anymore–”

He couldn’t stop himself from quieting you when he heard the way your voice broke.

“___,” he said gently.

He brushed his thumb over your cheek.

You kept talking like you didn’t hear him.

“What if we’re reaching for things that are taking us in opposite directions? And that we’re growing apart?” You looked up at him with glassy eyes, and each word was heavier than the last as you told him, “I’m sad that you’re moving.”

The edges of his composure cracked then. Enough to let you see that the sadness you were feeling wasn’t yours alone. His eyes rimmed red with tears and his thumb stopped at your jaw. His lips parted as he was about to respond, but you beat him to it. Your voice was barely there now.

“I know going to LA is gonna be so good for you guys. There are opportunities out there that staying here could never give you… I know this is what you’ve always wanted and I’m so proud of you for going. I really am— I just…” You exhaled shakily, and your chest tightened.

“I don’t want to be without you.”

Whatever you were going to say next didn’t come.

You slipped your hand from his wrist and bunched the sleeve of your hoodie around your fist, then attempted to dry your eyes. Only your tears didn’t stop.

So your other hand at his waist came up to cover your quivering chin and quiet your soft cries. You buried your face in your palms as your shoulders trembled.

“Hey,” Chris said softly. “Come here.”

He reached out and pulled you to his chest. Your hands were still covering your face, so his arms circled around you as a whole and he rested his chin on your head and let you cry, his own eyes stinging.

It was a minute or two that you wept against his chest before either of you spoke again.

He started first, “I don’t want to lose you either.”

The words made it harder to hold back your tears, but did your best to gather your composure and give Chris your attention again.

He wiped away the wet marks on your cheeks as he continued, “Like you said, we’re both scared. Because we have no fucking clue how this is gonna go. Distance isn’t gonna make things easy. And we’re probably gonna go through stuff apart that’ll change the way we go about situations– teach us how to go about our lives without being there for each other the way that we’re used to.”

He gave you a small, sad smile that was too kind for the harsh reality of his words.

“I’ve thought about these things,” he added, “‘more than I wanna admit. And it’s scary because maybe we won’t figure it out right. Maybe we’ll mess it up, or we’ll hurt each other. Maybe we’ll grow into people who want different things. Maybe we’ll find out that we weren’t meant for long distance, or that we weren’t meant to be more than just friends.”

You flinched. Visibly recoiled as if his words were enough to cause pain.

Up until this point, you’d blamed your avoidance on your selfishness. On being dramatic and irrational about things that could go wrong. So as comforting as it was to know Chris shared the same worries as you, you almost wished he didn’t. Because if the both of you felt this way, it meant that these things you were afraid of weren’t imagined or exaggerated. They weren’t just passing thoughts, but actual possibilities…

But then you considered perhaps that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe the fact that you’d both thought about what could go wrong meant you’d be more careful with each other. That you wouldn’t take this lightly or pretend it would easy. That naming the hard parts now might keep you from slipping into them by accident later.

“I don’t know anything for sure,” Chris amended, his voice gentler now. “Except that I want to try. I want to try for you, __.”

Tears gleamed in his eyes, shiny under the lamp post light that covered you two.

“And if you’ll let me, I want to try with you. Because if we don’t even try— I think I’ll spend forever wishing that we did.”

His words were perfect. And still, you hesitated to respond.

It crossed your mind that maybe you were too willing to push things aside, that you were too keen to move into it all. That you weren’t giving yourself enough time to consider all the things you hadn’t touched on yet. Enough time to process what you just did.

But you didn’t want to waste even more waiting for everything to be figured out. You didn’t want to slow down the process of moving forward by getting stuck trying to map out every twist before it happened. Not with just a month left. Not when you’d finally made it this close to each other.

So with a cautious heart you whispered the only thing you could.

“Are you sure?”

And just as he had all your life, Chris knew exactly what to say. Only this time, he reassured you with three new words.

“I love you, __.”

Minutes passed, and the first of August came. That was last of their birthdays you'd spend together in Boston. The final month you would live together in the same city.

It was the start of the end.

Or maybe just the start of forever.

You didn’t know how things were going to change from here. You only knew that they would.

Your routines would shift. You would feel different without him near. You’d both move forward, maybe not always side by side, but still trying. Still choosing.

There were no guarantees. No promises beyond the ones you hadn’t needed to say out loud.

But this felt right.

Because even if everything else was changing, it felt like this part of you two— this care, this love— was always going to find its way back.

—

a/n: thank you for reading<3 i love you guys<3

#❥⁞ kisapmta #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo

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nikethestatue · 18 hours ago

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Just briefly going off something that @psychologynerd pointed out and that is not at all any kind of revolutionary observation, but something to remember.

SJM is notorious for writing highly flirtatious male/female friendships.

And I don't mean 'haha, they are just messing around!' but more like 'will they or won't they' flirtatious.

Aelin and Fenrys--so much so, some think they'd make a better couple than Rowaelin.

Feyre: so much so, some people couldn't tell who was going to end game (and I am not talking about Feylin vs Feysand), I am talking Feyre x Lucien or Feyre x Tamlin?

Feyre and Tarquin.

Feyre and Cassian. So much so, there was talk of threesomes and orgies.

Feyre and Helion.

On to Nesta:

Nesta and Azriel. So much so, SJM wrote a threesome for the 3 of them!

Nesta openly lusts after Azriel (I mean, who doesn't?)

Nesta and Helion.

Nesta and Eris.

Nesta and Lanthys.

On to Bryce:

Bryce and Tharion.

Bryce and Ithan.

Bryce and Azriel!! (Don't you know they are true mates?!?!?!)

And while there is barely any 'flirtation' between Azriel and Gwyn, I am almost not even surprised that their interactions were misinterpreted as being flirty. It doesn't surprise me that those who don't want him to be with Elain in the first place, would look at him and Gwyn and would quickly find a way to start insisting that this is 'real'. I mean, look at Bryceriels! They fell for it immediately.

However, we come back to the same issue--it's extremely important to watch for patterns in SJM's writing and be familiar with her entire library, instead of isolating yourself and reading only one book, let alone one bonus chapter.

She has done this literally with everyone. But at the end of the day, it's just friendships. Sometimes, the closest friendships that these characters develop (look at Feyre and Cassian or at Aelin and Fen), but the real romances are still pretty obvious.

I am sure when the time comes, Elain will have all sorts of sexy gents vying for her attention. I mean, Eris already acknowledged her beauty and that man is always after a wife!

But endgames are endgames.

#elriel #pro elriel #SJM writing #SJM books #SJM couples

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flyingwargle · 2 days ago

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july fanfic recs!

some of these fics are rated e!

sakuatsu

Love Me Like This t. 5.1k. atsumu discovers sakusa is secretly a kpop stan, and atsumu is somehow roped into becoming one, as well. just pure fun and humor.

you don't need no me time (that's you and me time) e. 5.2k. modern au during the pandemic where sakusa is busy working and atsumu is deprived of relief that he jerks off in the bathroom, not knowing sakusa is watching. good smut.

come into the water e. 9.2k. friends with benefits to lovers pipeline with smut. skts just has top tier fwb to lovers fics, and i'm making it my mission to read them all.

warning lights g. 10.4k. atsumu and sakusa don't talk irl because they're busy being shits to each other on social media. there's so much pettiness and flirting, it's hilarious how sakusa naturally comes to the conclusion they're dating after one (1) tweet.

plate tectonics t. 14.6k. in which atsumu falling in love with sakusa is akin to plate tectonics converging. i'm always a sucker for relationships being equated to something i never thought of before because it always leads to something poetic, and this fic didn't disappoint.

iwaoi

sweet sun, send me the moon e. 7.6k. in which kissing as friends turns into something more. you'll have to pry this trope out of my hands, i love the innocence of "let's practice kissing together!" to "oh no...we're actually soulmates."

conquer the world e. 8.9k. focuses on iwa's first time with oikawa, who waited until he was ready to sleep with his boyfriend. very somft, very intimate.

put the bridges back together t. 70k. 14/14. i've had this saved ever since i saw it on twt like...2 years ago 😂 iwa and oikawa reconnect after accidentally drifting post-high school. lovely prose and such a beautiful depiction of not only their friendship but relationship.

bokuaka

pink roses for the couple at the back t. 4.8k. bokuaka getting together in kuroo's pov. akaashi is such a little shit in this, it's so funny to read. he really is just a gremlin.

Your Love is Like The Thunder e. 6.6k. trans akaashi never had a first time and bokuto offers to himself. very sweet and lovely, good for the soul.

caveat emptor t. 7.1k. bokuto is asked to model for an owl onesie and akaashi says he'll buy it. until bokuto shows up at his doorstep to deliver it while dressed in said onesie. sooo cute and hilarious!

kuroken

out of sync t. 5.7k. maaaaan this fic reminds me why i love hurt/comfort so much. kenma closes himself off and falls into an abyss of depression but kuroo is there to pick him up.

In Another Castle e. 19k. kenma and kuroo decide to move in together and it's all good fun until woah, hey, how come my heart starts doing things whenever we're next to each other...? eventual friends to lovers with domestic bliss <3

Miles t. 32.7k. 13/13. kenma follows kuroo around the world while he recruits players for the all-stars special volleyball match. the problem is kuroo is in love with him, and kenma doesn't reciprocate his feelings. IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING DON'T WORRY! it also shows a different side of the kuroken friendship i haven't seen much, which makes a lot of sense, once you think about it.

tsukkiyama

never empty-handed when i'm holding your hand t. 9.1k. tsukkiyama. as an adult, fics about adulting being hard just hit differently. yamaguchi is surrounded by high achieving people and he's left wondering what exactly is he doing with his life? very poignant with a fluffy ending.

flowers that bloom late (are still just as pretty) t. 10.3k. 3/3. tsukishima sees yamaguchi beneath the gym lights and realizes he likes him. ah, feelings realization, how i love you so, just as much as tsukishima loves yamaguchi <3

campfire in your chest m. 74.4k. 18/18. tsukkiyama. one of tsukkiyama's holy texts, according to online sources, and yeah, i can see why. we love tsukishima pining in this house and eventual getting together. these two are undeniably cute, and this fic portrays them so, so well.

other

Far Flung Heights g. 4.1k. tsukishima-centric. just tsukki getting recruited for the olympics and all the different reactions everyone has about the news. never in my life did i think i would be proud of this salty dinosaur, but this fic made me feel like a proud parent.

Self-Preservation t. 4.9k. karasuno5. yachi's girlfriend breaks up with her and makes it hinata, kageyama, tsukishima, and yamaguchi's problem. very funny and so wholesome.

catnip t. 8.2k. kagehina. the duo adopts a cat and said cat cockblocks hinata. very funny and cute!

while i nodded, nearly napping (suddenly there came a tapping) t. 10.7k. ushiten. reon cannot sleep because of the summer heat but also because ushijima keeps showing up at his dorm room at 4 am. in other words: he likes tendou and makes it everyone's problem. very funny and fluffy!

december boys t. 19.3k. 2/2. kageyama and kakeru (from run with the wind!) centric (with eventual kagehina). i love the idea of these two being cousins, and how they're able to connect with their respective sports. very cute, very precious, love crossovers like these.

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tagged-by-trauma · 15 hours ago

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After everything

After a shared past that turned out bad, you meet again decades later and finally realize what you both want. Pairing: Pedro Pascal x plus size!reader Warnings: friends to lovers, hurt comfort, language, mentions of bullying, Pedro fucking up in high school, guilt, tears, slight argument, happy ending, np proofreading Word count: 2.3k A/N: Thank you to the lovely @being-worthy for sending me this idea! And I'm just hoping things will turn on the brighter side for you!

The high school was loud with the chatter of other students, some discussing the nearby exams others talking out the teachers they hated. The halls were full of the ones who were new here, still trying to find their way and coordinate in the building, even though it was the end of the year already, the bullies looking at them with their piercing eyes.

You were there once. Completely new, the hallways unfamiliar, too much classroom, and definitely too much bully. Not the best stand-up for someone like you.

You were never that typically beautiful girl with a body that could look like a model. Your curves were more prominent, you didn’t have a flat stomach and your cheeks were fuller. You only used makeup to hide the imperfections on your face, the cheap products doing a poor job. Maybe that’s why they started bullying you one day. Because you were too out of the crowd. Too new.

Too big for the bullies to notice.

It started with words. Mostly about your looks or the fact that you were new. But these words soon turned harsher, spitting venom about your family and different threats. Luckily, none of these verbal actions turned into physical ones thanks to a saviour.

Well, he wasn’t a saviour, but you called him that way anyway.

He was just a normal boy, one year older than you. He happened to walk by when the words were yelled at your way and he stepped in, shielding you, giving some not so beautiful words for the famous boys and too spoiled girls. They walked away without giving you another look, their faces turned to the ground, hands in their pockets. He introduced himself not long after.

Pedro.

Well, he actually introduced himself as Peter, but when you started to hang out with him more and more, he told you his actual and full name, and the reason why he just says Peter to everyone who meets him for the first time. You talked about hobbies, interests, and he told you how he liked drama, films, and his dream was becoming a worldwide famous actor one day.

The years turned into friendship, but you felt more.

You started falling for him.

And you weren’t sure you could land without hurting yourself.

And when he invited you to the prom you didn’t hesitate to say yes, even though you were a year younger. You immediately started panicking, trying to look for a dress that would look good on you, trying on different makeups that would make your face slimmer or more beautiful. In the end, you settled for a dark blue velvet dress and a more natural look for your face. And during the preparations, you decided that you would tell him your feelings.

And soon the evening of prom came.

You were just getting ready, looking at yourself, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear when the knock came on your door. You picked up your purse before opening the door and glancing at him.

He was wearing a simple black suit, his dark hair combed back, and you caught the way his eyes travelled down your body before it met again with yours.

“You,” he stopped for a second. “You look really beautiful.”

You blushed at his compliment, your eyes flicking to the ground.

“You don’t look bad yourself either,” your voice was barely above a whisper, and you watched as he lifted his hand to the back of his neck nervously. He thanked you and held out his arm which you took and started walking to the school.

But you couldn’t prepare yourself for the turn the night would take.

Everything was going alright, you were dancing with him to almost every song, his dance moves surprising you, and when you needed a break you both went to the drink stand with sweat clinging to your bodies. Way into the night you excused yourself, the need to use the bathroom growing stronger with every passing minute.

Even though the prom was the biggest one in the history of the school, there was no one in the bathroom and you couldn’t be more grateful for that. You looked in the mirror, pulling your makeup from the purse to fix it, your hair falling over your eyes. You wanted to tell him your feelings, but you were too afraid. Too afraid of rejection, too afraid that he would laugh at you. But he wasn’t that type of guy, he wouldn’t do that to you.

With newly found energy, you left the room minutes later, the song getting louder and louder as you walked closer to the big hall. You bumped into some students who escaped the dance floor to talk to each other, and you apologized every single time when you saw their eyes piercing a hole in your skin.

You walked into the big hall, the music blasting from the speakers, your eyes glancing around to find Pedro in the crowd of students. But the cheerful expression fell from your face when you spotted him on the dance floor with a girl grinding on him, his suit jacket forgotten somewhere. And the most painful wasn’t this. He was kissing her. Hungry, desperate, his hands pulling her closer with every move.

The time seemed to freeze in that moment; the music fading and being replaced by the loud ringing of your ear. All thoughts flew out of your mind, only the image of him with her remaining. You felt the hot tears in your eyes, your vision blurring with every passing second.

You remembered the times he comforted you after a bad day, pulled you into the same arms that he was holding her. The times he calmed you down after a bad argument with your family, the shared cuddles on the couch, the hugs, the memories coming back to you suddenly.

You knew that you shouldn’t feel this way, not like you were together or anything. But you still felt betrayed, and you dismissed the idea of telling him your feelings.

For once in your life, you felt like you were enough for someone. You brough out the best of you, putting on the most beautiful dress you could find, but you felt like an idiot for trying to be someone that you’re clearly not.

In that moment the girl pulled back and leaned into his neck and he just smirked before his eyes scanned the hall and they fell on your body. His smile immediately faltered, and the dark brown orbs showed guilt and remorse. He quickly pushed away the girl and started walking towards you, but you just shook your head and left the hall as fast as you could.

Your steps were fast, the uncomfortable heels clicking loudly on the ground as you dodged the curious students, but you didn’t care. You heard his voice behind you as he called out, but you didn’t stop, instead you picked up your pace, your sobs and tears finally breaking out of you.

“Please, it wasn’t what it looked like,” his voice was desperate, and you finally came to a halt, the beat of your heart too quick and your breathing too heavy. You turned around, his form blurry a few feet away from you.

“You don’t have to explain anything, Pedro. It’s not like we’re together or anything,” you tried to calm yourself down, you voice sounding unfamiliar to your own ears. “You do want you want with whoever you want.”

“But you want to.”

“What?”

“You want to be together, right?” his question and the mention of a relationship with him pierced painfully through your heart, and you shook your head dismissively, pursing your lips.

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” you murmured unsurely, and you saw how he stepped toward you even more, but you stopped him with one look. “Just… I need some time right now, please.”

He nodded slowly, his own eyes shining with tears too in the glow of the streetlamp. You turned away from him and started to walk away when his voice hit you and your whole body stiffened.

“Did I ruin our friendship?”

Your friendship. The friendship that you built with him since the very first day you met. The friendship that turned your world upside down. The friendship that turned to love on your side.

“No. I think I did,” you whispered loud enough so he could hear, and without waiting for his answer you continued to walk, never looking back at him. He was in disbelief behind you, trying to go after you, trying to explain that it wasn’t your fault, but he changed his mind and stared at the spot where you stood just minutes ago.

That was the moment he knew. The moment he realized what he really felt.

And the moment he really fucked up.

—-—

Months went by without talking. He eventually graduated; you stayed back for the last year. After high school you started studying law trying to block out that night you last saw him. Of course, you were walking with open eyes, curious about his career as an actor, but you never looked out for him.

And neither did he.

—-—

You watched the screen of the TV as he strode over in it, the mustard-colored cloak swishing behind him. Oberyn Martell. Game of Thrones. His first more serious role in his career.

You were proud of him, happy that he reached his goal, and you were hoping this was only the beginning. You really did, the memory of him living rent free in your mind, the glint of his eyes as he told you about his dream while holding you.

—-—

The corner café was almost empty at this time in the morning as you stepped inside. Just a few people were standing in a line in front of the counter, waiting for their usual morning coffee impatiently. You quickly stood behind the last person, your phone in hand, looking through your emails.

The que moved fast and within ten minutes you were standing in front of the barista who brought you your usual, too familiar with you and your order at this point. She placed the little cup before you, but a voice distracted you.

“The lady’s order is on me,” his voice was low and gravelly, too familiar. You turned around immediately to protest, but the words stuck in your throat as the same dark brown eyes stared into yours that looked at you guiltily that night. More exhausted, older, but the same glint was there.

“Pedro,” your voice came out as a whisper, the disbelief prominent in our tone.

“Hey,” he smiled at you, his lips slightly pursed.

“What—” you were cut off as he stepped beside you and picked up the cup after he put down a few bills. You just looked at him like he was a ghost and walked with him to one of the tables like it was natural, like you did it every day. Before you could pull out your chair, he did it, and you returned his smile as you sat down.

“It’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah, it’s been quite some time,” you said, your voice quite in the even quieter place. “Decades.”

“Well… I wanted to look for you. Years after I left high school, I tried to reach out for you, but I was too afraid to do so. I just felt like I didn’t deserve it.”

“Why?”

“Because I fucked up that night. Like really fucked up and—” before he could finish, you cut him off.

“You don’t have to explain anything, Pedro. I told you that night too and I’m also telling you now. At least, you enjoyed yourself, that’s the important part,” your voice sounded sad, but you quickly composed yourself, taking a sip from the hot beverage.

“I didn’t.”

You raised your eyebrows at his short answer, the look in his eyes apologetic, the smile falling from his lips as he took on a more serious expression.

“I didn’t enjoy it, not when I saw how it made you feel,” he hesitated before he continued. “I was young, dumb, and confused. I did what I did because I thought I could forget you like that, but I didn’t. Instead, you haunted me with the hurt look in your eyes.”

“Pedro,” you tried to warn him, but he didn’t pay attention to it.

“I realized in that moment that you also had feelings, but I was a coward to not tell you back then. So, I’m telling you now. I’m not expecting you to forgive me or have the same feelings for me, but…”

“Yeah, it hurt me seeing you with someone else, but I think I never stopped loving you. I couldn’t stop. I just needed some time to think,” you smiled at him softly, and he looked at you with those puppy dog eyes that he did back in the comfort of the school library. “And when I saw that you achieved your dreams, I was too scared to reach out too. Too afraid that I would just be a burden for you after everything.”

“You could never be a burden to me, you hear me? Never,” he said with confidence, his hand finding yours on the table, enveloping it in his much bigger ones. “So, this means we could try?”

He was hopeful, and you were too. Maybe something in your life would turn out good.

“Yes, but just small steps at first, alright?”

He nodded, the boyish grin returning to his face, and he squeezed your hands. You didn’t really hear what he said after that, but it sounded like a thank you coming from his mouth.

And it felt like a new beginning for both of you.

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